#no matter what other thing I’m into nothing gives me more peace then drawing Jason

[llmsos]

Feeling ass so the only solution is to draw Jason

[lovecinnatwist]

So I know you wrote a star sapphire Dick au, but I raise you a star sapphire Jason au—he always seems to love everyone around him a lot more than they seem to love him and he just wants to be loved so badly poor baby

Hello Anon! I loveeee this idea! You didnt specify a pairing so I've made it gen. Let me know if you have a pairing in mind. I've left it open for ideas.

All are welcome to slide into my DMs with ideas for star sapphire!Jason.

Lanterns Lead Home

The first moment of consciousness Jason Todd has after being beaten to- not death apparently- is warmth. 

The fuzzy feeling of being held by what must be twenty different pairs of hands pulls him back as he wakes. Every broken sob and desperate scream that wants to rattle free of his chest melts away into nothing. The air itself seems to vibrate with something sweet that he can’t put a name too. Every draw of breath fills him with kindness until he can recall the feeling-

love.

Tender touches chase away the bruises and scars until he can’t remember if they were ever there. Soft and caring caresses cup his cheeks and soft lips kiss away his tears. It’s too much and something that he’s been without for so long. For a moment he thinks of Catherine. Who she had been before the drugs. The thought of her breaks something in his chest. He cries and what seems like dozens of voices echo out validations. They sing back welcoming calls to release and let go.

So Jason does but he’s still floating. Still in the warm embrace of what he realizes must be his sisters. They must be because they call him that over and over and over again. A cup of something sugary comes to his lips and he gulps it down greedily. It coats his insides sweeping through him like a scolding saccharine syrup.

Consciousness starts to slip again but insistent slaps to the face jolt him awake. 

‘ Not yet. ‘

He knows what the words are but his ears don’t actually hear them. The woman over him has blue skin and gorgeous eyes that see into everything he is. He wants to turn away from it but she holds him steady. There is another cup. She makes him drink and this time Jason feels like he’s suffocating. 

He swallows more cups until he feels like he's at his limit. Then the hands are moving him and the rocking motion makes him feel sick. He passes from one hand to another until someone is bringing him to his knees in front of a huge glittering basin. 

“ Purge Ja’s Purge and be reborn. “

He feels dizzy and sick. Like he’s still rocking. He clenches onto the cool surface ahead of him. He tries to collect himself but memories start surfacing like bile in his throat. He remembers everything in startling detail. It all flashes before him until he flies forward and purges. 

He shakes and shudders through it. The loud cheers after every heave grounds him in support. Many hands hold him to stop him from falling in but no one stops him from emptying everything that he is into the quickling filling basin. 

He trembles and they replace that one for another. He can’t believe there’s more to give but everytime he feels peace a vile memory twists up and sends him face first into the bucket. By the time he’s thoroughly wrung out and empty- gentle hands pull him up. He doesn’t fight as he’s taken by many hands to a cool pool that bubbles against his skin. It fizzes and sizzles but doesn’t burn as his body is submerged. His eye lashes flutter. 

He gets a vague glimpse of blue skin and pinks and then someone tells him to hold his breath. 

He does and goes under. Everything goes black. 

Most Pink Lanterns don’t need to go through the rebirth. At least that is what Ja’s has heard from the others. The ring finds them before anything bad can happen. Usually during high emotions of love or joy something Ja’s has felt little of. Or well maybe that isn’t quite right. 

He does love, he loves everything. He loves hard, fast, passionate and ferociously but sometimes it feels like there isn’t any left for him. Sure he’s had people care for him, but to choose him first? To love him first…. Wilis loved money, then Catherine loved the drugs, then there's Bruce who loved the Crusade and Alfred… well Alfred could never love him more than Bruce. 

It had been that that drove him to Ethiopia in the first place.

He remembers everything in startling clarity now. His birth, his life, his death and of course both rebirths. It’s hard to forget the feeling of splitters digging into your fingertips and the taste of mud as you dig yourself out of your own grave. Who knows how long he had been wandering Gotham in a fuzzy haze? No one found him, no one had been looking for him. At least that's what he thought until he saw a pink glow.

The star sapphire. His star sapphire to be precise. 

Lost in the memory he gently touches the gem. It’s a wonderment, meeting the sisters of the lanterns corps and of course… getting permission to be- well who he's always known himself to be, Ja’s as they call him.

It had been freeing to be allowed to be nurturing. To be allowed to be tender and to care. Despite the changes that he’s gone through he feels more like himself than ever before. Like his body suddenly fits and he is grateful for the Zamarons for allowing him the ceremony. They honor his pronouns, as they all honor and celebrate femininity as its essence and not as sex or gender. Ja's has learned nothing if not the suffering of smothering his divine feminine in his last life. 

Now he is free.

( He tells himself that's why he hasn’t gone home to Gotham. Not because the existence of the third Robin Bruce has replaced him with. )

He does a good job at ignoring his old life and memories for the most part too. The few indulges he allows are watching digital transmissions of different versions of pride and prejudice with his sisters. Even in space nothing seems to beat human literature, something that Ja's gets to share with the others. He learns how to love deeper. Not only himself but more importantly everyone and everything. Mostly in the emotional sense… while the others- well Ja's isn’t quite ready for the sexual sense yet. 

Like many of the Pink Lantern Corps he has yet to meet his soul mate. 

The thought flutters low in his stomach. While he could easily show someone their love in his ring, the power didn’t work for star sapphires themselves. They simply had to wait for the pull and circumstance when they would feel the electricity in the air. Other members in the corps said that the feeling is indescribable. Like swallowing lightning or crashing into a planet with nothing to cushion the fall.

Though unfortunately, most of his sisters felt that with every good looking creature they came across. 

Ja's takes a drink, lounging about in the Green Lanterns station. They’re taking a short interlude before heading back home. One that the others are taking full advantage of.  It’s kind of embarrassing how the revealing costume and reputation of his corps makes others stare. He hears the whispers and feels the eyes on him just as clearly. 

It’s stupid because he isn’t even the best looking of them all. In a universe full of aliens most lanterns find humans rather dull. He hears the giggles as the others flirt. That’s all it is sometimes, flirting. While other times- Ja's turns the blind eye to Nadia’s wink as she disappears with a lantern down the corridor. He doesn’t flush long familiar with their games. Still a little part of him feels empty.

If only he could give as freely as they did. 

The chair next to him creeks making him sigh. Great, another lantern trying their luck. Couldn’t they tell he just wants to finish his drink in peace? He turns around to give the person a piece of his mind, anger already hot on his tongue. 

That is until playful green eyes fall on his. Ja's immediately tries to escape but Ryner grabs his wrist.

“ Well if it isn’t my favourite Star Sapphire. “

Ja's knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to pull the other off without causing a scene. He gives one more futile tug while Kyle just raises an unimpressed eyebrow. He groans just as the lantern orders himself his own drink. 

“ What do you want Ryner? “

The green lantern only lets go when he’s sure Ja's won’t run. Which is funny considering the fact that he's always running. Whether it be from bad guys, suitors or most times his sisters. It’s something that comes from growing up on the streets. The only place he’s ever felt safe had been… warm memories of the manor and Bruce's smile tug at his heart.

“ What makes you think I want something Ja’s? “

The very clear inflection of his voice Ja's wants to say. The other human has always made himself a pest whenever their corps comes to visit. It’s probably because they are both humans and around the same age. Not that they’ve really spoken about how they both ended up here. 

He doesn’t answer Ryner and takes a sip of his drink instead. The playful smile on the green lantern holds no matter how long Ja's ignores him. 

“ So I'm going down to Terra thought maybe you’d like to come? Apparently Batman could use some extra hands. “

At the mention of Batman Ja's interest piques. It’s rare to hear about anyone from his former life. Of course he does look through mission logs from time to time. It’s public access in the lantern corps library after all- but otherwise it's uncommon for Bruce to ask for help. The last thingJas's saw was Batman, Nightwing and Robin rescuing Hal from a villain he didn’t recognize. 

Ryner is either ignorant to his inner conflict or ignores it. 

“ It’ll be fun. You know Bats never lets us in his city. Could be nice? We could get a burger afterwards. Maybe catch a movie. “

It sounds like a date. Ja's would think it’s one too if he hadn’t told Ryner exactly how he feels about those things. He’s a nice guy, not bad looking from what he can see… but still he needs- well he wants the spark. 

He meets the boyish smile with a frown but it does nothing to make it go away. He shouldn’t. He’s done pretty well ignoring both earth and the bats. Still the big huge heart in him wants. He wants to see Bruce again and help him. 

A tiny part of him wants to go home and pretend like his dad still loves him even though he’s gone and gotten a new kid. One who’s probably in Ja’s room with all new clothes that are fitting of a good son. A loved son. 

Ryner bumps shoulders with him pulling him out of his head. His ring had begun to flicker a bit from the emotional distress. The other human places a hand over it to block the light and Jason let’s him. It’s a distraction. 

“ C’mon Ja’s Earth isn’t like you remember it. Let me show you a good time? “

That stupid hopeful smile and the shy way Ryner really looks at him hurts. He’s weak to things like this. People actually caring about him. He’s practically starving for it. He swallows down his protest. After all it would probably be nice to see his family again. They probably wouldn’t even recognize him. He could go and help and then maybe take up Ryner on his offer for a burger. 

Something light. Something Casual. 

“ Fine.. That sounds ok- I’ll go. “

Ja's wishes he could ignore the stupid happiness radiating off of the other lantern. 

“ Swear to God Ja’s this is going to be so much fun- You aren’t gonna regret it. There’s this one place that serves burgers like the size of your head and the art on the wall is just so hilarious- “

Ja's rolls his eyes as he finishes the last of his drink. 

“ Shut up Ryner and don’t make me regret this. “

The green lantern mims zipping his mouth shut and Ja's laughs.

Turns out he’s actually right as well. 

Jas's hasn’t been to Earth in years and it really shows. The place looks different. Even Gotham in all its dirt and grime feels foriegn to him. He joins the other lanterns in their job of catching and sending the aliens back to a prison at the corps. It’s fun with the little quips the Green Lanterns seem to toss back and forth between one another. Jason isn’t used to it but it’s a vibrant kind of energy that leaves a smile on his face even while he’s fighting. 

With the group supers the battle is over quickly. Quick enough and Ja's finds himself disappointed. He doesn’t know why but ever since they’ve been back in Gotham he has been positively vibrating. It’s new and exciting and maybe it’s because he caught a few glimpses of familiar capes and blue. 

When they all land on the roof for briefing Ja's feels like he’s about to burst from the excitement. 

This time when Ryner bumps into his shoulder it isn’t quite as annoying and he bumps back. It’s playful and light which seems to be the mood with them all. That is until Batman comes down with his dark dramatics.Jas's goes stone still at the sight of him. A blue and Black shadow follows behind before the bright colors of Robin pop up the edge of the building. 

It’s- strange to him. Like being on the wrong side of a mirror. He takes in what he can see of Bruce’s face from under the mask. The worn lines seem just too deep to be on the man he thought of as his father. Even Dick’s posture feels different and the new Robin… Well Ja's wishes he could say he feels anger but if anything he just feels- strange. There’s also something else. It’s slow and thrumming in his mind like he’s running on outdated software. His entire body itches all over and all he wants is to get closer. He needs to be closer. Close enough to touch, feel and just make sure they're real. That they are who he remembers and not just a figment of his imagination-  

Ryner nudges him and Ja's hisses under his breath. 

“ We gotta go. Didn’t you hear the man? “

Ja's had not heard him. The soothing quality of Bruce’s voice always made it hard to focus. The dark timber of it has always been more relaxing than menacing in his opinion. Just- being so close to them but not with them feels so strange. He knows he has to go over there. It’s been years and he probably doesn’t even fit in space left. There's anxiety at the thought, to go home he'd be willing to cut away any parts of him that he needed to. He swallows. It’s a sad and small mindset, something that he’s supposed to be better than by now. 

“ Heard him say what? “

Someone clears their throat and now there’s all eyes on them. Apparently they weren’t being as quiet as they thought.

“ That your help has been appreciated but you are not welcome in my city. “

Hearing it and knowing it are two different things. While Ja's always knew how Bruce felt about metas and supers, actually being told to leave is equal parts hilarious and frustrating. The itch that has been nagging him turns into an entire rash. He takes two steps forward but Ryners hand stops him from closing the distance. He shrugs off the touch, it doesn’t feel right. 

“ Yea? And who decides who comes into Gotham. Last I checked I have a birth certificate sayin i’m Gothamite and that means I can come to this cesspool whenever I want. “

He spits the words in the accent to prove a point. He’s giving away too much- too much information. He knows how Bruce obsesses over identities. It's not like the corps where everyone knew everything. A few people look around and Jas's suddenly feels even smaller. Ryner pulls him back and he can’t get himself to move. He just stares at Bruce hoping- wishing that the man will know it’s him. That he’ll close the distance and hug him and hold him. That he’ll smell like home like he always did when Jason could fit on his lap. 

Because as many sisters as he has now he only has one living father, brother and grandfather. He only has them and Jason wants so badly to be told that he could have them again. Space has never felt like much of a home. As much as the others made efforts they’re versions of love and his are different. He clung to the idea of meeting a soul mate and being full but now that he’s actually in front of Bruce he just wants to be here. With his dad. 

The shush on the roof is eerie. Ryner pulls harder and this time Ja's stumbles back. 

“ Ja’s lets go. “

The hardness of his voice spurs him into action. Bruce doesn’t move. He doesn’t move an inch and it hurts so badly he thinks he might die. When the lanterns take off he hesitates for just a moment. His eyes find Dick’s hoping for…. He doesn’t know what. When their eyes meet his heart pounds and his blood rushes in his ears. The blankness he gets back makes him flinch.

His eyes flicker to the Robins and the innocent wide eye stare is just- too much. He feels like a spectacle. His eyes flutter around and soon he realizes just how out of place he is. Not like he ever fit to begin with. 

Shame rolls over him. He staggered back a few steps. No one moves and his throat goes dry. He turns and flies after Ryner in mortification.

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Beside You

Theo Nott x Healer!Reader. 

W.C. : 5180

Requested by the lovely @herstory-study​:  Hi again! I have another request for Theodore Nott if possible (bc I always imagine him to be like an absolute babeeee)... anyway, I was wondering if you could do a post war one shot where Nott is just trying to overcome him being on Voldy’s side and the reader defending him against assholes who judge him and helping him move on pleaseeee

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood, torture and death. I think that’s it. 

The war was over, it was finally over. Years of fear and torment at the hands of Voldemort and his followers were just a bad memory you and all your friends could finally start healing from. You had been on the easy side of the war, or more like the least damaging. Staying at Hogwarts and studying under the rule of Snape and the Carrows, although traumatic was nothing compared to what Harry, Hermione and Ron had to go through, as well as his more closest friends like the entire Weasley family, Neville and Luna. They had taken upon themselves to go and find the way to defeat Voldemort and they had done it successfully, after enduring some not so enjoyable moments and the loss of many loved ones. 

You had been there when Harry revealed himself to Snape, Professor McGonagall stepping in his defense as the crowd of students from all houses cleared the way with gasps and heavy breathing, you had been there when Professor McGonagall sent the entire Slytherin house to the dungeons as the rest of the houses helped clear the younger student and prepared for battle. 

You saw students fight, using all the training provided by Hogwarts and Harry himself against Voldemort forces. You saw people cry, laugh, scream, die and run. You had seen things that were now burned into your mind, waking you up in the middle of the night with a choked scream as cold sweat rolled down your forehead. 

You didn't even want to think what Harry and his friends woke up to in the middle of the night. 

But more worrying, you didn't want to know what the Slytherins woke up to in the mornings. 

Two year had passed by since the battle of Hogwarts, you had your life more or less back to normal. Whatever normal meant this days. You were training as healer at St. Mungos, not the easiest job but it payed off for food and your apartment besides the fact that you actually enjoyed it. It was full of surprises. 

"Morning, Y/N." said one of the healers as he arrived to the desk, greeting you with a peck on the cheek as he sign in for the day. 

"Dr. Williams," you said back, pointing to one of the rooms with a file in your hand "You arrived just in time," you handed him the file with an innocent smile "Julie, eight years old. Fell of her broom and broke her right arm." 

He sighed, taking the file from you "The day we get more than broken bones I'll buy you dinner." he winked your way, turning away before you could answer. 

Your shifts usually started at noon and ended late at night. It was going to be a long day. 

And just as you thought the day stretched out like it was a boring class at Hogwarts, the day slow with only three patients, giving a lot of free time to Dr. Williams to shamelessly flirt with you. 

"I've told you before, it's Jason." he said with a smirk, leaning in the desk as the other Healers stared at you two "Dr. Williams sounds too serious." he shrugged, like his title was something he was ashamed of. 

"Well this is a serious environment Dr. Williams, you are technically my boss." you said, not looking up from the papers you had to fill before the end of the day, which was in 30 minutes. 

"Oh, c'mon Y/N!" he exclaimed, a smile always in his face as he took the quill from your hand. 

You lifted your face in annoyance, trying to reach for the quill when he lifted his hand above his head "Jason, I need that." you grumbled tiredly, opening your palm for him to return it. 

He grinned "See? Wasn't that hard to call me by my name." he placed the quill back in your hand, finally finishing the papers. 

You shook your head, gathering everything in your arms to take it back to its place. But the sound of the door bursting open caught yours and everyone's attention, a gasp leaving your lips as you saw the group of people entering the hospital. 

"We need a healer!" said the girl, two man carrying one that could barely stand. He had blood dripping from his forehead and nose, a bruise in his cheek. 

You analyzed the other two as the healers there took the man from them. Clothes blood stained, some parts ripped as if they had pulled harshly from them. They had certainly been on a fight. 

"This isn't the emergency room," muttered Jason as he neared the bed where they had laid the man. He was unconscious, but you were sure he would wake up to a lot of pain. 

"Just shut up and help him," you hissed, starting to prepare him for the healers. 

Jason stared at you in shock, taking a second to react as he draw his wand, muttering healing spells that started to make him regain some color. 

You cleaned his face, his features becoming more visible as you froze "Malfoy." you whispered, capturing Jason's attention. 

"What?" he growled, moving your hand that was brushing his dirty hair out of his face, leaving his pale face out in the open. "Bloody hell, a fucking Slytherin.“

You glared at him, fire burning inside of you as you pushed him with all your force "Get away from him." you growled, drawing your own wand as everyone stared at you, only one of the trained healers kept on working beside you. 

"What the hell, Y/N?!" shouted Jason, slamming the door to the room they had moved him close "You are not a trained healer, I am."

You made as kind with your throat, swallowing all the words you wanted to scream "At least I'll try, you're going to let him die because of his Hogwarts house." you muttered bitterly. 

You heard him grunt, pacing in the room as the door opened. Your actual boss, Healer Whitethorn examined the room with a glare "Williams, out." she ordered, a smile on your face before she set her eyes on you "You too, Y/L/N." she said, stepping in with wand in her hand. 

"But…" 

"Out!" you flinched at her loud voice, her eyes meeting yours "You are on Williams team, he's out and so are you. Check on the other that came with him." 

You huffed, reluctantly going outside as you threw away your lab coat on the chair. Your other coworker ran at your side, giving to a reassuring look before she settled on the three defeated persons at the waiting room. 

"I'll take two of them," she murmured in your ear "Take the bleeding one, I'll take the girl and Mr, Bruises over there." 

She didn't wait for your answer, calling to girl for inspection as you stared back at the bleeding one, according to her. 

"Come with me." you said standing in front of him, his head low and only lifting slightly to look at you when he noticed your there. 

"I'm fine," he mumbled, shaking his head at you. 

"Sir, you are dragging your words and your head is bleeding," you told him matter of factly "I can't let you go if you don't let me at least clean the wound." 

The man at his side nudged him, giving him a small smile "Go on mate, you took one blow for Draco, I just held Pansy back. We need you alive to go find them later."

He looked at him incredulous, his mouth slightly open with a thousand words he wanted to say at the tip of his tongue but decided against it. He sighed, slowly standing up when he stumbled slightly, eyes wide as he tried to focus on something, anything. The only thing he could found was you, both hands gripping tightly at his forearms making him regain his balance. 

"Thanks." he breathed out, returning the safe grip on your arms.

You nodded reassuringly, taking slow steps backwards and into one of the examination rooms. He made it with little problems, slumping on the bed. 

"Do you know your name?" you asked, putting on a new pair of gloves. 

"Theodore, uh- Theo. " he said lowly, not meeting your eyes. 

You hummed, starting your work on the gash in his head. "Last name?" you asked, ignoring the hissing sounds the alcohol pulled from him. He had his eyes closed, and you pulled a chair for you as you stared at him. "Theo?" you called again, fearing he wasn't listening to you. 

You breathed out in relief when one of his eyes popped open, looking at you before he sighed in defeat "Nott." he said, watching you carefully for any reaction. 

He hadn't seen when you pulled a file, writing down his answers "Theodore Nott," you repeated as you wrote it down "Head injury, possible concussion." you said out loud, closing it and looking back at him, clearly he wasn’t eager to answer the questions.

"You're going to have to stay the night just to be sure that the head injury is nothing more than that." you told him, handing him the a bag for his clothes and the hospital gown, closing the curtain so he could change.

Theo reluctantly changed, doing quick work in his clothes to not keep you and his friends waiting. Luckily for him you looked nice, kind. You hadn’t reacted to his name and your attitude towards him was completely professional, not a single hint of judgement in your eyes .

“Mr. Nott?” he heard you call, the door of the room opening with your voice following “Do you need help?”

He breathed out, opening the curtain with his bag tucked under his arm “Ready.” he said lowly. 

You took the bag from him, taking his arm again “Can you walk?” you asked him, standing in front of him he gave you a soft nod and you began walking slowly. The silence was peaceful, but you has thing to tell him, breaking the much needed peace. 

“Technically I should place you in this floor,” you told him lowly, avoiding the looks of any Healer you passed, keeping your chin up and up front “But since your friend is more injured and you are staying the night, the fourth floor is going to be where you stay. I've informed your friends you are staying the night and they said they will be here in the morning.” 

He gave you a questioning look, clearly they were close to each other to be involved in fights together. Or maybe fate wasn't that fair to them but from their interactions you saw before they seemed friends. You could only assume. 

"I sent them home," you explained "They might not be that injured but they will need the rest." 

He looked down at you, the height difference more notorious now that he stood next to you. He gave you a small smile, not one that you saw, your eyes staying in your path at all times.

“Here,” you whispered for him to turn, the room poorly lighted until you could get your wand out, a flick of your hand and the place was properly lighted. “Malfoy would be across the hall. As soon as he wakes up, you and your friends can go see him.” you informed him, helping him get under the covers.

You made sure he ha anything he might need, a glass of water and another blanket close by so he wouldn’t have to move. “Is there anything else you might need, Mr. Nott?” you asked him from the door.

He looked at you, his eyebrows knitted in his forehead “Theo,” he said “Call me Theo, Mr. Nott was my father.” he told you, a nod from you as you neared his bed again.

“Forgot to introduce myself,” you laughed nervously “Y/N Y/L/N, I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here.” you said, getting a positive response from him. 

You made your way out of the room without another word closing the door softly behind you, the last thing you saw being him letting his head fall softly in the pillow, almost in defeat.

“What the hell was that?!” 

You snapped out of your head, tuning in your place as you saw Jason practically run towards you with a glare that you mirrored, turning in your heel and away from him. But he was taller and faster, catching up with you fast as he grabbed your arm forcing you to face him “Answer me, Y/N.” he growled, his face inches from yours.

“Like you don’t know,” you spat, your eyes roaming angrily all over his face “We all know you’re the proudest Gryffindor here, you take the rivalry with Slytherin to a whole new level.” you took his hand with all the force you had, pulling it away from your arm. 

He stared at you, saying nothing and you laughed bitterly “What is it, Jason?” you said with a sardonic smile, saying his name with all the anger you had “You think I haven’t noticed how you change cases with Adams so you don’t have to treat Slytherins? I literally work for you and notice all, listen to everything that comes out of your mouth.”

“You better stop now.” he warned, his eyes hardening. 

“Or what?” you dared, taking a threatening step towards him “You’re going to tell Whitethorn? Let’s go now, maybe you can tell her too why Marie, a Slytherin, hasn’t worked with you and only with Adams.” 

He stared at you, his jaw clenched as he physically fought the shaking anger you produced on him. “Fucking hell.” he muttered, slamming his hand on the wall beside your head before he walked away, your lips letting out a shaky breath once he turned on the corner. 

You stayed there, back against the wall as you slide down to the floor with your eyes closed, trying hard to even your breathing but failing. 

“Y/N?” you heard Marie, her light steps sounding closer untils she was next to you “You okay? What happened?” she asked, taking your hands from your face and pulling you to your feet.

You shook your head, keeping it low as you cleaned the single tear that fell from your eyes “Williams is an asshole, that’s what happened.” you said, your voice cracking a little when you said his name.

She gave you a sad smile, knowing exactly what you meant “It’s late, do you wanna stay with me tonight?” she asked. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to stay at each others places, your shifts were practically the same and you lived relatively close. But then your eye catched on Healer Adams getting Draco Malfoy to his room, you thought that maybe staying back with your own patient wasn’t a bad idea.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna stay here for the night,” you told her, pointing to the door behind you.

“You sure?” she asked you with the raise of her eyebrow “I got your favorite waiting for you.” she sang, but you only shook your head and she nodded with a knowing look “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” she said giving you a quick hug before walking to the stairs and disappearing from your eyes.

You took a moment before walking back to Theo’s room, making sure you weren’t too loud. What you weren't’ expecting was for him to be awake, lazily staring at you as you walked inside. 

“Mr. uh- no, Theo.” you said finally, memories of Hogwarts when you had the answer at the tip of your tongue but your brain was going faster than your mouth could and you ended up blurting everything but the right answer came back to you. 

“Did I wake you?” you asked with a tight smile.

He shook his head, pointing at the sofa at the corner of the room “Please, sit.” he said, waiting for you to do so “There was a loud noise and I rarely can sleep this early.” he said.

You looked in confusion at the clock on the wall, returning your gaze at him “It’s one in the morning.” you told him.

He smiled softly, lowering his head again “Still, I can’t sleep.” he whispered, breathing deeply “I would much rather your company, if you don’t mind.”

You smiled more relaxed, making yourself more comfortable "Your on luck, I have to take care of you for the night." 

"The entire night?" he asked with a gasp, his eyes curiously roaming all over you. 

Of course, you had your head elsewhere, his file in your lap. "I'm a healer in training," you said softly looking back at him "We get to the the work no one wants to." 

 "I'm glad is you." he mumbled, catching your attention with immediately "That other man didn't seemed… Nice." he finished, a little doubtful if he did right in telling that to his coworker, but the knowing nod you have him put him at ease. 

You pointed at the wall "The loud noise was him." you said, voice shaky "He is a great healer, probably the best we've got," you paused, looking down at your hands as you bit your lip in thought "He cares very deeply for what happened at the war."

You saw his body stiffened, his arms coming at his sides as he subtly moved to the far side from you. You pursed your lips "I don't, really. I'm sure everyone played their part." you added more cheerfully "Now I need to film your file, do you mind if ask you some questions?" 

"Okay," he said. 

You nodded getting the paper and quill "Great, I have your name and why were you admitted." you said, tapping on the page before you lifted your face "Age?" 

"Twenty," he answered. 

You smiled writing it down "We're the same age. I don't remember you from Hogwarts."

"I-I wasn't that sociable. I mainly stuck to my house mates." he told you. 

"Slytherin?" you asked, watching his eyes widen "Not everyone was friends with Draco Malfoy." you added, and he nodded. 

"Yeah, Slytherin." he said bitterly. 

The night was spent with you two chatting about your lives and the your time at Hogwarts. He talk about his favorite subjects, he's hobbies and friends, how he wanted to travel and get to know  the world and maybe even move. He wanted a fresh start away from the war and what used to be his family. He wanted to go to a place where no one knew who Theodore Nott was. 

You told him about how simple your life was, consisting of basic needs and your training as a healer. Free time was a forgotten concept for you, the few friends you used to have now married or being successful, your only friend being Marie. 

You actually had made a day that night. 

When the sun rose on the sky, it didn't long for the visitors to start arriving. Theo was discharged an o my changed rooms when Blaise and Pansy got there, going to see the Slytherin prince himself. 

A few hours were spent with casual iochat and worried remarks when Healer Adam's told them they had to leave him to rest. Promises were made to return later that day or the next, and you watched from the desk of the fourth floor as they left, a sinking feeling in your heart as they descended the stairs. 

Only they didn't. 

"Y/N? “ your heard someone call softly, the voice that still was recorded on your mind from the previous night  filling the air once more. 

"Yeah?" you smiled, looking up from your food. 

He looked nervous, the tiny smile appearing in his face "I was wondering if I could stop by someday? Maybe go out?" he asked, scratching the back of his head with a nervous yet charming smile. 

You chuckled, covering the blush in your cheeks as you nodded "I would love that." 

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

Accepting that date was the beginning of the best years of your life. 

You went on that one date and connected instantly, even more than the few hours you talked at St. Mungos. One coffee date turned into dinner and surprise visits when you were working, soft smiles and holding hands while you walked turned into passionate kisses and falling asleep in each other's arms. Talking about your days turned into deep conversations about life and your future. Understatement turned into love. 

Three years has gone by since that first date and you knew you never wanted to leave Theo's side. You knew who he was and were proud of him, even in the days that he wasn't. 

"Theo?" you said loudly, his big mansion requiring the elevated voice for him to hear you from the entrance "I'm home, dear." you said again, paying more attention to the sounds in the house. Or more like the lack of them. 

Your footsteps echoed the halls as the only sign of someone being there. You walked to the study where he usually was, empty with no book open or parchment over the desk. The kitchen was your second guess, his only house elf there welcoming you but saying nothing of the whereabouts of your boyfriend. You started to feel fidgety as you made your way to the stairs to go to his room when your eye caught the fire burning in the living room, the back of his head popping over the single couch there, the place he hated the most in the house. 

"Theo?" you called again, walking slowly behind him. The glass in his hand making little flickers shine on the walls with the light of the fire.

He didn't answer you, barely gave you a side glance to acknowledge your presence before he took a slow sip of his glass. 

You took a shaky breath, going to sit on the floor in front of him. You rested your arms in his lap, looking for his eyes with a small smile "What is it?" you asked him and he shook his head "Is something, you're in the living room. You hate it in here." you said softly. 

He couldn't help but look at you, your voice sounding what he imagined an angel's voice was like. He wanted to smile, to reach his hand to your cheek and tell you he loved you. But the voice in his head was right, he wasn't worthy of it. Of you. 

"It's nothing," he murmured, voice hoarse as he spoke "Just a bad day." 

You nodded, taking his free hand in yours and intertwining your fingers with his "You want to tell me about it?" you asked. 

He rose his eyebrows, talking about what was going on inside his head something still so foreign to him. He didn't want to burden you with his problems, even if you knew, knowing and actively being part of them was different. He had noticed how you have him his space, never forcing him to talk and instead taking his mind away from what was bothering him. 

"I can tell you about my day," you offered when he stayed quiet, his eyes softening at your bright smile "You don't have to say anything, just listen." you said, crawling a little closer to him. 

You looked like a little child, moving your arms and making voices and faces as you narrated your day at work. It wasn't even that amazing as you made it sound, but he still found it amusing how you made a harmless spell backfiring on someone sound like one of the trial Hercules went through. 

You saw him smiling down at you, but never point it out and instead carrying on with the story until the end. 

"That's amazing, love." he said, leaning to kiss your forehead softly, lingering there for a little more than usual. 

You stated sadly at him, looking over his fallen features. It hurt you to watch him so defeated, to not be able to do anything for him. You wanted nothing more than to be able to take his pain away for at least a moment, to make him see what you saw. Not a bad man but a changed one. 

"You know I love you, right?" you told him, caressing his cheek with your thumb. His eyes snapped at you both in shock and fear, but he nodded nonetheless and you smiled "And that there is no one I would rather have by my side?" 

He took your hand, stopping your movement in his face "I'm bad Y/N," he said coldly "The things I did, what I became…" 

"You did because you had no other choice." you said strongly, taking a kneeling position as you held his face in your hands "You did it to survive and you did."

"It was awful." he whispered, the images flashing in his head. The students and people that opposed to Voldemort, their bodies laying on the floor of the very same house he lived in, some still whimpering silently as they stated at the lifeless ones next to them. All the cries of pain and screaming begs for him to stop, the fearful eyes staring at his wand as he muttered the words. Those three words that should have him locked away in Azkaban to never see the light of day again, to never see his friend again, so he could have never met you. 

He didn't deserve the happiness you have him when he had cause so much pain, so much suffering, so much death. 

"I don't deserve this." he said, pushing your hands away from him as he stood. 

"Theo," you whispered going after him and taking his arm in your hand "You do deserve it." 

He looked back at you, eyes tormented as he tilted his head "You're just saying it because you love me, and that is exactly my point." he said loudly "Why do you love me? You know what I've done, what has happened in this house." 

You bit the inside of your cheek to not yell, trying to keep clam for the both of you "I love you because you make me happy," you started to say calmly "Because you love me too and care for me as much as I care for you. Because even if you've done things you regret you aren't those things. You have been there for me in my lowest days and you never loved me less for that so I'll be damned if I let you feel like you don't deserve my love or the love of your friends." you ended up yelling, your chest moving fast with your breathing before it  was crushed. 

Theo had launched himself to your arms, silently weeping in your neck as you reacted with the same emotion, wrapping your arms around his chest. He lifted you slightly from the ground but you couldn't care less, he could damped your shirt with his tears and you wouldn't even blink an eye. 

You brought one hand to the back of his head, slowly running your fingers through his hair. "You're a wonderful person, Theodore Nott. And I will make sure you now that every single day." you whispered in his ear, his embrace tightening. 

You pulled from him after a moment, looking lovingly into his eyes, pointing to the glass he had abandoned over the table " Finish that up, darling." you told him. 

He frowned but didn't fight you, downing the glass in one go "Why, where are we going?" he asked following you to the entrance as you grabbed your coat, handing him his. 

"Comfort food." you said with a smile, opening your hand for him to take an apparating in Diagon Alley. 

He had always compared you to a child, a very clever child in the body of a beautiful woman, he said. And you could see why, not fifteen minutes had passed and you were already holding two coffees and a lot of his favorite pastries. 

You sat down on a bench, eating away without a care in the world as the people walked by. 

"You are good with comfort food.' he said to you, a tiny smile playing in his lips. 

"Only the best for you, my love." you told him stretching your neck as much as you could to kiss him. In the end he ended up leaning down and you smiled in the kiss. 

Of course, the world hated you. The characteristic clear of a throat you had come to hate and despise making you pull with a glare. 

"Y/N, is good to see you here."

"It's healer Y/L/N to you, Williams," you said, glancing at Theo when his eyes followed him. 

"I see your still with the Slytherin coward." he said smugly, a grin as he eyes Theo "Did you enjoyed running from the battle, you snake? "

“I don't know Jason, did you enjoy hiding in the Great Hall while everybody fought?" he answered, not even looking amused his face looked void of any emotion a she stood up, standing face to face."You see, I was at the battle and I saw you. Never thought it was worth mentioning but you seem very eager to talk about it now." he told him. 

Jason clenched his jaw, turning to you "You can do better than this." he grunted, with his hand pointing at Theo. 

"Not possible," you said, staring straight into his eyes "Now get out of our sight before I hex you permanently to the fourth floor." you hissed, stepping between him and Theo. 

He had turned furiously, storming away before you call "And Jason? Don't you ever dare say anything to him again. He might be a Slytherin but I am a pissed Y/H/H." 

You left the threat hanging in the air, watching him go as you turned back to Theo. Your face changed so fast he didn't know if it had been real, your shaking face replaced by a sweet smile as you sat back down, handing him his cup of coffee. 

"Theo, you can sit now." you told him, his eyes shining as he did. It took you a moment to realize he was staring at you, a chuckle leaving your mouth as you playfully slapped his arm "Stop looking at me like that." 

But he did even listen to you, taking your hand as you looked at him in surprise "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." he told you, bringing your hand to his lips. 

You smiled shyly, blushing slightly that it could be mistaken by the cold air in your face "I love you, Y/N." he said, bringing you to his arms. 

"I love you too." you whispered, nuzzling your head in his shoulder as he held you close to him, and you decided then and there,

You never wanted to leave his arms. 

TAGS: @fanficflaneuse​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @lupins-sweater​ @accio-rogers​ @gloriousrebelrunaway​ @slytherinprincess03​ @not-today-anxiety​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @infinity1o1​ @haphazardhufflepuff​

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[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Five - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Thank you everyone for your feedbacks!

It makes me really happy to see that you like this story and motivates me to write.

Which is why you get two chapters this week!

Getting to know each other turned out to be pretty easy. Not only did the soulmate magic made them be at ease for each other, but Marinette made it a game out of it. The first game was a classic twenty questions, where they each got twenty questions to ask each other.

Robin was grateful that his soulmate didn’t ask for any too personal questions. She asked him if he had siblings but didn’t ask how many nor for their name. She asked for his favorite color, his favorite meal, his favorite kind of music. She asked for his pass time and favorite TV shows.

For each question they asked, the other would also answer. And thus, he told her how much he loved animals, that he had a dog, a cat, and a cow, and he was a vegetarian ever since he adopted said cow. He told her that he loved to read and to draw, and promised to show her one of his drawings after she nicely asked.

Then, she turned the game into two truths and a lie. And this one made him smile as he had done some crazy things as Robin which made it hard for her to figure out which one was the lie.

Then again, he was also surprised by some of the things she had done.

There was more to Marinette than it first appeared.

They stayed on the roof until five in the morning, only stopping because the blue-eyed girl was starting to fall asleep mid-sentence. So he took her in his arms and took her back to the window of her hotel room where they promised in a whisper to meet at the same time that night.

After four hours of talking, Robin was satisfied as he felt like he knew Marinette better than some people he had known for longer.

That’s probably what happens when you actually put effort into knowing someone, he mused as he got home.

Right as he got out of his uniform and prepared himself to go to bed to catch at least an hour of sleep, he remembered that he had to do a little bit of research about his soulmate.

Not to stalk her or to know everything about her by checking her background. But the feeling that he had seen her before didn’t disappear at all that night, and he wouldn’t be at peace until he knew why.

So he went to the Batcave, empty at this hour of the night, or rather, this early in the morning. As he sat at the computer and typed Marinette’s full name, he discovered that there was already a file on her.

This meant that his family had made some research about her prior to their meeting.

Upon opening the file, he cursed himself for not connecting the dots.

Back when Hawkmoth started to terrorize the city of Paris and Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared to fight against him, Batman had Red Robin investigating the matter.

He wanted to know who was behind the masks of the heroes and the villain, especially since the duo of heroes seemed to be made of children.

While magic was involved in the matter, it didn’t mix well with technology, so Tim had tried to run a facial recognition for the heroes, hoping the magic wouldn’t work on technology.

Unfortunately, Hawkmoth was the kind of guy to act from the shadows and there wasn’t any picture of him anywhere on the internet.

It took a good week, as Paris had millions of people, but they eventually got a result.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug and Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.

Both were only thirteen when they first began their job as superheroes, and no adult was ever seen by their side.

It was also obvious that none of them had any training and were only trusting their instincts. Odds were that they were literally thrown into the superhero business without their consent and, most likely, without any proper explanation.

Damian remembered that he had rarely seen his father and his brothers so mad about something that didn’t have anything to do with the Joker. Batman had then called the Justice League of Europe himself, demanding to know why children were playing superheroes when it was their job, but was then asked nicely to mind his own business back in America and that Paris was not under Batman’s jurisdiction.

There was nothing they could do to help the two heroes, but they had been keeping tabs on the situation in Paris.

That explained why Marinette was not as awkward as she should have been with the “my soulmate has a secret identity” issue. She knew better than to ask personal questions since she herself had a secret identity to protect.

Damian sighed, massaging his temples. He didn’t want to keep too many secrets from Marinette. While he knew there were some things he wouldn’t talk about for some time — his childhood — and he wouldn’t reveal his identity before long, he still didn’t feel like keeping the fact that he knew her identity would be a good way to start any kind of relationship with her.

He would have to tell her when he’ll see her tonight.

Looking at the time on the computer, the youngest Wayne sighed.

So much for catching some sleep.

And he still had to have a conversation with his father.

Despite having only an hour of sleep that night, Marinette managed to wake up at six sharp, even before Alya.

Never before has she been in such a good mood after waking up so early and with only an hour of sleep.

It was a good thing that she got up before her friend too, as she had to figure out how to put contacts on.

“So, I get it that it went well last night?”

Marinette looked up from the little box of contacts, from which she was reading the instructions. She smiled at Tikki, who was looking at her with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, it went well. Sorry I didn’t take you with me.”

Tikki shrugged.

“It was probably better that way. He’s not a civilian, one small error from me and he would have you figured out.”

“We talked for hours. I was at peace with him, it felt like I knew him already and after we talked, it feels like I’ve known him way longer.”

The tiny god smiled.

“That’s part of the soulmate magic. You’ll always feel at ease with each other and the most time you spend together right after your meeting, the more you’ll feel like it. Do you know if your bond is a platonic or a romantic one?”

The designer winced as she poked her eye trying to put the contact on.

“That’s harder than it seems.” She tried once more before answering, “Well, I think Robin is very attractive.”

Which was exactly what told you if your bond is romantic or not. The bond didn’t make you instantly love your soulmate, no, those feelings would develop at your own pace, but instant attraction was the key to know whether a bond is platonic or not.

You’re attracted to your soulmate? The bond is romantic.

You’re not attracted to your soulmate? The bond is platonic.

It’s as simple as that.

“It’s a romantic one, then! I’m so happy for you Marinette!”

“Thank you, Tikki.” the designer smiled.

They were silent then, Tikki enjoying a cookie and the black-haired girl still trying to put the contact on.

It took approximately ten tries before she finally put it on, and just as Alya was knocking on the bathroom’s door.

“Are you almost done?”

The baker’s daughter opened the door with the brightest smile she couldn’t manage.

“It’s all yours!”

The journalist giggled.

“Well, aren’t you happy?”

“I’m always happy, Alya! Come on, now. Go take a shower and change, I can’t wait for today’s visit!”

When Damian came home from school that day, he went straight to bed to take a good nap before dinner. He had done his homework during the day so he could have the evening entirely free. If he wanted to announce to his family that he met his soulmate during dinner, it would be after he was well-rested.

No way was he dealing with that when he was half asleep.

It’s Titus who woke him up twenty minutes before dinner, barking behind his door, probably wanting to be let out outside.

He took the dog outside, playing with him and petting him for a while before Alfred came to tell him that dinner was ready.

After washing his hands, he joined his father and his brothers at the table, wondering how he should bring up the topic of meeting his soulmate.

Turned out, he didn’t have to worry as Dick brought it up himself.

“So, Damian, don’t you have something to share with the family?”

It was enough to silence them all.

Jason raised a brow.

“Something’s wrong, demon spawn?”

The green-eyed boy sighed, putting his fork down.

“Nothing’s wrong, Todd. It’s just…” he turned to look at his father. “I met my soulmate last night. As Robin.”

It was silent once again until Jason let out a low whistle.

“Damn, that’s news. Wonder how she is.”

“She’s such a cutie!” exclaimed Dick.

Bruce cleared his voice.

“I see. It’s a little problematic that you met her under your alias, but… Congratulations, Damian.”

“So that’s why you came back at five in the morning.” mused Tim.

“Come on, tell us about her little D.”

The youngest sighed. They would meet her eventually, so it was better to give them the information they were seeking.

“She’s a French student here on a trip for your Career Program, father.”

“She’s from the winning class that will be interning next week, then?”

Damian nodded.

“I’ve run a background check on each of them. Ladybug and Chat Noir are among them.”

Tim frowned. “Will Paris be alright with them away?”

“They must have a plan to keep Paris safe, they wouldn’t leave just like that.”

Damian took a deep breath.

“About that… My soulmate’s name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Dick’s, Tim’s and Bruce’s eyes visibly widened and Jason let out a snort.

“Figured your soulmate would be a hero.”

“At least, that means she’s understanding about your identity, right?” asked Dick.

The young heir nodded.

“I see. Will you tell her that you know about her identity?” asked his father.

“I will. If I want us to start on the right foot, it’s the best thing to do. She understands that I have to keep my identity a secret, but it’s another thing to know hers and to keep it a secret.”

Bruce nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“You’ve grown, Damian.”

Damian could feel his ears go red from his father’s praise.

“I know that you can’t keep your identity a secret from her forever but… I trust you to wait until you completely trust her before you do tell her, and telling us beforehand, as once she knows about you, it won’t be hard for her to figure out ours.”

“Of course, father.”

Dinner then went as usual, until they all stood up after finishing and his father came to him, giving him an unexpected and somewhat awkward hug.

“I’m happy for you.”

As he saw his brothers smile at him from behind his father, Damian thought that, maybe, from now on, he could talk a little more to his family.

One step at a time, though.

They agreed with his father that he wouldn’t be patrolling for the next two weeks so he could get to spend time with the tiny French girl for the duration of her trip.

It was the first time that Damian didn’t protest about sitting out of patrol.

Marinette was in Gotham for only two weeks, and he wanted to get to know her as much as possible during those two weeks.

So when he took her to the roof at one sharp after giving her his cape to hide her from sight, he told her that they could meet earlier if she wanted.

They agreed to meet at eleven from now on, as her roommate tended to fall asleep around ten, luckily for them.

Before they got in another conversation to learn more about each other, he had to bring up a delicate issue.

“I need to tell you something.”

Marinette smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but compare this smile to the sun.

“What is it?”

He winced before taking a deep breath.

“Back when Hawkmoth appeared in Paris, we couldn’t believe that the superheroes were just two children so we investigate a bit to help. The JLE rejected our offer though… Anyway, we did some facial recognition for Ladybug and Chat Noir and… Well, to put it simply, I know that you’re Ladybug, and I thought it would be better to tell you I knew than to keep this piece of information from you.”

The fashion designer stared at him, completely silent. He stayed silent too, giving her all the time she needed to process what he just told her.

“I see.”

He could see her having trouble breathing, on the verge of a panic attack.

He hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry, except for us, no one knows and we won’t tell anyone.”

Marinette took a few breaths before looking at him.

“Sorry. It’s the first time someone figured out my identity and I’m trying not to freak out. I’ve always been told how important it is that no one knows about me being Ladybug that I can’t help but panic.”

“Understandable. But, no one knows about you being Ladybug?”

The teenage girl shook her head no.

It made Robin mad. That girl had so many great responsibilities on her shoulder, and no adult to guide her or to vent to when it became too much.

“What kind of person just drop a miraculous to a child anyway?” he asked not too kindly.

Marinette flinched.

“The guardian… He just chose people that were the most compatible with the miraculous… And children are less likely to use the miraculous for evil so…”

“It doesn’t excuse anything. You were just a child without any guidance. You shouldn’t have the responsibility of Paris’ safety on your shoulders.”

The girl shrugged.

“There’s nothing we can do about that.”

“I could always introduce this guardian to my sword.”

“He’s not here anymore.”

As he was about to answer to that, mad that she was now completely alone except for her partner in all this business, she raised a hand.

“But let’s not talk about it. You know about me. That’s one secret I don’t have to keep and honestly, it’s like a weight off my shoulders, even if it’s not ideal that you know.”

She stopped to take a deep breath, now completely calm. She raised her head, looking at him in the eyes and giving him a shy smile.

“I won’t ask for your identity, don’t worry. We’ll cross that bridge when you’re ready, okay?”

He nodded, grateful that she didn’t ask for his identity in exchange for hers.

“Now, I remember you told me that you loved dogs. I have some very cute pictures to show you!”

Her smile was so bright and contagious that he couldn’t but smile a little too, as he got closer to her to watch her phone over her shoulder.  

Tag list: 

@bigpicklebananatree​ @animegirlweeb​ @crazylittlemunchkin​ @northernbluetongue​ @cutechip​ @justafanwarrior​ @iloontjeboontje​ @resignedcatservant​ @maribat-is-lifeblood​ @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @mikantsume​ @dast218​

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon pt. 10

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home. Part 1 Part 9 Part 10(HERE) Part 11 This will probably be the last update for awhile, I start student teaching this coming week and I’m nervous as all hell right now ____________________________________________

“We have so much to do,” Marinette mumbled as she stood, stretching her shoulders out.

“Such as what angel?” 

Adrian raised his hand, “Letting Paris know that there’s more heroes here is probably near the top.” 

“Got it in one Kitty,”  

Kim snorted,  “They might flip out otherwise when they see so many new masks running around and think we have a Scarlet moth incident on our hand.” 

The team groaned out agreements from around Chloe’s room as the Bats looked over them with mild interest. It was closing in on midnight, each of the teens remaining having gotten permission from their parents to stay at the hotel for the night. The Kwamis had taken the plate of cookies, camembert, sugar cubes, sashimi, honey, bananas, and celery Chloe had ordered, and promptly ignored the strange look the room service personnel had given her,  for them to the closed bedroom, excited to have so many of them together and free to talk openly without hiding or disappearing into the hidden dimension of the miraculous box. 

“What’s a Scarlet moth?” Tim asked, trying to remember if he had seen the name anywhere in his research, “Hawkmoth’s apprentice?” 

“Nope,” Chloe groaned, rubbing her eyes with an exhausted air, “It’s when Hawkmoth akumatizes someone, Mayra probably so that their power is to power him up so that he can akumatized multiple people at once. The akumas turn scarlet when he does this so we nickname him Scarlet Moth when he pulls that crap.” 

“First time,” Marinette sighed, “He had someone make an illusion of me akumatized, killing Chat Noir in front of all of Paris. Most of the city was distraught enough to fall prey to the akumas and it took Chat, me and three other temporary heroes to take him out. Since then he’s pulled Scarlet Moth out eight times with various levels of success, and twice they’ve done something similar but with Mayra’s amoks, we call those Crimson Peacock events.”

“It’s a ridiculously long day every time,” Chloe groans, “Akumas usually take anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour to fight, Amoks usually take an hour or two,  both will be three to four hours, but crimson Peacock and Scarletmoth? The quickest we’ve taken those out is six hours.” 

The Gotham heroes groaned in sympathy, images Joker, Poison Ivy, Scarecrow and the Court of Owls bigger plays flashing through their heads. Telling the citizens that there wasn’t a major issue to deal with would make their jobs easier. 

“What we’re just going to knock on that Ladyblog chick’s window then?”  Jason asked only to see the Paris heroes' faces scrunch up in disgust. 

“No, Never,” Kim spat, “Not in a million years. Not after all the fucking stunts she's pulled.” 

“Language Master Kim,” Alfred chastised with a raised brow, “You can express your distaste for the young woman without resorting to such vulgarity.” 

“Sorry,” Kim blushed sheepishly, “But she really has pulled a lot of things that tick me off, don’t even think I could list them all. Harassing people over not agreeing with her ‘professional’ opinion, taking the side of Lila even over Ladybug telling her, reporting anyone else trying to share miraculous news for not going through her.” 

“Chasing us down when we’re about to change back to harass us about our identity as if we hadn’t already explained to her why we keep them secret,” Alix added with a tired frown, “The amount of times I’ve had to use Burrow just to get one of us away from her is ridiculous.”

 “Dragging her little sisters into the middle of the Akuma attacks for footage,” Adrian hissed, anger causing his eyes to nearly glowing, “I can’t even begin to count every time our jobs were made harder because we had to rescue them…or how many times those little girls got hurt… ” 

 “Not to mention the shipping wars and rumors she starts just for views,” Chloe grumbles, “If I have to hear another take on how I’m either  in love with my superhero self or trying to murder her to take back the bee miraculous, I’m going to gouge my ears out with a rusty spoon.” 

“So yeah,” Marinette concluded, “We don’t interview with Alya anymore. She used to be a really good friend but Lila has spent years twisting her ambitions and changing her into someone toxic.” 

 “Take the Bee miraculous?” Dick asked, dislike for the reporter growing more with every word but decided to take the safe route and change the subject, no need risk akumation, “Why would they think that?” 

Alix snorted, “Oh cause out of everyone in Paris the last person anyone would think to have the bee miraculous is Chloe.”

“Yes,” Max agreed, eyeing the blonde, “I’ve been meaning to ask, how did Marinette decide to give you your miraculous back after the Miraculous Queen incident?”

“Because she only did as we planned,” Adrian said with a slight smirk making the other's jaws drop, “Hawkmoth was already watching her and trying to get her to go dark with the promise of the Bee miraculous he had taken from us.” 

“Chloe actually reached out to me,” Marinette laughed, “Remember when she made that big deal about allowing me to do commissioned work for her that year?”

“Well yeah,” Alix said slowly, “But she does that like once a year… Even when she was at her worst Marinette Originals were hot ticket items.” 

“I was really trying to get into contact with the mangy cat, or at least that’s what I said. I kinda… knew Marinette was Ladybug..” Chloe grumbled, not looking at them.

“WHAT!” The mentioned heroine squeaked, “How on Earth-”

“After getting Pollen,” Chloe cut in, “I realized she bore a striking resemblance to a certain red and black toy I stole from you when Prince Ali visited when showed up Princess Perfume.”

“You knew this whole time?” Adrian asked, “And said nothing even while akumatized?” 

“I mean, duh,” The blonde scoff, “Don’t be ridiculous, I might not have done my homework back then but I’m not an idiot. I just focused on my hate of Ladybug and didn’t think about Marinette at all, he was too giddy to have such a powerful Akuma he didn’t go digging in my head.” 

“So you what,” Alix asked, as Marinette struggled to reboot her mind, pulling the conversation away from chaos “Just let her get akumatized?” 

They nodded, Adrian taking over again, “M’Lady, Chloe and I decided that that could work in our favor and we could just draw him and Mayra out and take back the miraculous they had stolen” 

“Of course,” Marinette sighed, coming out of her stupor, “We weren’t expecting it to be right after such a hard Akuma, or for her powers to be just as devastating. Luckily she gave the miraculous to different users so Hawkmoth was none the wiser about each of your identities. After her staged meltdown at me, Chat went to check on her and offered to let her build a new Bee hero as we had retrieved that miraculous. With a quick illusion from the fox miraculous a month after Abeille hit the scene, we have video evidence of those two making peace with the Bee changing hands, and Chloe wishing Abeille luck even if she could no longer be Queen Bee.” 

“Impressive Strategy,” Kagami hummed, “I believe if Lover Eater and Miraculous Queen hadn’t been such unusually hard foes to fight then you could have won. It was unfortunate that the circumstances were such.” 

“It sounds like you overlooked some variables in your plan,” Bruce hummed, “but overall it sounded like a decent plan for having only been fighting for a little under a half a year at that point if you were expecting the usual level of difficulty with the Akuma before Chloe instead of a much tougher opponent like the one you faced.” 

Marinette smiled, “It was a mess in practice,” She admitted with a small smile, “But it made it clear that even if Chat and I could use multiple miraculous for short periods, we couldn’t continue any longer without help, not to mention the previous guardian was lost.” 

“Lost!” Max yelped, paling drastically, “I was under the impression that the miraculous cure brought back any fatalities that are caused by miraculous related events. How did it fail on the guardian?” 

“Not like that, I’m sure, Master Max,” Alfred broke in, “Duusu explained once that the guardians have a… failsafe, if you will, to prevent the identities of the holders from being found out through them.” 

Marinette nodded, eyes growing distance, “He resigned as he guardian handing it over to me. Doing so the magic of the miraculous wiped their very existence from his memory. He didn’t even know that the turtle bracelet he wore was magical let alone know the secrets the miraculous held any longer.” 

The room grew cold as the teens' faces fell. The Bat’s grimaced as they looked around the room, knowing the uncertainty that was coursing through all of them 

Marinette shook her head, “It doesn’t matter, he’s enjoying life with an old flame he had to abandon to take care of guardian business, but that does bring me to the next thing we have to do.” 

Chloe smirked widely, “Got an extra on you then?” 

“No, We’re just going to loan them for a few minutes” 

“Seeing an Akuma or amok isn’t a skill that is inherent, it’s how so many people don’t realize someone is possessed until they transform,” Adrian explained, “Took us a while to realize why some people could see the butterflies and feathers and others couldn’t.” 

“There are four ways you can see an Akuma that we have observed,” Max took over, “The first is if you are the intended target of the Akuma, next is if you’ve already been akumatized, we all thought that it was just PTSD of being akumatized, but their accuracy was more accurate then simply being observant would allow. Third and… most unsettling is those that parish during an Akuma battle and are brought back by the miraculous cure can view them.” 

Eyes snap to Marinette, who is looking at her hands with a bone-weary sadness that any hero can relate to. 

“You can raise the dead?” Jason asked, a little edge of unease in his voice. The bats knew he was thinking back to his own death, Tim reached out a hand to squeeze his knee. Being brought back to life wasn’t pleasant in their experience. 

“Yes,” She tells them, “All damage is repaired as if it never happened, that includes any death or injury that may happen during the fight. If I’m transformed I can also do some healing but it’s likely to knock me out quicker then I can heal something more serious than a broken rib unless I have an energy source to pull from.” 

“That’s fucked,” 

“Jason!” 

“Nah he’s right,” Marinette brushed off Damien’s growl, “but the last way you can see the akumas is the way we’re sticking with. Using a miraculous and the miraculous ability it possesses.” 

The Bats blinked at them but they glanced over to see the other Parisians already rising to their feet. 

“It’s about time for patrol anyways,” Chloe groaned, “It’s Adrian’s and Kagami’s night,” 

“It’s Friday and we’re already sleeping over,” Marinette hummed, “We could all head over to the training area and get this over with, then let you two go out while we train for a bit. I’m thinking miraculous swap drills.” 

“Should we suit up?” Bruce asked with a raised brow. 

“Would probably be a good idea,” She suggested, “It’s not far from here so no need to use Voyage to get there, we’ll just take the rooftops.” 

____________________________________________

An abandoned warehouse on the edge of the Seine, and the Paris team entered with an air of happiness, as the Bat’s took in the space. Half of the floor empty for sparing, while the other half appeared to be made into an obstacle course.  Old couches and chairs were grouped between the two zones, most likely placed there for breaks in training.   

“Not bad,” Dick commented as he looked around, “So how are we doing this?” 

“I’m keeping the earrings, but you guys will each try one of the other miraculous” 

“I call the Cat!” Jason yelled before Marinette finished, causing Dick to pout.

“No fair! Selina likes me best!”

“No way circus boy!”

“Selina,” Bruce cuts in, “Likes me best, that’s why we’re engaged. These aren’t toys, stop arguing over them.” 

“It’s alright,” Adrian laughed as he removed his ring, “We were the same way when M’lady first suggested training with each other’s miraculous. They can be exciting.”  

Tim was only half listening as around him the Paris team other than Marinette were pulling off their jewelry, numbers draining of color as they dropped down, except for one. 

“Kagami isn’t a true user.” He said offhandedly, as her burgundy refused to falter even as her number dropped to a still formidable 8. 

“What?” 

Longg glared at him, “Even if she was not blessed by my hand, she is still my chosen wielder and no less a worthy opponent for the corrupted holders, do not forget it.” 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” He offered, “Merely observing. Her number didn’t lose its color and dropped down to an 8 instead of a 12.” 

“What is a true user?” Kagami piped in, “and why are you aware of it?” 

“Short answer,” Plagg piped in taking his ring from Adrian, “Reincarnation is real and we blessed souls who are more linked to our aspects then anyone else in the world. Yadda Yadda…” 

Pollen smacked him upside of the head with her comb

“Hey!” 

“Someone had to do it since Tikki isn’t here,” She told him with a slight huff, “You forgot to mention that just because they have been blessed by us doesn’t mean that they’re going to be a good holder, nor does it mean that if they’re not blessed that they’re going to be a poor holder.” 

“Well duh!” He complained, “Kags is one of the best dragons we’ve had in the last millennium, and Mayra sucks at her role! I didn’t think I needed to mention it.” 

“It would probably help if Mayra was a true peacock instead of just a true holder,” Kaalki hummed. 

“Whatevas,” Plagg brushed off floating lazily over to Jason, “I want the zombie anyways.” 

“Rude,” Jason snarked but took the ring gently from the small cat, “How do I do this?” 

“Just put it on and say Plagg Claws Out,” 

Tim raised a brow as his brother put the miraculous on and his 10 bled from it’s usual rust to neon green, “Wait.” 

The room froze. 

Jason raised a brow, “What replacement?” 

“Take the ring off,” 

“Why?” 

“Your number…” He winced, still unused to mentioning the floating digits. 

Jason brushed right by it, “What did it jump up to a 15 like Marigold’s or something?”

“No… Just changed color. I really hope it’s not permanent.” 

Jason slid the ring off and the rust returned allowing the younger man to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“It go back?” Dick asked gently. 

“Yeah, back to the normal rusty red. Looks like the miraculous turn then user’s color to something associated with them,” He breathed, “Good, I was worried I’d be staring at neon green over Jay’s head forever.” 

“Hey!” Plagg snapped, crossing his tiny arms, “What’s wrong with green? It’s always been my color.” 

“It’s also the color of people suffering Larzath sickness,” 

The bats flinched and Jason held the ring with a grimace before slipping it back on, “Let’s get this over with then so I can go back to red, Plagg claws out!” 

The sickly green light overtook him and the number started to climb.

Finally, the number disappeared and Jason was left standing in clothes similar to his normal hero outfit but tweaked.

Everything he wore was now jet black, from his boots to his helmet, with neon green accenting his boots, fingernails that had grown out into long wicked looking claws and eyes. A thick black belt wrapped around his hips and hung behind him, flicking softly on its own accord and on top of his helmet the metal was shaped into delicate-looking cat ears. The silver baton attached to the small of his back, right over his leather jacket

Dick let out a low whistle.

“Impressive,” Damian muttered, “The transformation somehow made you look even stupider than normal, Todd.” 

“Like you can do better,” Jason countered, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “But also, holy shit I feel like I just got pumped full of caffeine and really want to test out what I can do.”  

“Transformation does that,” Kim snickered, “You get used to it after a while, but that’s why we brought you all here instead of letting you transform in the hotel.” 

“Wait until the others transform and we can give them a test run around the warehouse,” Marinette told him, before turning to the other, “Let’s get a move on boys,” 

Tim found himself moving towards Max, who was sliding on an extra set of glasses he had with him, no doubt his original ones.

“May I?” He asked earning a smile from the other boy. 

“Of course,” Max agreed, “Right Kaalki?” 

The tiny horse eyed him, “Famous and world renown in both identities, how could I say no? The transformation phrase is Kaalki, Full Gallop.” 

He nodded, turning to look back at his family. Xuppu while Damian was examining the dragon choker, asking questions of Longg and Kagami. He was surprised to see Bruce accepting the bee miraculous from Chloe however.

“The hair comb?” Dick laughed slightly, “Thought you’d go for the Pocket Watch, B.” 

His father sent him a bland look, “I don’t do blue.” 

The bats all cackled. 

“Super doesn’t have to know,” Dick teased, placing the circlet on his head, 10 glowing and shifting to a soft tan, “we can keep a secret.” 

“I don’t have a single son that I can trust not to tell the Boy Scout I was wearing his color if I took the rabbit,” He spoke evenly attaching the comb to the side of his cowl, his 11 flickering to a golden honey. 

“I’m hurt Father,” Damian said as he Hastened the choker around his throat, his 11 burning to a fiery red, “I would never willing talk to Superman.”

“You’d tell Jon,” 

“I never denied that fact, merely that I wouldn’t tell his father,” The youngest Wayne cheeked earning an eye roll from Bruce.

“Pollen, Buzz on,” 

The Bat suit changed more than jason’s, with the gloves and shin guards now coming to hard points stipped with yellow, and the cape was gone, replaced by large translucent wing fluttering restlessly. His cowl no longer came to the classic bat ear peaks, instead long thin antennae like fixtures replaced them and the white eyes changed to dark green compound eyes. Around his hips were his utility belt usually lay, the same bee themed top that Abeille wore was wrapped. 

“Alright we can all agree that the old man looks stupider then me right?” 

The Paris team eyes blew wide at insulting the Batman to his face but his sons just agreed easily earning an infamous batglare that they simply shrugged off. 

“I will send all of you home and bring Cass and Duke to assist instead,” 

“No you won’t,” Tim mocked as he slide the glasses on, repeating the transformation phrase he was told. Energy spiked within him too an ungodly level and at the same time pain seared through his head, knees buckling almost instantly under the pressure. 

“Are you alright?” Max yelped catching before he crumbled to the floor. 

Blinking rapidly the pain slowly faded to a low pounding right behind his eyes, Tim glanced up and froze. 

Bruce and Dick were on him almost instantly, pulling him to one of the couches to sit down, rapid fire assessment questions about how he was feeling, just like they did any time someone got hurt in field flying at him. Bruce all but pounded into them to never lie to these questions after Dick nearly fell into a coma his first year as Robin. Even when on auto pilot he could tell the truth to them. 

He vaguely heard “Changes in vision?” and simply nodded. 

“What changed, spots? Blurry? Colors weird? tunnel vision?” Bruce questioned softly, sliding the glasses down his nose to look into his eyes, but didn’t remove them.

“They’re gone,” 

“What’s gone?” 

Tim never let his eyes drift from above their heads. 

“The numbers, my numbers are gone.” 

____________________________________________

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[clumsyclifford]

don’t need money, don’t need sleep (just need your pretty face)

hi !!!!! some jalex fluff for you all :)

back when i was looking to start writing some jalex i requested prompts from my friends and @tirednotflirting gave me three from this list: 14, 23, and 82. sam i am sorry it took me so long to get this done (and that it’s not like, my best work or anything) but i am treating this like a prompt fic even though you never actually sent the prompt to my inbox so here it is as its own post. how exciting

title is from bottle and a beat by all time low god that song really did not deserve to be a b-side have i mentioned i love all time low?? was that evident?? anyway. onward

read it here on ao3

Jack yawns. “I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep, you dolt,” Alex says, although it’s dripping with fondness and he’s sure Jack can tell, even over Skype.

“No,” Jack says. “Talking to you.”

“We can talk tomorrow,” Alex says logically. “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Mm, that’s too long,” Jack says, and then yawns again. “Alex,” he says, stretching out the vowel, “I’m tired. ” He closes his eyes and buries his head on his pillow. The angle of his camera really should be unflattering, but Alex is so in love, and he misses falling asleep with Jack so much, that even getting to see his almost-asleep face is feeding a part of him.

“You want me to sing you something?” Alex asks. Jack smiles, or at least the visible half of his face does.

“Just tell me about your day,” he says. His voice is barely audible and his lips hardly move; he’s clearly just on the verge of falling asleep completely. Alex is concerned for his phone battery.

“I’ve told you about my day already,” he says.

“Tell me again. I like to hear your voice.”

They’re so ridiculous, Alex realizes. They are the shitty rom-com couples that people point at to say look how unrealistic that is. Nobody acts like that in real life. But Alex is happy with Jack, happier than he’s ever been, and he thinks that’s more than worth the cheesy tropes.

“Alright,” Alex says. He settles back against the hotel pillows. They’re too soft; if Jack were here he’d have a lot of choice words about that. Jack’s firm anti-soft-pillow stance has taken over their bed — all of their pillows are relatively unyielding. Yet another way that Jack has made himself a permanent fixture in Alex’s life. God, Alex loves him. “Well, I woke up at the hell hour of five in the morning, and then I tried to Google Maps my way to the radio station, which didn’t work, and I ended up kind of lost. So then I called Rian, because obviously I didn’t want Bryan to know I got lost, and Rian just laughed at me, and then together we figured it out — there are two places here with the same address, like, one is the radio station and the other is, like, a convenience store, so I don’t know what kind of planning went into that? Anyway, the radio promo stuff was fine, and then I went and got coffee and called my boyfriend, except he didn’t pick up because he was still asleep, and I should have probably known better than to try and call, so I left him a really cute message that I bet he still hasn’t listened to.”

Alex pauses, watches the screen. Jack’s breathing is even. He’s never been the kind of person who could fall asleep right away, but now must be an exception, or maybe he’s more tired than usual, because he’s already dropped off, and his phone is moving irregularly until it finally slips out of Jack’s grasp and the screen goes dark, face-down on the bed. Alex smiles. “And then I had a boring day and then I Skyped my boyfriend and he had the audacity to fall asleep while I was in the middle of talking to him,” he concludes. “And I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Jack doesn’t reply, so Alex resolves to remind him tomorrow. Maybe without calling him sweetheart, though. Jack doesn’t take kindly to nicknames unless they’re grossly unrealistic (sugarplum, and such).

For the moment, though, Alex listens to Jack breathe slowly, and then he hangs up the call, sets his phone aside, and pulls the covers over himself. Sleeping alone is one of Alex’s least favorite things, but he’s lulled to sleep by the promise of not having to do it again tomorrow night.

-

“Hi,” Jack breathes, throwing his arms around Alex’s neck. Alex gives a little, wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist and squeezing tight.

“Hi. I missed you.”

“I missed you,” Jack echoes. “More. Fuck, it’s good to hear your voice.”

Alex laughs. “You heard my voice yesterday.”

“Not like this,” Jack says, bringing his hands reverently to Alex’s throat like he wants to feel the way it moves when Alex talks. “It’s so much better in person.”

“That’s rude,” Alex says. “You listen to my voice on recordings all the time. Are you saying I’m worse on albums than I am live?”

“Whatever,” Jack says, drawing Alex into a kiss. He’s managed to suspiciously sidestep the question — Alex will have to interrogate him further later on —  but for now he just hugs Jack close. Yet another cheesy rom-com trope: kissing on the doorstep.

It makes Alex chuckle, so it might do it for Jack too. Alex pulls away. “They should make a Hallmark movie about us.”

“Fuck, I’d love that,” Jack says, grinning and stealing another kiss off Alex’s lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Hallmark movie, but I’d watch it if you were in it. Or if I was in it, honestly.”

“I don’t think they’d cast us as ourselves.” Their acting careers begin and end with the “Something’s Gotta Give” music video. “And I would want to be played by Jason Statham.”

“Jason Statham? Why the fuck?”

It had really just been the first name to come to mind, so Alex shrugs. “Handsome and British?”

Jack snorts. “I want to be played by Brad Pitt then.”

“What the fuck do you and Brad Pitt have in common?”

“Uh, excuse me? We’re both sexy and have cult followings.”

Alex laughs, loud. “Got me there.” It makes Jack smile indulgently, all pleased like he’d gotten precisely the reaction he’d wanted, and Alex loves him so much it threatens the break the seams holding his heart together and just flood him. It might already have done.

“Okay, it’s cold,” Jack says. “You’re letting all the fucking air in, you asshole.”

“You can’t be nice for more than one minute.” Alex edges past Jack into the house. It’s true they’re letting the cold night air inside, but if Jack’s going to be a shithead then two can play that game.

“It’s late and I’m tired,” Jack whines as they walk together to the bedroom. Alex drops his bag on the floor. He can unpack it later. Tomorrow, or the day after, or next week — definitely at some point. Maybe he can harass Jack into unpacking it for him. Bribe him with sexual favors or a fancy dinner or something.

“Babe, you’re preaching to the choir,” Alex says. He’s exhausted. Travel takes it out of him, and the prospect of curling up with Jack, cold feet pressed against calves under the warmth of the blanket, is so appealing it almost makes Alex cry. Putting on a silly affectation, he says, “Prepare the bed, monsieur, and I shall join you presently.”

“Ah, yes,” Jack says, rolling with it — because he’s the best and weirdest boyfriend ever, and so perfect for Alex — with an exaggerated bow. He jumps into bed, already pajama-clad in boxers and one of Alex’s shirts, kicking down the covers so they’re far back enough for Alex to slip underneath. In a French accent, he says, “Le bed is prepared, monsieur Gaskarth.”

“Merci,” Alex says, which is about the extent of his French knowledge. Carelessly discarding his travel clothes, he grabs a comfier shirt and pulls it on. Then he clambers into bed, Jack’s arm settling comfortably over his shoulders. Even more than their reunion hug/kiss/debate at the door, lying down with Jack in their bed at home restores in Alex a sense of peace that he only finds here. He wishes it existed in words instead of just feelings, but it doesn’t. Alex would know; he’s tried, hundreds of times, to write it down, has filled pages with efforts to find an adequate description, but there’s nothing like the feeling. Nothing like just being at home with Jack, redundant though that is.

(If it’s Jack, it’s home. But it’s nice to have a place where they can mutually agree to be at home with each other.)

“I missed this,” Jack murmurs, leaning his head onto Alex’s shoulder as Alex shifts to accommodate him. “Before you say it, I know you were only away for a day, but I can still miss it.”

“I was going to say I missed you too,” Alex says. “But now that you’ve mentioned it, Jack, come on. I was only gone for a day. Don’t get clingy.”

Jack bites Alex’s shoulder and Alex laughs. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

“I’m joking,” Jack adds, yawning.

Alex reaches across Jack’s lap to grab his hand. It’s a little awkward, holding Jack’s left hand with his own, but they make it work. “Okay. Tell me about your day. We didn’t talk all day because I was traveling.”

Jack hums. “Seriously, now?”

“I talked you to sleep last night,” Alex protests. “It’s only fair.”

“So you don’t even want to know about my day? You’re just going to fall asleep?”

Alex shakes his head as Jack straightens up in mock-indignance. “Come on,” he entreats Jack, shuffling lower to curl up against him. Jack’s not small in most ways, because he’s the tallest in the band, and his personality fills every room like a gas, reaching the corners no matter how far they are. But he’s so skinny, so many lean lines, that it should be more difficult to cuddle up to him. Still, Alex finds it surpassingly easy. He rests his head against Jack’s chest, immediately attuned to the steady beat of his heart. When the foundations of Alex’s world are crumbling to the ground, when he’s grasping at straws or gasping for air, he can always sink an anchor into Jack’s heartbeat.

Objectively, it’s just a ba-bump rhythm like any other, but it’s music to Alex, and music has always been his driving force.

“Fine,” Jack huffs, curling his fingers into the cotton of Alex’s shirt. Alex burrows into him, closing his eyes, sliding his legs between Jack’s under the covers and slinging one arm over Jack’s stomach. “But it wasn’t that exciting. Mostly I just waited for you to get home.” Yeah, right. Even Jack can’t sit around doing nothing for a full day. “I don’t know. I washed my dishes from yesterday. Listened to all of Enema start to finish. Called my mom. It wasn’t that eventful.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” Alex mumbles, feeling his lips buzz against fabric. “Proud of you for doing the dishes, though.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. It won’t happen again.”

Alex smiles, too tired to laugh. “Sure.”

Jack is gently rubbing his knuckles against Alex’s back. “That was it. Not a lot to report, I told you.” “How’s your mom?”

“Good. She asked about you.”

“Oh? What did you say?”

“That you went dark side and became a drug dealer.” Alex snorts. “She took it well, of course. Told me she always knew you were a drug dealer inside and that she was glad you were living your truth.”

“She did not say that.”

“I am one hundred percent serious, I can call her right now and ask.”

If Alex weren’t so worn out, he’d keep up the banter, but he’s pretty sure neither of them are up for it at the moment, so he lets it drop. For a few minutes, they sink into an easy quiet. Alex sighs, content. His soul has stopped its restless search for comfort, now that he’s home, now that they’re reunited, and the calm washing over him is stronger than a sedative. “Mm, I’m so tired,” he says, mouth barely moving. “Wanna sleep.”

“I’ve been tired for, like, twenty-four hours,” Jack says. “Go to sleep. I’m right there with you.” He drops a kiss onto the top of Alex’s head, knuckles still tracing their pattern just under Alex’s shoulder blades, a sweet soporific lulling Alex to the edges of consciousness. He wants to kiss Jack goodnight, but he doesn’t have the energy to move. As it is, he’s pretty sure he’s already drifted off.

“G’night,” he remembers to say.

Jack drums his fingertips over Alex’s back, and even though Alex can’t see him, he knows Jack is smiling. “‘Night. Love you.”

Fuck, that’s what he’d forgotten. “Love you,” Alex exhales with the last of his waking energy, and falls asleep after that, with no reason left not to.

(He would say I’m happy to be home, but he’s already said it with love you, and he knows that Jack knows.)

[heartless-error]

Broken, not perfect, but together. - Chapter 3

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

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

Rating: General, family feels, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, running away

Other(s) links: AO3

Broken.

The Batfamily was broken.

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

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

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

Chapter 3

 Now

 A jolt woke him up.

 A jolt followed by a hard squeeze on his hip and an intelligible whisper beside him.

 It’s not as if Damian had expected to sleep well tonight, he even didn’t expect to sleep at all. When they arrived at the apartment, he was ready to spend all night staring at the ceiling quiet and trying not to think too much. However, he underestimated how tired he was and how much his wounded body needed to rest, so he was fallen asleep before realizing it.

But even if he didn’t want much rest, waking up agitated and listening sobs behind him wasn’t a good way to start the day.

 “Jonathan.” He said fully awake and shaking from his grasp. “Nightmare.”

 The super was still holding him tightly, carelessly and causing Damian grumbled for the treatment to his injuries, while the other was breathing restless and mumbling apologies in dreams.

 “Nightmare.” He repeated aloud. “It’s a nightmare. Wake up.”

 It’s neither the first nor the last time any of them have an unpleasant dream and awakes the other. Indeed, it would be very sad to admit it willingly but is also part of their lives and work so far, nightmares come hand in hand with superheroes’ duty and they had worse episodes than this in the past, like everyone else, right? That’s why Damian didn’t want to sleep, he knew something like this would happen again.

 He didn’t get rid of his embrace but could barely turned around to shake his shoulder and wake him up as the other seemed to hesitate in his dreams, not cheerful at all.

 “Jon!”

 Panting hard and trembling, Jon finally opened his eyes, yet some sleepy and groggy, shrugging himself and looking around nervously as he woke up completely.

 “Dami?” He asked in a whisper and still clinging around him tightly, as if he couldn’t believe he was talking to him.

 “You were dreaming.” He explained hastily still squirming in his grip.

 Jonathan fell silent a few seconds, tears about to fall, frowning, sweating and taking his breath back. He calmed down a bit and was apparently back in the real world, assimilating it was a nightmare, but  didn’t make him feel better seemingly.

With a miserable expression on his face, he realized how strong he was clinging to Damian and how he was trying to free himself, letting him go immediately and away from him as if he were on fire.

 “I’m sorry.” Jon said quickly as he sat on the mattress, rubbing his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry, you okay? It was not my intention, sorry.”

 Damian shook his head, looking at him from his position without moving. It wasn’t nothing important, Jon just squeezed him a little like a plushie and was a bit annoying, maybe his bruises were worst, but were minor wounds first so he didn’t care at all.

But he knew Jon cares, and looking at him away, shuddering and breathing deeply to relax, gave him enough proofs to know whatever he had dreamed about had shook him to the point to sobbing in his sleep, and add to that an apparent guilt for unintentionally hurting him didn’t help at all.

 Sometimes nightmares shake Jon like that, leaves him emotional, overloaded and saturated with everything, and Damian hadn’t come to establish a way to help him cope with it yet. Because there were other variables to consider, such as the mood, date, time or the type of nightmare, and none of them appeared to be favorable now.

 But if Damian knows something, is that he hates to see Jon cry. He hated it since he was 13 and still do strongly. Jon crying gives him a rare, visceral and unpleasant sensation on his chest that seems to pull it from inside, willing to rip him. He couldn’t stand it.

When they were kids, he thought it was because he despised how someone powerful and strong as Superboy, with such potential, could show much weakness and so openly. Then, he realized it was precisely the opposite, that what he really hated was how he felt when Jon seemed to trust him so easily to be vulnerable around him. That left him scared, hesitant and unsure just by having a friend, a real friend, who didn’t think he was going to stab him at any moment -something that neither him was sure in those times-. But sometimes he was also jealous, because Jon felt safe and confident enough to express himself and being weak in front of anyone, and Damian… never had that before, until then, he only had the strong statement that he would be killed and replaced if he showed any weakness or proof of not being a worthy heir.

 “Habibi.” He called his attention, waiting his hesitant look to lie sideways on the bed and extend his right arm on the pillow, in a clear invitation.

 Jon seriously seemed to doubt it, quiet and evaluating the situation, as if he would hurt him only by lying there together. Damian snorted at him angrily, scolding him with his eyes until Jon realized how stupid he was and gave up, lying back and resting his head on his arm as he embraced him completely and buried his face in his neck.

 Even if he still didn’t know exactly how to help Jon when he had nightmares, he knew that physical contact helps when it happens. And even though Kent was the most tactile and affectionally open in their relationship, at least Damian now was more used to receive affection and answer to it. Actually, it’s one of the few things that Grayson did right for once.

 He felt how the tension in his mate’s body disappeared as they spent more time in that position, quiet and enjoying other’s touch, trying not to break the momentarily peace. After a while Jon no longer looked like he was going to cry imminently and relaxed as he caressed his free hand down his back, slowly drawing patterns. But, of course, Damian knew the exact moment he would speak to say something stupid when he felt him getting some air.

 “Don’t apologize again.” He cut him off quickly. “You didn’t hurt me, so drop it.”

 He would not let him think about it too much, because he knew how easy it was to do that after waking up sobbing.

 “You know it’s not only for that.” Said Jon seriously and outrage in his tone.

 Damian froze, his hand still on his back and his arm starting to get numb cause of the weight on it. He tried to pull away to look at Jon, but he sank more into his neck, hiding from scrutiny, as if he feared his reaction.

He should have known, the apologies now made sense.

 He sighed, not really knowing what to say or what to do.

 “Then, do you think I should also apologize?” He asked, doubtful.

 That’s what made Jon move and look at him with alarm in his eyes, surprised and with a questioning expression. It’s not as if Damian hadn’t improved in giving encouragement or comfort to people in general, but this was a special case, and both knew they needed a different approach to be reasonable.

 “No.” Jon said angrily, like what he was saying was crazy.

 “And why you did? What’s the difference?”

 Jon stayed quiet, his lips in a fine line and blinking, in conflict. His reasoning had fallen completely, and he was obviously trying to save it, but it was useless.

It’s so simple, if Jon didn’t think that Damian had to apologize, then Jon didn’t have to. Easy.

 “B-Because I-” He started to stammer, willing to discuss.

 “No.” He cut him off.

 “But I-”

 “No.” He cut him off again, tilting his weight over him gradually.

 “But it’s my fault that-”

 “No.” He repeated freeing his arms and laying above him completely, crushing him with his weight.

 “I gave them-”

 “Stop.” He ordered covering his mouth with one hand.

 “Mnph!”

 “I said stop.”

 “…”

 “You know, I don’t care if you lick and drool on my hand, you’ve licked me other things.”

 The answer to that was a strong bite. He complained, putting his hand away in disgust, then looked at him raising an eyebrow as Jon just glared back with a defiant stance despite the embarrassed blush on his face. Then, Damian looked at his drooled hand and decided to clean it in the best place: Jon’s face.

 “Argh! Gross!” Jon shriek squirming beneath him as he rubbed his hand where he could reach. It was known that Jon could lift him and ran away without effort, but no longer worth it, Damian was too fast and saliva has returned to its birthplace.

 “You started it.” He declared at the end and looking at him seriously, as if it were a serious matter instead of… Drool. “And that’s you get for thinking too much.”

 The last statement made Jon sigh and give him that resigned expression that seemed to say, “I did it, right?”, to which he nodded.

As he thought at the beginning, it was easy to sink into the negative thoughts once you have awakened from a nightmare induced by guilt. He would also done that if Jon hadn’t appeared back in the cave, right in time to distract him.

 And it’s not as if they could say directly to each other that was not their fault and that’s it. It was, they know, and this isn’t work that way. They couldn’t get up one morning and be free of any impact or repercussion of what they had caused indirectly around them with their decisions, because they were very aware of them every day.

 But they also knew not all was their fault. There was more than one player in the game, and they were not the main ones.

It’s easy to think otherwise in the worst moments while you hear the accusations of your head, but once you stop to think about it and there’s someone to lift you up hitting with a pillow or drooling in your hand, you keep going and realize it doesn’t have to be like that, you shouldn’t have to apologize for everything.

 Sitting up, Jon lifted his arms around his neck to make him lean and kiss him firmly, what he didn’t hesitate to correspond. He knew it was his way to say thanks for calm him; So, when they separated, he just smiled with a shrug. Damian knew Jon would have done the same for him, he would say that, but the affection in Jon’s look was replaced by fun, and he couldn’t react in time to escape.

 “No! Argh!” He cried as Jon hold him and began to lick his face as revenge. “You’re disgusting! Stop!”

 Jon just laughed out loud as he kept doing it while Damian tried his best to get away. He swears that his boyfriend sometimes is like a dog, it’s like having Titus with him again. And he’s not laughing too, no, not at all.

 And in that room, lighted by the early morning sun, while laughs and tenders’ complaints were heard, both knew that no matter what they or anyone else thought. No one could really apologize and take the full blame for what happened six years ago, not matter what role they played, it’s not going to change anything and nobody needs it, not that.

 After all, Tim and Jason ran away willingly.

 ~ 0.0 ~

 That fact remained and was repeated in Damian’s mind as he lit the coffee pot and leaned on the kitchen counter, waiting.

 It was half past nine, he still had his hair wet because of the shower minutes ago, his body protested less than yesterday, Jon was taking a shower too, he needed a coffee, to make breakfast and instead he was looking at the calendar absently as he remember.

 He just does that, remember. Not wanting to think too much, because he had a lot of that lately.

 It had been six years since the day Damian came back to the manor and went down to the cave to find Red Robin and Red Hood’s uniforms bent at the Batcomputer counter with a paper note and didn’t know how to feel.

 Today he still doesn’t know how to feel, being honest.

 “Goodbye.” The note said.

 Just that. Nothing more. Nothing on the back, or written in invisible ink, no codes, no signs anywhere. Nothing. Only a paper with “Goodbye” written on it and over their suits.

 And as he sat in the chair in front of the keyboard and watched the scene in silence, Dick and Bruce’s could be heard arguing in the background, angrily and their screams resounded in the cave strongly; Cass wasn't even there, but she would stare at everything in silence if she was, Stephanie was probably crying on a corner somewhere, and Alfred nowhere to be found.

The argument between the other two confirmed that nobody had more news than that, all safes houses were empty, no image/video/audio useful for Oracle and even Kon or Clark couldn’t hear them, indeed, any available meta couldn’t.

 They said goodbye and ran away. Just like that.

 And sitting there, staring at the fucking paper they left and reading it non-stop, Damian realized it was true, they were gone. His mind seemed to fit in suddenly that it was true and definitive, they were gone for real, and that hit him with so much force that he felt a part of him broke and fall, causing him started to panic just like his family around him trying to find them.

 But they didn’t.

 There was nothing, nothing, not a minimal detail to hold onto. They had made sure to cover their tracks very well, even the smallest detail, there was not a single clue and, what did they expect to find anyway? Todd was hiding for everyone during years before making his debut as Red Hood and Drake was one of the most valuable assets within technology and intelligence, both had money, contacts, skills, and the most important: reasons to leave.

 Drake and Todd’s relationship with the family was very unstable at those times, even dangerous. So, when father found the costumes and the note, he activated all alarms because there was no way it was a joke.

 Useless, obviously, they would be already far away by then. And six years later they have still not been found and making Damian look absently at a calendar with pictures of bunnies in it while thinking he didn’t want to buy it but he had to because “we had the puppies one last year Dami, now it’s my turn to choose.”

 That and, it would be better if they were dead?

 A part of him feels horrible, filthy, despicable only by thinking that. But another, one that sounds like his 10 years old self, says, “it would be?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Because death was one thing that all the family already knew, with which they were already familiar and whose pain had experienced and overcome with time. Something they had witnessed and suffer so often that much to destroy them at the moment, at least they know how to get up and keep moving.

 But a disappearance? Voluntarily?

 That was something else.

 At least death mean that they wouldn’t be there never again -supposedly-, that they were gone forever and that’s it, there was nothing else. They didn’t have to look for clues or ask metas if they can find them. And if they had died, they would fight until their last breath, clinging to life without wanting to leave, he knows.

But leaving a note and running away together is the opposite, it’s worst. At least if it had been a disappearance against his will they would be equally worried, but would have found them eventually, they would have done so. And surely, they would have known they wanted to be home.

 But it wasn’t and that’s the problem.

 What kind of person he was that sometimes he might wish that his brothers were killed or kidnapped instead of being abandoning him?

 Not a very good one, for sure.

 But he can’t help it because the situation changes so much. Being dead they couldn’t do nothing or going anywhere, but running away and without backup they could meet so many unpleasant and dangerous possibilities; And the fact that they had planned to do everything on their own meant so much things too, and some of them were so, so painful.

As they sought clues and the years passed in blank, they couldn’t help but wonder more and insistently what they’re doing, where they are, or most important, if they are alive.

 And if they are, are they happy?

 That’s the only thing that makes a little bearable the idea they’re gone. Because if they are, whether they are happy wherever they live, whatever they do, then Damian could make peace with them, with himself and with the fact that they defected and abandoned everything and everyone for that purpose.

If they are, he may believe it worth it, even if in the process they have made it seem as if their lives here, their family, their friends and their identities didn’t matter enough to run away without hesitation.

 As if he didn’t matter enough.

 The coffee finished behind him and he sighed, giving one last look at the calendar when he turned around to reach a cup and serve.

 “You want some?” He asked at the other person in the room.

 “No, thanks. I’m fine.” Kon said from the kitchen door, looking at him.

 He knew he was there for quite a while, watching him. Moreover, he knew he was already awake when he had entered the kitchen, but he chose to ignore him completely.

 Damian leaned back on the counter again, this time with a hot cup of coffee in his hands and looked at his guest. Kon hadn’t change much over the years, he was now an adult, but right now was disheveled, sleepy and his clothes rumpled by sleep on his couch, so he didn’t impose respect.

 To be fair, he never imposed him any respect, but now their relationship was more cordial and pacific than before, he’s dating his little brother after all.

 “Did you have fun in Zodome?” Conner said with irony and repressing a grin.

 And, even so, he still was an annoying jerk.

 “Yeah, how about you in the farm?” He asked back.

 Conner’s expression soured a little, but enough to consider it a victory.

 “Cool.” He lied. “I’m glad to see you can finally reach the cups.”

 “I’m glad to see you sleep well. How many times did you fall to the ground tonight?” Damian asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

 This time Conner just laughed, shook his head and then gave him that look of fondness/nostalgia that he wasn’t want to locate, because that’s the one he used to give him since he tried to be intimidating during the shovel talk (which didn’t work at all)  when he did things official with Jonathan and they started to get better.

However, that look soon turned into a serious one, matching with a tic in his leg and a cautious posture. It seemed that Kon wanted to say something, something important, and didn’t know how or where to start, so he was there trying to establish a plan of action that will surely lead them to an uncomfortable conversation or an argument. And supers really don’t know how to act when they want something, right? Damian just hoped to drink his coffee quietly while Kon learns how to be subtle for once in his life.

 “Your brother is taking a shower right now.” He told him after another sip of coffee. “I’m making breakfast, do you want anything?”

 “I want a lot of things.” He answered thoughtfully. “But right now, I want to know why my little brother seems to suffer and blame himself more than me every year. And he’s not the only one.”

 Subtlety.

 Something that Conner Kent doesn’t have at all.

 Damian took a few seconds to recover himself from the verbal punch that the other had thrown at him so sincerely and frankly, analyzing what he said and then carefully placing a mask of complete indifference on him. He just pretended to be interested in keep drinking his coffee as if he didn’t hear anything.

His first instinct might have been to attack, saying he didn’t know what he was talking about or better to ask Jon when he got out of the shower, but it wasn’t the wisest choice and he knew it. Not when Kon-El was serious and focused, a lot, judging by the sententious look he had.

 “What are you two hiding, Damian?” The he asked, and despite the heavy silence that had settled between them, he approached slowly to him until he was right in front, looking into his eyes and firm as ever. “Because I know you are hiding something, and it’s related to all of this.”

 His blood was frozen, the coffee was stiff in his hands and he was using all his effort and strength to keep up the apathetic façade and his heart to a normal rhythm.

 “I wanted to ask Jon back in Kansas, but I had no chance.” Kon explained, looking at him harshly. “Six years is a long time, and you have to understand I can’t wait anymore.”

 The stern gaze wavered for a moment as saying the last, making Damian glimpsed the pain and grief shining in the eyes that now kept him on the place and made him try to appear calm.

It wasn’t easy for Damian to be aware that he was not the only person that Tim and Jason chose to leave behind, and this situation didn’t help.

 “I wasn’t the detective of my team.” Kon said then, his miserable expression making his way ever faster. “But I know when Jon lie. And I know this is how you react when you want to hide something, because Tim told me.”

 His world was punched again, causing the façade to crack a little. This is not okay, no, no, this is not okay at all. He didn’t expect a confrontation, not now, not here, not this way.

He pressed the cup between his hands without looking away, valuing his options, not letting his emotions cloud his judgment.

 “Damian.” Kon called him reproachfully, yet gently, like a parent scolding a child even though they were almost the same height, like another big brother. “What did you do? What are you afraid of?”

 These questions almost made him drop the coffee. Because the answers were so many, so many and shaking his mind, appearing, turning and repeating loudly within him. Reminding him his conflicts and starting to think too much, again.

And Kon, Tim’s best friend, Jon’s brother, looked at him so dejected yet so hopeful of being able to know something that the ability to tell the truth no matter what he know or suspect, or anything in respect, died there.

 He was going to attack, attack and retreat. Being sure not to see him again, or not to go near him until he was sure what are his suspicions exactly and how far did he go.

But a sound between them interrupted and dispelled the growing tension in a moment, making them to look at the source of the sound with surprise. Conner’s pocket, his phone.

 Damian could relax a minimum when Kon finally turned his attention away from him and gave him some space to answer the call, some unexpected judging by the uneasy expression of him.

He was drinking his coffee again and clearing his mind to appear normal and leave the situation when Kon answered, stood still, blinked and then handed him the phone.

 “Is for you.” He said.

 Damian frowned and looked at the phone, undecided. He had left his in the bag he had brought from the manor and was off because he knew would get a lot of calls from Grayson playing to be a good brother -what a liar-.

But he thought that if they had come to investigate who might be with him, then call Kon-El and make him pass the phone to him, it’s because it had to be important. So, he left the coffee aside and answered.

 “Come back to the manor. Now.” Barbara’s voice said. No Oracle, Barbara. “We’ve found something.”

[batbootie]

My hands on your hearts -chap.2

Damian was bored. Out of his mind, left counting the holes on the ceiling, that bored students like him did with a ruler and an ink refill. Boredom was recurrent whenever he is at school, because no one can match his intelligence, even the teachers. The most of them can’t even resolve a three-degree equation without the help of a calculator.  He was raised since birth to rule, and he will be going to inherit the leadership of Wayne enterprises anyway, so there is no need for him to learn anymore. And to go to school for that matter. Really, what kind of school has no adaptation program for children who clearly are way superior then the average student?

But today, his boredom was reaching new heights. If boredom even has a level. Economy class was a, as Jason so colourfully puts it, pain in the left nut, because he already knew everything on the subject of the horizontal division of work from Adam Smith and its consequences on the society, but the teacher decided that, even though his grades showed that he clearly had the level of a university student, he should stay in class to try and socialise with the others.

Clearly, M. Judas had a chat with Father or Grayson. Traitor.  So, Damian was left glaring at the clock or at the teacher, urging for the class to end so that everybody, mainly him, could get on with their lives. He had started drawing a while ago, but even his imagination was bored. He couldn’t even get inspired by his surroundings, because school was boring even his imagination. He had drawn all his classmates, and his sketches were all about school, complete blueprints of the building’s structure and how many escapes routes existed. It was so uninteresting that despite the correctness of the sketch and the ideas for escape, Mother would be ashamed to see that his child was incapable to stay focused for more than 10 minutes or that he was not murdering them for boring him to death.

Sighing, Damian let his pencil roll out of his hand, wishing that he was anywhere but here, or that something interesting would happen in the course of the next three minutes. If nothing occurred in this time lapse, then he would come up with a shitty excuse, like a Father had a ski accident kind of lame excuse, even though that one was getting old, and go straight back to the Manor, to continue his work on the drug shipment case or search an idea for a gift, to offer at Jason’s birthday.

He already had everything planned for Grayson’s. For Drake, on the other hand, it clearly was a challenge. Because he knew next to nothing about Drake, except that he considered sleep like a distraction and that he’s a genius. But Damian was trying to make amend for some time now, and the only way to show Drake that he meant what he said back then. Back when he realised that he had grown to love his brother and that trying to murder his adopted brother was not how he would be accepted by Father or the entire family, even Cass disapproved his behaviour, or even a way to show love. But because Drake was a mastermind, he wouldn’t believe a word Damian said as an apology. So showing through actions, kind gestures was the plan. And what best opportunity is it then a birthday gift?

Even Grayson didn’t know about his change of heart. If he did, Damian wouldn’t have lived that down and Drake would’ve suspected something fishy. And he would lose all kind of credibility to make amend.

Hearing a forced cough, Damian came back to the sombre reality, realising that he was still in the classroom, and that the three minutes were up. Leaning to the side, he was ready to snatch his backpack and leave this smelly room full of goons in a matter of seconds when M. Judas decided to use this very moment to stand in front of the class and start speaking with a stern voice, eyeing carefully every student and quirking an eyebrow at Damian, clearly seeing that he had no intention whatsoever to stay.

“Okay everyone! I know some of you are impatient to leave for your Geometry class, but before the hour is up and I give you homework, I have some announcements to make. First of all, there was a change in the school policy, thanks to a reorganisation on the teacher’s level. As some of you may know, some teachers overlooked the actions of bullies, rich ones particularly, deciding to turn a blind eye and let things happen. But not anymore. You need to know that this is unacceptable, and will be punished, should you be a perpetrator or only a bystander. If anything of this nature occurs, I want to be informed, because if I don’t know anything, then I won’t be able to help you. Is that understood?”

The class hummed a half-hearted affirmation, some students clearly not believing that this new policy would change anything and deciding to continue their little games of pushing around the weaker students. Damian rolled his eyes, because really? This decision came from a good intention, but any students that would decide to take the teachers upon their offer will end up ostracised, being an even bigger target.

“Secondly, there’s a new student coming in today.”

The silence in the classroom was broken, the students starting to buzz with energy, eager to meet a new classmate -or a new victim, depending on the person-. Murmurs spread, questioning on the new student’s identity. Damian perked his head up in interest, letting his backpack fall to the floor and leaning in, something finally happening that would maybe enlighten his day. The teacher decided to open the door and stretched his neck in the corridor, calling and motioning for someone to come in.

The tension was palpable, like lions getting ready for the innocent lamb that would inevitably be thrown in. Finally, a hunched form made its way to the front, hiding behind the teacher’s back, the hoodie on its head and completely drenched in rainwater. M. Judas turned around as they came to a stop on their way to the teacher’s desk and whispered something to the new student, probably trying to encourage them and reassure them that nothing bad is going to happen. As if he can protect them from it, heh. He then stepped aside and let the class take the new student in.

Freckles. And scared. Those two elements jump in front of Damian’s mind as he takes the appearance of the new student, a girl, or a boy? They look androgynous. The next ten seconds are spent in silence, as the student shuffles with their hoodie, trying to hide their nervousness. A big breath, and they finally speak, catching everybody off guard by pushing off their hoodie. “Hello. My name is Isaac. I’m fourteen, like the most of you. I transferred here because my family had a job offer in Gotham and now I see why it was so well payed. I hope that we will understand each other and get along well. I am pleased to meet you.”

His voice. He is fourteen, but his voice has already cracked and is in a lower tune then the teacher’s. Damian is puzzled. His stance clearly shows that he is near a panic attack, ready to bolt out of the classroom should anything go wrong, but his voice is perfectly controlled. No wavering because of the nervousness, just a low tone hitting all the notes, in a perfect rhythm. The class is mesmerized, everybody’s jaws is on the floor –the teacher and Damian alike-  looking at what seems like the perfect embodiment of the absolute pitch, even being slightly awkward.  

With that, the boy, Isaac, his name’s Isaac, blushes furiously and quickly goes to his seat, to only stand awkwardly in the alley when he realises that he has none. “Hum… M. Judas? Where should I sit?”

The teacher shakes himself after being asked that question, but can only motion to an empty area near the window, next to Damian, with an incoherent gibberish. Clearly, if the teacher had all his brain cells functioning normally, he would’ve put Isaac at the extreme opposite, but no, Damian is stuck with Isaac for the rest of the year.

Damian shrugs himself out of the magic Isaac’s voice induced. Furious, verging to kill and hide the body kind of anger, without crossing that line in reality (really), he felt attacked by the teacher to consider him appropriate for the new student to sit beside him. Even if Isaac is a new kid, it doesn’t mean that he, Damian Al Ghul Wayne, has to give up the privilege of sitting alone and not have to be annoyed by unnecessary gossip other students love to share. Sitting down, Isaac looks Damian dead in the eye until Damian snaps, “What?” He just shrugs before looking down to his backpack, taking out a pen and a piece of paper before answering him, “Nothing, just don’t kill me.”

Don’t kill me? Why would I? Except getting on my nerves, I have no reason to legitimately kill you.

Damian quirked an eyebrow at Isaac, surprised by the last sentence, that had been said with gravity, absolutely no jokes in there. The tone was still controlled, like during his little speech in front of the class, but was tenser than before, if that was even possible. In fact, after Isaac had spoken, he avoided any eye contact with the Wayne sitting beside him, going to the extent to turn partially his back on him.

Perplexed, Damian shifted in his seat, to see Isaac flinch so slightly that without his training, he would’ve missed it. He taped his pencil on the side of the table and then on his sketchbook, observing Isaac for this experiment. For every sound, the boy moved, crocking his head to the side at the first tap before relaxing slightly after associating the sound with a pencil when he reproduced it on his own pencil case. Isaac was giving Damian his undivided attention, but without looking at him.

Damian’s eyebrow shot to his hairline when he realised that his new classmate was using a technique to get him to relax. With a behaviour that screamed ‘nothing to see, so not a threat here’ with his back turned on him, Isaac was exposing the back of his neck to Damian, in a sign of peace. He was trusting the Wayne not to kill him, like he asked. That kind of behaviour spoke to the animal that was walking alongside the rational part of the brain, sharing with each other the human skin. This gesture was like coming up to someone with the hands wide open, arms free, torso unprotected, but Damian wouldn’t have trusted such stance, because hands were as deadly as weapon. But how Isaac was sitting didn’t allow him to move quickly enough to make a move on Damian or to defend himself should Damian decide to attack. The power of decision was in the hand of the fifth Robin, even though Isaac was clearly following every of his movements, not being stupid enough to trust him on an intimate level.

Damian was intrigued. Clearly, Isaac thought that Damian was enough a threat that he should make clear on an instinctual basis that he wasn’t there to threaten him. So it meant that he was completely serious back then, when he asked not to kill him. He truly believed that Damian had already killed, and that he may consider him a threat and decide to eliminate him. But he wasn’t submitting to his strength, merely offering an olives branch. If he wanted acknowledge Damian’s ‘dominance’ and show that he was situating himself below him, then he would’ve exposed his throat and heart, making Damian’s life easier if he wanted to rip his throat out.  

They stayed like this for three minutes or more, in complete silence, Isaac still turning his back on Damian but assessing the threat he represented and Damian weighting the pros and cons. Finally, he sighed, “-Tt- I don’t kill, so there is no need to bare your neck and pray for the best. I’m not going to begin with such a low-life like you. You don’t even have a last name, Isaac.” Isaac’s back relaxed completely, his shoulders slopping down. He turned to Damian, still not looking at him in the eye, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. “Hey, I mean, you were going all Silence of the lambs on me, so you can’t blame a boy for trying his best to avoid a bloodshed, especially if he’s the one who’s going to end bolognesed. Man, red was all over the place. And it was buzzing like crazy, with the war tambours out.” He shuddered visibly, and scratched his ear, as if trying to get rid of an annoying sound. “Why were you angry?”

Damian scoffed, annoyed that he pinpointed that out, even through his mask of the annoyed but perfect student, and escaped the question “Red?”. He did not grasp completely why his new tablemate used the term red to describe the situation.

Isaac just shrugged, oblivious of the boy’s glare, “Yeah, red, like all over your hands and hair when you first looked at me.” Before Damian asked even further questions, he suddenly turned around to face the Wayne heir, as he calls himself. Isaac’s body was facing him, but he still didn’t look at him in the eye, instead tilting his head to the side to signify that he was listening to Damian’s move. He continued when he understood that Damian was staying dead silent on purpose, just to throw him off and make him forget about his initial question, “Right now, red is draped around your eyes and your mouth, and you’re just fucking with me.”

Before Damian could ask him the how and why Isaac could see something like colours around people, the new one just flat turned back on his chair and focused on the teacher, whispering a quick “Anyway, nice chat. I have to concentrate on the course because I don’t want to fall any further behind in Economics. Cool to meet you, Damian, even if I don’t know your last name.” And forgetting in a matter of seconds Damian’s existence.

The Wayne was left fuming, the deepest scowl on his face anybody in the school had ever seen, trying to untangle all the information Isaac let slip and trying also to cover his bruised ego at the other boy’s capacity to ignore him successfully, even when he was glaring holes in the back of his skull.  

First, rude. And second, how in the world can you NOT know me, you baboon? Did you live in a jar for the last 40 years to not know the Waynes?! We are worldly famous for Father’s shenanigans as Brucie (and the ones from his family, but let’s not dwell upon that). Isaac did not lie when he said that he did not know them, they were no signs of it. No muscles contraction, no dilated pupils, nothing. He was truly ignorant.

Even more perplexed, Damian resumed his doodling from before and began to chew on the mystery Isaac was beginning to become. The guy came from nowhere, was seeing colours in places that didn’t exist in this reality realm, had the behaviour of an animal in order to prevent any unfortunate dismemberment and finally was rude. That smelled trouble, in capital letters. Damian observed Isaac closely, and by the way he was crouched on his chair and listening to the teacher, he seemed like he couldn’t hurt a fly. But appearance could be really deceiving, so Damian decided to keep an eye on the new walking mystery for the sake of his sanity and to push away his boredom. He didn’t trust Isaac to not bring some crazy ass monsters straight from Allah knows where. Maybe it was his paranoia speaking, but anything new meant more than he liked something bad coming, and he wasn’t about to take any chances.

Economy class went without any incidents, but Isaac sent Damian a few glances in Philosophy class every time the teacher -this teacher got on Damian’s nerves more than others because of this attitude of considering that his words equalled God’s word and therefore should not be questioned- spewed some bullshit about artists being prostitutes, selling themselves through their artwork and desperately trying to lure people and get their attention, or started yelling at some students because they didn’t highlight in the right colour. And to be honest, his mood only worsened when he discovered that Isaac had decided to sit next to him for every class they had together, much to their classmates’ surprise (they expected –and for some of them, hoped- for a public execution at the second the economy class was over)

During lunch, he observed from afar, and could analyse the interactions Isaac had with some other students. He was clearly guarded around them, talking gladly with them, offering a smile, but anytime someone new approached or one made a grand gesture, he was immediately wary and tensed. He stared at every person when they were talking, clearly assessing their threat level, but avoided eye contact at any cost. He refused to look at them when talking to them, preferring to turn an ear to them or the discussion- much like he did with Damian at their first meeting-.

Surprisingly, even with bullies that only made contact to get a taste of a potential victim, he relaxed after a few seconds of interaction and didn’t pull the same stunt he did with Damian. Unsurprisingly enough, the behaviour of his classmates changed when the discussion came to colours he was seeing around people. Some of them were clearly uncomfortable, thinking that this poor dude had not all mugs on the shelf, as he showed them where the colour should be. But none of them asked what the position of the colour meant, and Isaac never offered an explanation.

School life and rules obliged, because Isaac was a bit out of the box as normal, and because of his apparition during the middle of the year, all added with his behaviour, he was quickly labelled freak, like Damian – though not with the mention dangerous, can dislocate a shoulder without blinking- and was left mostly alone. People came to talk to him about work he had to catch up with or just small talk, but beyond exchanging names or homework, everybody stayed away from him. Something set them off about Isaac. Meanwhile Damian ignored him in class, even when Isaac tried to talk to him about uninteresting matters, but watched him from afar during lunch, PE, basically every time he could, and took notes of anything weird on a villainous level.

But quickly, it became not enough. Damian’ paranoia was leaving him awake at night, wondering if this new boy was the calm before the storm, ready to shred them to pieces. He had to pierce this mystery, or he would end up with grey hair before his puberty.

The best strategy became clear: he would put Isaac under constant surveillance, at school and at home. He hacked the school servers to retrieve an address, learning Isaac’s last name: Menourem. There was no mention of any parents of any kind in Isaac’s file, just a sister, Elilian. He broke in during school hours, knowing that nobody would be there, Isaac’s sister working from 7am to 8pm every day and Isaac himself being at school. He bugged the whole apartment, placing cameras in every room – not forgetting the bathroom, even if he didn’t want to have the image of Isaac taking a shit on his camera feed-  and designed his patrol route so that he would pass on the rooftop in front of Isaac’s bedroom. He would then watch Isaac and his sister have a complete normal life.

His brothers picked up on his change of route and Father confronted him about it, but he quickly dismissed his worries, saying that he had saved someone during patrol and they had asked to keep an eye on them, scared that whatever monster attacked them would come back if Robin wasn’t there. And him being the white knight on the mighty horse that he was immediately agreed. He got teased for it, but it was better than having his brothers snoop around and have at the end to explain himself to them when they would see that he was stalking the perfect little civil Isaac was.

Himself thought that way too, but just to be sure, he stalked him even harder, going to the extent of mapping his whole movements, following him to his dance courses and taekwondo training for the whole week. The only one in the loop was Alfred, who merely arched an eyebrow when he got a call from Damian asking to be picked up near the sports club, in the pouring rain, to only respond that he was already on his way.

Pennyworth knew all along. Is he sentient? I know Father tested him for any mutant genes, but his deductive abilities are humanly impossible. He nearly resembles Sherlock Holmes, without the annoying doctor at his side.  

Disappointed that nothing crispy was going on, but reassured that it meant nothing dangerous would be dumped on them, he continued his nightly surveillance for about a week just to be sure, and ignored him at school.

But Isaac didn’t hear it that way. School went on his nerves, aggravated by the change of scenery and all of the new people, making fun him while his back was turned. So when he saw Damian not even casting a glance in his direction when he greeted him at the beginning of Philosophy class on Monday, he snapped. Slumping in his chair, he took out his notebook, angry, trying to reign his temper before he would explode. Damian, being the fine detective that he was, frowned at his tensed shoulders and the anger radiating from his persona, even with his breath controlled. Normally, everything should be fine, Isaac didn’t see his sister in the morning, because she normally left for work early as always but they shared a civil meal the evening before, Damian knew, because he was watching over them. Maybe in the bus, he was run over by an old lady and her rollator. The fifth Robin was perplex, but he didn’t really care if Isaac was angry, if it only meant that he would leave him alone.

The class began, the teacher spewing nonsense as always. Isaac waited for the teacher to start a rant about the Oedipus complex, and how much we are fucked up in our heads because we were part of a love triangle early in our lives, before turning partially to Damian and whisper-scream “Are you bloody bipolar?!”

Damian blinked, not really understanding why Isaac’s anger was directed at him and enjoying the slip in the most British accent he ever heard, aside from Pennyworth’s. Surely he left the new one alone, so why should he be angry? Avoiding as always eye contact, Isaac got the confirmation that Damian was not going to talk when the Wayne tapped his pen on his paper, and continued, getting even angrier, “I told you that I wasn’t a threat and that I wasn’t here to do you harm, so, here comes my question… WHY?!”

“-Tt- What are you talking about? I left you alo-”

“No, you didn’t! Watching me from afar in school, noting every strange behaviour – which, by the way, must be hard, because my face is next the definition of strange in the dictionary- is not leaving me alone. But school I understand, you want to have every bits of information about your new classmate. Won’t blame you for paranoia, in this city. What I don’t really understand is stalking me. Like, really?!! Following me home? Lurking on a rooftop, watching me in my bedroom like a bloody weirdo?!?!”

“Again, what are you talking about? Is that a new technique to try and get my attention? If it is, then take a ticket and wait in the line. I have other things to do then paying attention to an extra.”

“Really, Wayne? We’re going down this road? Okay, then how do you explain the boy I saw Wednesday evening, just in front of my window, with the same height, same body mass – I saw you jump in sports class and the sound of the landing was the same, so proof- and same shoe size than you? Hell, I can just do a DNA test on the hair I found when I went to check I wasn’t hallucinating. What will the results be? A 100% match maybe?!”

From annoyed, Damian went to deadly in matter of seconds. In a blink, his knife was drawn – which slipped Grayson’s thorough search and patting this morning, thank you very much- and the sharp end went to Isaac’s thumb and sliced. Blood pearled and Isaac withdrew his hand, hissing, more surprised by the location – he thought that Damian would’ve gone for the throat and ask question later- than in pain. Standing up, the Wayne boy took him by the arm and forcefully hauled him up, managing to get everybody’s attention. Turning to the teacher without letting go of his arm, he declared in a flat tone, “He cut himself on the edge of the table. I’ll show him the infirmary, because I don’t think anyone already has.”, and looking at Isaac, “Now come, you fool, I don’t want to have your DNA on my papers.”

Isaac snorted and murmured, “Like you don’t have some on your knife to test it...”

They exited the classroom together, with everybody’s eyebrow shooting up to their hairlines. They walked a few meters and left the main hallway, turning left to the administrator section, which was less frequented.

As soon as they disappeared in the hallway, Damian slammed Isaac against the wall, putting the knife against his throat. “What. Are. You. Talking. About.”, he hissed, blocking Isaac’s airways for a brief moment, to make him understand the precarious situation he was currently in. Isaac merely relaxed and sarcastically quirked an eyebrow, looking away from Damian’s face as soon as the fifth Robin came too close for comfort, “What am I talking about? Oh, I don’t know, how about you sweeping through my flat, putting bugs and cameras in every corner, invading my privacy and my sister’s?! See, when I spotted you, I wasn’t so sure, but honestly, Robin doesn’t just do surveillance from a window. He bugs you, inspect all your accounts, learns everything about your life. I’m also talking about you wearing a bloody neon costume, lurking at my window, watching ME! I would’ve been flattered if I wasn’t so pissed that I had to abstain from jerking off for two whole weeks!”

Damian must’ve made a face, because Isaac sighed and whispered, “TMI?”

The knife was pressing even harder, threatening once again Isaac’s blood vessels, and restricting his movements so, that if he tried to move, he would end up with the imprint of the blade in his flesh, making a smile like scar on his Adam’s apple. “How.”, was the only word he was able to get out of his gritted teeth, already hearing the shame and anger in Father’s voice when he would announce that he got busted by a classmate he stalked. Mother was screaming in his head to kill him and let the body be a feast for the fishes of Gotham City. Isaac’s stance relaxed even further, going as far as wrap his hands around Damian’s wrist to show them and leaning more comfortably against the wall. “Dude, you said you don’t kill. But I know for a fact that you did before- Robin is infamous like that-, so why not pull out the knife before anybody sees us. I am way too angry at you to hug you in order to hide this wonderfully made slicing object.”

“I am seriously reconsidering my no killing rule, so do not test my patience with witty banter. Answer. How?”

Isaac only smiled, a confident smile, “I can see your battle with your blood lust. Not killing is harder than you thought, but right now, red is not around your eyes, so you’re not losing your shit. Yeay, win. So you won’t kill me – or anyone for that matter- today. Applause.”

Again with the Red, Damian was lost. Isaac had seen perfectly what had happened in his mind and pinpointed that out with the use of a colour. The fifth Robin was getting suspicious that the colours had something to do with his revealed identity, even though it seemed clearly unbelievable. During his search in the Merounem’s apartment, he didn’t find any sign of magic or suspicious furniture, - Isaac’s sister only having weird taste in decoration-  which lead him to think that Isaac was indeed crazy. Clearly, he was wrong.

Seeing that Damian had no intention of moving any time soon, Isaac shrugged and tightened his grip on Damian’s wrist and pushed the knife a tiny bit away from his throat and tilted his head, eyeing the floor thoughtfully. He then looked at the ceiling, “I know. Follow me and I’ll explain how I knew it was you beneath the hoodie. And then you can take out all the bugs and cameras you put in our flat, before we go completely Ghostbusters and fry them.”

Damian was not trusting him, but after everything Isaac had said and done to signify that he wasn’t a threat, nor willing to be taken as one in the future, he decided that he was smart and trained enough to handle any unexpected situation. Pocketing his knife, he motioned for the new boy to lead the way, glaring at him for good measure. Much to his surprise, they exited the school by signing themselves out, using the skiing excuse for Damian and a cold for Isaac, and hit the streets. The walk went on without any sound from each other, Damian growing more and more curious and wary at Isaac, who was seemingly perfectly fine with leaving him in the dark. As they walked nearby a bakery, Damian finally recognised the neighbourhood – he took this route when following Isaac home, the first time he got out. - Knowing now where they were heading, Damian was only left wondering why. But when Isaac opened the door to his apartment, the truth slapped him in the face like Barbara did when he accidently tripped a wire and sent the nest on lockdown.

Colours. They were colours everywhere. The first time he came in, he didn’t pay attention to all the nuances on the walls and around the furniture, to busy searching for information. But now that he was invited, he could look up and take in all the undertones of beiges and whites of the living room and the ceiling, how the black of the piano on the corner and all smoky colours of the other instruments lying in different corners of the room brought out the sofa and the table near the kitchen area. It was like a wool sweater with a collared neck and décolleté that succeeded to underline elegantly the breasts of the wearer and her figure, giving it a respectable atmosphere and kind of homey. There were plants everywhere, with flowers popping out, in different colours and shapes. Damian, as an artist, was slapping himself for not seeing it the first time he came here. But it was understandable, because he came here as Robin in the skin of Damian, and not as the artist that popped in whenever he was safe and alone in his room, free to draw whatever he wanted.

Isaac laughed and Damian realised that he had been staring. Adverting his eyes as soon as the Wayne boy set his own on him, Isaac motioned with his hand to follow him further into the place. Picking up his jaw left on the floor, Damian followed him into his room, to be awestruck for a second time – bitch slapping himself for the second time today -. Like the living room, Isaac’s bedroom was all about nuances and glimpses of warm and cold colours in unexpected places. Brown and green were dominant, with the bed and the wooden table in warm brown, and the sheets and the three stripes on the wall to be a pine green, with blue pooping up on the walls with photos and some purple picking out from his underwear drawer. The room was lit up by the dull sun from Gotham, blocked by all of the pollution, and gave a peaceful atmosphere when Isaac stood in the middle. He looked surreal, and Damian only wanted to sit down and draw him, to capture this moment out of time, purely human and truly beautiful.

The moment was broken as Isaac reached out for his chair. Damian had it preciously stashed in his memory to try to recreate it later. But the moment turned from beauty to pure confusion as he watched Isaac frantically beginning to search through his desk drawers, pulling out papers and papers filled with crap – doodles of the philosophy professor, one of what he did not want to believe was a caricature of him with snots running down his nose- before coming to a sketchbook that wasn’t there when Damian searched the room. Pulling it out, Isaac sat down on the floor and looked up to Damian, only to advert his eyes when he met his. “I think you’re beginning to understand, but I’ll give you the final proof that will maybe the last nail to my coffin if you decide that I’m a threat and make me disappear form the face of Mother Earth. Without killing me, sure.” He then reached out his hand holding his sketchbook and gave it to Damian, who opened it, perplex of why Isaac was giving him his clearly most precious belonging, giving himself bare to the scrutiny of Damian’s mind.

Curious and more excited than he would admit, Damian opened it and refrained his desires to let his jaw fall to the floor –for the third time today, seriously honey, could it stop?!-  and to bolt at Isaac to kill him. In the sketchbook were drawings of him. Not just him as Damian, but also him as Robin. On the first page were two drawing, looking almost like pictures: His face as Damian, looking bored, probably drawn from a memory of History class, and his face as Robin, hood down and domino mask on. The shades and contours lines were put in the same places and the two drawing, minus the domino, looked identical. But the interesting part was the colour on it. His faces were done with a pencil, and the shades too. But droplets of colour were on it. As a civil, red was around his mouth and eyes, while as a vigilante, red was around his hair and ears. Red.

“You said you saw red the first time we met.”  

“Yeah, and it was around your hair and ears, like something bad was whispering to you, or just anger was showing through.”

“This is how you found out?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Thing is, those places are general for all people. If someone’s angry, then it’ll show like it showed on you, same places. But what gave it away was the colour. Everybody has a unique colour and that’s how I recognised you, Damian Wayne, as Robin. You were going all weirdo under my window, and if it wasn’t for the colour, I wouldn’t have spotted you. It’s pretty weird to recognise your table neighbour as one of the famous thigh clad vigilante, lurking in the dark like the roof top is your playground. Every colour has its nuances, and for you I used #eb1523, but around your stomach there’s another nuance, duller and sombre, almost like #70060d.” Damian took a short breath at the mention of his stomach, but Isaac continued, undaunted, “The colour of blood. That’s weird, ‘cause I’ve never seen something like this before.”

So it meant that Isaac was a mutant. No doubt. An a dangerous one for that matter.

“You’re a meta.” His voice was cold, weighing if yes or no he should tell Father about new metas roaming Gotham. One that could bust out his identity by one look.

Isaac tilted his head on the right side and smiled, “Naaa, not it this sense. When you recognise someone on the streets, I recognise a colour. Same difference, our brains are just not made the same. I’m no mutant with a radar, I just associate things differently than you do. But I don’t know why I see two colours on you. Maybe someone who left an impact on you… I dunno. ”

Isaac seemed content with his explication, and did not look curious as why another colour was lingering on his body. His stomach. The pain flared as he remembered his death by the hand of his mother, obscuring his vision. It had been the worst moment of his life (pun intended).

What had really pushed him metaphorically on his knees was the realisation that he wouldn’t be able to help Father anymore. That he wouldn’t be there to ensure that Father would not kill, him and Todd taking that decision for him, taking out some villains permanently in order to keep their father’s sanity. If Father lost his moral compass, then they were all doomed, because once you tasted blood, there was no coming back, not really. Todd understood now why Batman couldn’t kill, but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t kill for him. Grayson turned a blind eye and sometimes Tim provided the targets.

But knowing that they would have to continue without him, that he wouldn’t be there anymore, it had struck him. That he wouldn’t be there to enjoy the company of Alfred, with some Earl Grey and Pennyworth on his lap, purring. That he wouldn’t be able to put his fist in the face of the goons they fought every night. That he wouldn’t see Father smile at Superman and Wonder Woman like they were the most precious thing he ever had the chance to hold. Like Jason looked at Dick whenever he thought that no one was looking. Selfishly, he thought that he was too young to die, had too many things he had now the right to explore to be run through by a katana.

Coming back to reality when a hand waved in front of him, he snapped his eyes back at Isaac, who was wearing a concerned face. “What?” he spat, clearly not over the fact that a civilian had discovered his identity and was now concerned.

“You okay? I have the feeling you went in a bad place of your memories, ‘cause the red on your stomach started to spread.”

Oh right. Colours. Seriously, it was starting to get kind of annoying. Those colours were like an emotional state detector and it was unnerving to know that a stranger could read all his emotions by just looking at the colour on his body. Scowling, he sighed, “I am well, no need to dump your worries on me.”

Isaac just snorted, disbelieving. An awkward silence settled, the two boys not knowing what to say anymore. Everything had blown off, they had nothing more to discuss. Damian wanted to go back home to figure his next move about Isaac – maybe locking him away to make sure that he wasn’t about to hand him to the cops, or someone worse for that matter- and take a nap before patrol. Standing up, Isaac handed him his hand to help him up and turned at his face him for the first time of the day, eyes glued on a point over Damian’s head. “You know what? I think you’ll want to keep an eye on me, secret identity yada yada, so why not be friends? That way you can drop the creepy act and I’ll have a conversation partner in school. Win-win situation.”

Damian wanted to laugh at his face. Him, a friend? Had Isaac really gone insane for him to ask that? And also, he hadn’t ignored him for a while to now become friends with him. That would absolutely be counterproductive. But seeing Isaac stare nervously in the space them, he doubted his judgement for the first time today.

That was way too simple. Or maybe not, Kent had done the same and they were now on ‘friendly’ terms. But the situations were different. Kent was an alien with superpowers that fought alongside him, while Isaac was a stranger that busted his identity in no time with some weird brain powers. It smelled trouble, and Damian wasn’t sure this would be a good idea. But he had come a long way from the antisocial brat he once was, being rude, seeing friends as a liability more than a strength and he had to admit, Isaac was getting more and more interesting. So if this contract allowed Damian to keep his surveillance without getting caught, then he would maybe give it a shot.  “-Tt- Alright, your idea merits considering. But keep your bragging to a minimum or it won’t be viable anymore.”, he said, standing up on his own, refusing Isaac’s hand, who let it drop at his side with a slight frown.

“You are so weird, Damian.”, muttered Isaac so quietly that Damian didn’t pick it up. He then went in front of him to lead him out of his room, shouting at him before exiting for the bathroom, drowning him in a flow of question before locking the door. “You like hyperrealism? Oh and there’s coffee under the counter. Put it in the coffee maker and start it, I think I need a cup to celebrate our newly sealed friendship. Surely you want one as well, don’t you Wayne? Do you even know how to make coffe?”

Damian almost smiled at the absurdity of it all. Almost.

Boom, there ya go. Second chapter. find me on Ao3 under Neverask, or with the name of this story. 

Do not reupload to another site without my consent. If you do, I will find you and I will send Wade after your ass. He’s very fond of the spider I’m bringing to the team.

[heartslogos]

mafia!verse: the wedding [1]

There are social events that hold personal, and social, significance and power. They bring communities together. They provide avenues for bonding and exchanging information, exchanging money, exchanging blood.

Society uses these occasions to build. To grow. To war.

And during these occasions nothing is more important than hospitality. Civility. Propriety. The following of certain accepted social agreements and unspoken rules. The covenant of neighbors, of social hierarchy, of class.

Birthdays are an example of such an important occasion.

The classic tale of Sleeping Beauty illustrates exactly why this is so important. A child is born and everyone comes to wish the happy parents well. The parents invite everyone of import.

But everyone knows that there’s one person who wasn’t invited. And whether or not they would have accepted the invitation is irrelevant. What matters is that no invitation was offered.

One does not slight someone of such power and importance.

Now, the Wayne family isn’t made of fairies. There’s too much talent for iron and its various formats for that. But at least two of them are so rotten not even death would take them.

Another such occasion with as much importance that would require the same amount of respect and healthy handling of such societal niceties as a birth is a wedding, which usually precedes a birth by about eight to nine months depending on how close that shotgun is to someone’s head.

Weddings are important things. They’re the start of something. They’re the end of something. They’re the making of something. They are the destroying of something.

Weddings bring people together. They end wars. They start alliances. They usher in peace. They can start feuds. They can start grudges.

And the Wayne family was not issued an invitation to this one.

Dick Grayson drives up to the security guards posted all the way down at the end of the street, parking his car right there in the damned center of it and knowing not a single person present — security guards, people who also happen to unfortunately live in this affluent suburban neighborhood, reporters, police — is going to stop him.

The man’s an angel to end all angels.

The word end is used in its most literal, finite, and apocryphal sense here.

Man’s got a smile like a morning star, you could call him Vesper. You could also call him by the other name, too, but you’d get more of a laugh than anything.

He smiles that devil’s smile and the security guards falter. Most do.

Dick Grayson adjusts his suit, and turns to the sound of another car. Dark cherry red coming to a smooth stop next to his.

“Jason,” his eyebrows raise as the car doors open, “Tim. You came together?”

“Yup,” Jason answers, jerking his thumb towards the passenger side as it threatens to swing closed on the occupant. “Timbo over there’s having a day. I felt like being decent and giving the man a ride.”

“Feel like being decent and helping me out of the car?” Tim calls from the other side. Jason leans against his side of the car, making no move to go help. Dick shakes his head and goes to help.

“Having a day are you?” Dick asks, holding the door open so Tim can swing his forearm crutches out and pull himself out after them.

Tim Drake was supposedly assassinated on live television four or five years ago. Supposedly. Rumor has it that it was all staged. To make the people who saw that video feel sorry for him. To get the negative press coming from outside of Gotham off his back. To get people who do want him dead to lower their guard so he could surprise them by popping back up when they least expect it.

Jury’s out on whether he was really shot or not — several thousand witnesses, a still somewhat visible bloodstain right out front of W.E., and a box of evidence in the police department vaults aside. But he’s been using the crutches on and off ever since and no one’s got the balls to challenge it to his face.

“Yes.”

“And Jason just so happened to be around to give you a ride?”

“I might have been there already as the day was progressing towards crutches territory,” Jason admits, making a motion for them to get a move on so he can lock the car.

“Oh? Anything I should be worried about?”

“We were bonding,” Jason says, “Right, Replacement?”

“It’s fine, Dick,” Tim ignores Jason and starts to swat Dick’s hands away as he tries to fix Tim’s hair. “What are you doing here?”

A motorcycle snarls in the rapidly deceasing distance.

“It’s a family gathering off the manor grounds,” Jason groans, “Ode to joy.”

Cassandra’s black monster of a motorcycle comes to a perfect stop, next to Jason’s car.

She flips the visor on her helmet up, examining all of them before resting her eyes on Tim.

“Bad?” She nods towards the crutches.

“They aren’t for the aesthetic.”

Before anyone can say anything about that, one way or the other, a final car comes by. It doesn’t park, it idles as its passenger leaves the back seat, before slowly reversing and turning itself around to drive off again.

“What are you all doing here?”

“Attending a wedding,” the four of them answer, eyeing each other and Damian.

“Alright, I’ll bite, did anyone here get an invite?” Jason says, “Raise your hand if you feel excluded from the block party that literally everyone was invited to.”

Four hands raise. Tim whacks one of his crutches against Jason’s tires to cast his vote.

“I heard Vale was invited,” Damian says as they all stare at each other.

“I’m sure our invitation was lost,” Dick shrugs, “I bet they didn’t know who to address it to. There’s six of us, after all, and most of us are never at the manor.”

“Such optimism.”

Cassandra points at the closest security guard, making sure he’s met her eyes before she points at her bike.

“If this has moved,” Cassandra says, “I will remove you.”

She does not wait to see if this is understood. She turns around and starts to take off her leather jacket, revealing a black undershirt.

Cameras flash. The reporters who didn’t get a chance to pass security know better than to ask questions, and to be content with whatever pictures they can manage.

“Shouldn’t you be hiding your face?” Jason gestures towards the flashing cameras as the four of them move to somewhat obscure their sister from the flashing lights. “Might look bad for you if you’re seen crashing a wedding.”

Tim’s smile to the cameras causes a riot of flashes that are now solidly directed and him. It looks so menacing in its niceness that it would make sharks look like herbivores.

“Don’t be silly, Jason. I own those reporters.”

“Tim, Tim, Tim,” Dick chides, “You can’t own reporters. Owning reporters is owning people and that’s slavery. It’s been outlawed.”

“Slavery is illegal and wrong,” Cassandra says from where she’s standing a bit off from them, pulling out a neatly folded dress shirt from her bike’s storage compartment and doing it up. “Damian, do my tie.”

Damian sighs, “Yes, Cassandra. You’d think that you’d know how to tie it yourself at this point, considering all the other knots you know.”

Dick points at her as he slings an arm around Tim and Jason, drawing them in together earning a grumble from Jason and an irritated eye roll from Tim, “Exactly, Cass. Besides, there’s something more powerful than owning a person.”

Cassandra and Dick both turn at the same time to face the cameras directly in a sharp snap.

“You can own the face of their fear.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jason passes a hand over his eyes. “You’re the goddamned worst. I don’t know why I bother. Alright. Let’s get this shit show on the road.”

Dick smiles at the guards.

“You don’t need to see our invitation, right?”

Damian doesn’t wait, he brushes past the guards and starts walking towards the house with the white ribbons on its tall stone wall.

“Our invitation is the fact that we are Waynes, and all the money used to pay for this wedding came from our graces,” Damian says, “And frankly, I would like to see such graces return with some measure of gratitude.”

“Agreed,” Tim adjusts his grip on his crutches as he moves forward, parting guards without any resistance. “This union wouldn’t have happened without my influence and I would like some minor acknowledgement of that. And there are some people here who’ve been annoyingly persistent in how hard they are to reach.”

[ververa]

"You are enough"

CHAPTER 11

Ronnie had always been an artistic soul. She had never had too many friends and hadn’t wanted to change it. She wasn’t the same type as her mother – who would socialise with everyone whenever the occasion arose. Ronnie was just Ronnie – she preferred such a way of living since the very beginning. But it all was connected with her childhood. She was brought up mostly by her grandmother. And Joanne, as an overprotective granny, didn’t leave her too much space for exploring the world – as kids usually do. In the woman’s eyes she was always a little and way too fragile thing that may get sick or hurt herself every time she left the house. Basically, in granny’s confidence everything from the outside could kill her. Joanne preferred to keep her preoccupied with something different, that let them stay inside, and that thing were books. A whole lot of literature – fairy tales, short stories, comic books. It was as if she were living in a completely different reality.

So, when she finally broke free it was a bit hard to accustom. She was like the odd one out. And her new school was a kind of reality check and a real challenge. Being a good and liked by every teacher student was one thing, but having a mother – that demands being the best in everything was the other. Ballet class was never Ronnie’s dream, but for Caroline it was a way to made her own dreams and ambitions to come true. It was okay for Ronnie to do what her mother wanted until things got complicated. And when they did the girl finally understood what a pain in the ass her mother was. She had nobody who could help her when she broke down. She was dealing with her own demons and post-traumatic stress disorder on her own, because for Caroline it was her who was the problem. She was carrying on for so long, that when she didn’t have to do it all – alone any more – it was really hard to stop. It was as if she had built walls around herself. And nobody tried to get in to her shell, until she met Ellie.

Caroline was that type of mother, who noticed her daughter only when she succeeded in something. But even then the woman wasn’t really there for Ronnie, but for her success. She was always boasting herself – claiming it was all thanks to her. But with Ellie it was different. The psychiatrist was with her in, probably, the worst moments. When she was suffering from major depression and broke down – Staple was there ready to help. When she made the worst of possible decisions and cut her veins – it was Ellie who pulled her out of the bath and blocked the bleeding. The psychiatrist not only saved her, but also took care of her further treatment. She didn’t let them send her to a madhouse far away – in the middle of nowhere. She took care of Ronnie n her own. And she cured her of depression, eating disorders and low self-esteem. But despite being the best psychiatrist and the greatest of possible remedies Staple couldn’t cure her from insecurities and sensitivity to criticism.

But she was a painter. Criticism was a part of her profession and she was taking it pretty well. But after painting for almost half of her life and exhibiting for 3 she was done. Ronnie felt as if she had nothing more to offer. She simply didn’t have new ideas and all her old works were already seen by everyone. It wasn’t the first time she had a block, but it lasted longer than before and Ronnie was almost sure it’s a permanent state. It felt as if she had run out of everything that was in her head previously. Though the worst was yet to come.

____________________________

Ellie was abroad when the girl decide to end her adventure with painting – at least for some time. She went to meet with her agents, even though she wasn't really convinced to it.

"You what?!" a slim blonde – Bella yelled

"I'm not going to paint"

"And why is that?" the woman rolled her eyes not taking it seriously at allowing

"I don't have anything to offer any more"

"Ronnie" a tall, black man began "You should think about it"

"I did. If I haven't thought about it I wouldn't be here. This is the end"

"Ronney. Little girl, it's not the first time you're facing such kind of block"

"Jason is right. You should go somewhere. Rest, relax. And inspiration will come, as always"

"It won't" Ronnie shook her head "I know you don't understand. And I don't expect you to do so. My works were filled with grief, anger and fear. But I don't have it inside me any more. The old Ronnie is gone. I evolved and there's nothing more that I can paint"

"Is it because of Ellie?" Bella asked

"What? No"

"In my opinion it is"

"Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with it. It's my decision"

"You do not make decisions, little girl"

"Don't call me that. I'm not a kid any more"

"If you weren't a kid you would know that it's not a decision that you can make just like that. Did you even think what consequences it may carry?"

"And if you're not so vain you would know that there's no use in continuing it. Think about the last exhibition. It was a flop, because I have nothing more to show. You wanted me to dye my hair, so I could draw attention. I did. Now, my hair is fucking pink, but it changed nothing. People do not enjoy my art any more. Get over it. I'm done painting. A real artist ought to know when it's time to get off the stage. And this is that very moment. I gave people everything that I could, but I run out of ideas and I'm not going to push myself, because you want to earn money"

"And what are you going to do?"

"I..." she hesitated

"You have nothing! Only paintings. If you leave, you're over" Bella stated "You're nobody without them!" her voice was full of venom At that Ronnie stood up. She smiled at the woman and then at Jason, who seemed to be afraid to interfere in their little argument. "You're right. I'm nobody without paintings. So, it's probably the high time I changed it" she said and left the office ____________ Ellie had been working on improving Ronnie's confidence since the very beginning. On the one hand the girl was introverted and sensitive, but on the other she was full of energy and creativity. That combination astounded Ellie. Even though it wasn't easy, after those 3 years that passed, she managed to unblock the girl. However, there were still those moments when Ronnie got insecure and that's heartbreaking.

“Maybe I was never meant to be a painter” the girl implied as she was talking with Ellie on Skype

“Nonsense. You’re a great painter and you created a lot of wonderful works. It’ll always be a part of you, but if you don’t feel like painting any more you don’t have to”

“Bella sent me an e-mail what consequences my quitting will have”

“Which are?”

“If I terminate a contract I’ll have to pay quite a lot of money”

“This is a typical ploy”

“I know, but…”

“Look, our finance is stable. You don’t need to worry about the money. You can do it”

“And I’ll just sit at home and be your dependent? I don’t think so”

“I knew you’re going to bring it up again” Ellie shook her head “We’ll talk about it, when I come back. By the way, you remember that you’re going to the symposium with me?”

Ronnie did remember. It was going to be another dull meeting during which she would not talk with anyone, cause she’s just not like them. She didn’t like going there, but was doing it for Ellie. However, the girl failed to understand why the hell the psychiatrist wanted her to be there.

“I do, but maybe you should go there alone?”

“Why?”

“You know, those hair...”

“It’s not that bad”

“Red. My hair is fucking red. And ‘bad’ doesn’t describe it any more”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only hair after all”

“El, I look like a forest fairy”

The psychiatrist burst into laughter

“Yeah. Sure. Laugh at me” Ronnie huffed

“You look stunning. I would say fairy-like” she chuckled

“It’s not funny”

“You sure? Cause I think it is”

Ronnie rolled her eyes

“I’m serious you look good. Nobody will care. And even if they do, I’ll be right there and nobody will dare to say anything”

“Ellie the bad-ass?” Ronnie laughed

“No bad-ass. Just the boss” she shrugged smirking

“Being in charge is definitely your thing” the girl stated

“I suppose it is. So, I hope you’ll be here tomorrow”

“You say it as if I had a choice”

“You do have a choice”

“You’re going to give a speech and you promised to show me what a bad-ass you can be. How can I miss such a promising event?”

_____________________________

The symposium was supposed to be the ending of the one of many business trips – on which Ellie was. She was obviously the best psychiatrist and so she was asked to discuss the topic of delusion of grandeur – in which she was an expert.

It definitely wasn’t the first time she had to make such a speech, though she didn’t really like it. After all, instead of doing it, she could focus on her work or spend some time at home with Ronnie.

That’s probably one of the reasons why she wanted the girl to be there. The second was that she hated all that fancy parties – or more precisely the people there. And being there with Ronnie she could avoid some dull and not desired talks.

Work and education had always be the Most important things for her. She worked hard to succeed and had never even thought thought that some day it wouldn’t matter that much. But there she was – in her hotel room waiting with anticipation not for the symposium – as she used to do – but for Ronnie to arrive.

Though, the girl’s flight was delayed. Due to that fact they’re supposed to meet at the symposium. Ronnie hated such situations. In the aspect of having things under control they were both similar – everything had to be planned and go according to the plan. In other circumstances they’re pissed off. And so, as Ronnie finally arrived she was, basically, on the edge. Her patience and inner peace were already overexerted, so when things complicated even more she exploded.

“I’m sorry” a slim brunette dressed in some elegant clothes came to her

“Yes?” the girl tried to sound polite despite being nervous

“Not to be rude, but I think you may have mistook the places” she affirmed

“I’m afraid I don’t understand”

“You don’t look like someone with a doctor’s degree”

Ronnie frowned and took a few steps back. Then she took a deep breath, cause internally she had already punched the woman right in her face.

“Not to be rude, but shouldn’t you mind your own business?” she responded calmly

“I’m only saying that’s a fancy place and the meeting is for the doctors with degree in psychiatry”

“I’m not going to prove you my point. Neither do I intend to duel with you, as I don’t have a habit of attacking defenceless” with that Ronnie turned back only to face her girlfriend

Ellie was standing there with her arms crossed.

“Doctor Staple” the woman began pleadingly “I was just trying to explain that this meeting requires some standards and it’s not the right place for her”

Ronnie wasn’t sure what to do – whether she ought to say anything more and simply put the woman in her place or not. Ellie’s face remained unreadable. She glanced at the woman, then back at Ronnie.

“Indeed, Miss Levine, this meeting, place and in general work requires some certain standards and abilities that you’re apparently lacking” the psychiatrist attested dryly

Ronnie’s eyes widened. She looked at Ellie surprised – she definitely hadn’t expected her to act like that

“Well, miss” she addressed Ronnie “I bet your place may be already taken, as you’re late, so I’m afraid you’ll have to sit down next to me”

The girl smiled at Ellie’s professional tone

“I bet I’ll have to make do with it”

“I suppose” Ellie’s smile came back as Ronnie came closer to her “So, how was your flight, baby?” she asked loud enough for Miss Levine to hear

The woman’s eyes widened as she learnt with whom she was just talking. And it only made Ronnie laugh at how ridiculous and stupid people could be sometimes.

“I didn’t know you can be that bossy” the girl chuckled as they entered the building

“Do you think I overreacted?”

“No. It was… well, it was funny” she laughed “For me at least. Cause the poor woman was probably at the edge of having a heart attack”

“It’s only her fault. Nobody gets to mess with my girlfriend. Definitely, not someone with inflated ego, that’s not really compatible with their intellect”

Ronnie smiled fondly looking at the psychiatrist. They’re together for a few years, but it still amazed her how protective and combative Ellie became when it’s coming to defending her. But she could act the same and when it was about standing up for Staple, Ronnie didn’t shy away from resorting to violence, which she proved on a few occasions. In the girl’s case it was rather reasoned – since she cut herself off from her mother she had nobody, but Ellie. However, even though Staple did have a loving family none of them could compare to Ronnie. She was the best that had ever happened to Ellie and it was a natural instinct – to protect what was the most precious to her. And Ronnie became, literally, the world to her.

Even during her speech, the woman wasn’t looking at anybody, but the girl. And at one point she needed to take a break, cause when her eyes met Ronnie’s she got too distracted to continue.

“Will you tell me what’s your secret?” the girl beamed when Ellie came back to her seat right next to her

“My secret?”

“Yeah. How do you know that much?”

“I don’t” she smiled

“You do. That was great. Really. You did great”

“Thank you”

“By the way, do you feel like going for a walk later? I’ve something to tell you”

Ellie looked at her questioningly

“Actually, I feel like going for a walk now” the psychiatrist said

“But it’s not the end yet…”

“So what?”

“I thought you want to stay till the end…”

“I intended to, but now I’m way too curious what you’re going to tell me”

Ronnie only shook her head chuckling, as Ellie led her to the exit.

“So? What is it?” the psychiatrist asked when they were outside

“Well, I decided that I’m going to go back to the university”

Ellie stopped and looked at the girl. She wasn’t surprised – they simply didn’t discuss how Ronnie had to take a break form the university, because of the treatment and then didn’t continue.

“What? You think it’s a bad idea?” Ronnie asked

“No. This is a great idea. I mean as long as you want it I’m going to support you”

“I don’t know yet. I would like to do something that may affect people’s life. Though there’s nothing I’m good at, so it may be hard to find something suitable. But I can always try”

“Nonsense. You’re good at everything”

“Yeah. Sure. But still there’s no studies for me”

“Did you think about psychology?”

“Psychology?”

“Yes. You would be a good psychologist. You’re a good listener and people tend to trust you”

“I… Well, do you think I can?”

“Of course, you can. It’s all up to you”

“O-okay”

“You know?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so fucking proud of you” she cupped Ronnie’s cheeks

“Because I’m going to study?”

“No! Because you’re a fighter. You defeated your insecurities and put that stupid bitch in her place”

“Well, I guess I have a good master”

At that Ellie smiled fondly and leaned in to kiss the girl.   

[chibinightowl]

Dinner, Dancing, and a Dog

For the @jaytimsecretsanta 2018, I received prompts for @brightestdaay and chose fake relationship for the mission. Beta read by @comebackolivia. 

Enjoy!

~*~*~

It starts with a favor, as things involving Jason so often do. Tim adjusts the phone against his shoulder and blows his bangs out of his eyes with an impatient huff. “You want me to what?” “Be my date for the night. It’ll make my cover more complete if I have some arm candy.” Yeah, that’s what he thought Jason said the first time. “You do know that five hours before isn’t exactly the best time to ask a favor like this, right?” He can hear the frustration in Jason’s voice. “I know, I know. But it’s just dinner at Scarpetto’s. Guy or gal, doesn’t really matter to me.” “No, but it matters to the Sicilian mobsters it sounds like you’re trying to nail.” Tim eyes the clock on his desk. If he leaves now, he’ll have enough time to shave and tame his eyebrows into something vaguely feminine that won’t take forever to grow back. “You owe me.” “Done. I’ll pick you up at 8.” Tim glares at his phone. One of these days, he’s going to collect on all the little favors Jason owes him. Big time. ~*~*~ Jason lets out a low whistle when Tim opens the apartment door. Traffic had not been kind earlier so he’s glad the rush job passes muster. “Wow, I’ve heard some stories about the things you can do with makeup, but this is top notch.” Tim shrugs and the fabric barely covering his shoulders flutters slightly. “If I’m going to crossdress, I’m not going to half-ass it.” “Nope, I can see that.” Jason nods approvingly. “Perhaps you can teach me a few things.” It’s hard to keep a straight face because Jason’s idea of a disguise tonight is a goatee. Tim can’t spot any telltale signs that it’s a fake, so it is entirely possible that the dark facial hair is real. He supposes he can give him a bonus point for dyeing the white streak on his brow. It stands out. “About what?” Tim replies blithely as he grabs a coat. “Padding? Falsies? Gaffes?” Jason pales slightly. “I was thinking mascara and eyeliner. There’s a club I need to hit up in a few nights where that kind of look is in.” Tim flashes him a bright rosy smile. “Darling, that look hasn’t gone out of style for ages.” He takes Jason’s arm and marches him out the door. 

The target is Paul Giannini, an up and coming mobster who Jason believes is the newest hitman for the Petrillo crime family (the irony behind the name means nothing to Jason, so Tim doesn’t elaborate). They’re relatively new to Gotham, transplants from New York, and seem to be trying to rebuild what was once Carmine Falcone’s little empire. Not that this has a chance in hell of happening under Batman’s watch, but it’s nice to let these guys spin their wheels before showing them the ugly reality of what doing business in Gotham really entails. Jason isn’t doing more than surveillance tonight and for his own reasons that have nothing to do with Bruce as he was quick to explain during the drive to the restaurant. 

Tim doesn’t care. He’s the one in a dress after all. 

Dinner is good. It always is here, and Tim makes sure he bats his eyes and coos at appropriate times. Jason tries to play along as best he can, but it soon becomes clear he has no idea what to do with a date. “You’re acting like you’ve never done this before,” Tim says quietly once the antipasti is devoured. He may be playing a simpering girlfriend but damn if he’s not getting a free meal out of it. The faint reddening of Jason’s ears is all the answer he needs. “I haven’t exactly dated much,” he admits quietly, which is more than Tim expects from him. “Time, inclination, you name it. I always worry I’m going to hurt the other person.” Tim can’t fault him for that. “I get it. I really do.” Jason smiles crookedly and huffs a small laugh. “I’ve heard about your track record.” “It’s nowhere near as bad as Dick’s,” Tim replies with a cheeky grin and takes a sip of wine. The woman Giannini is with gets up and heads toward the bathroom. Tim glances at Jason and he nods wordlessly. She’s almost as important as the mobster so he follows after counting to ten. Sauntering into the women’s bathroom like he totally belongs there, Tim pauses at the mirror to check his makeup since the woman he’s tailing is in a stall. Nothing wrong there so he freshens up and shares a smile with the bottle blonde when she emerges. The smile drops when she draws a gun. Tim is moving before she has a chance to aim it, gripping her wrist tightly and forcing her arm away from them both toward the floor. She’s shouting at him, screaming about how they can’t pin anything on Paul. He doesn’t know or care how they knew they were being spied on, all he’s focused on at the moment is not getting shot or his eyes clawed out by the woman’s free hand. He shifts slightly and puts more pressure on her wrist, forcing the woman to drop the gun. She shrieks as he kicks it into one of the stalls and Tim blinks from the sheer volume she manages to reach. The gun is out of the way, so he pins her against the countertop and forces both arms behind her back. “Would you please stop that?” he says in a low tone. Too low. Her eyes widen. “You’re not a woman!” she manages to get out before Tim claps a hand over her mouth to muffle her. In the brief silence, they both hear the gunshot from the dining room, followed by loud shouts and screams from the other guests. It’s impossible to say who shot who from in here, but Tim just hopes that Jason isn’t involved.

This is all going to hell. The blonde tries to headbutt him and Tim decides he’s done with her. A quick nerve strike has her limp in his arms, her eyes wide in shock from the sudden paralysis. “You’ll be up and making trouble in less than ten minutes,” he says as he tucks her inside one of the stalls and closes the door. “Enjoy the view.” Retrieving the gun with a tissue, he hides it in his purse and peers out the door to get the lay of the land. It’s pure chaos in the dining room and Tim doesn’t spot Jason immediately. He does see Giannini laying against an overturned table with blood streaming down one shoulder, gun in hand and shouting at some unseen person about his innocence. What he’s saying doesn’t make sense though, not for what Jason dragged them here for, so there’s a distinct possibility this isn’t Jason’s fault at all. Tim keeps low and carefully creeps out. It’s a challenge in three inch heels but he manages. As soon as he emerges, a voice speaks up from behind him. “Thank fuck that’s you.” It’s Jason. Glancing over his shoulder, Tim finds Jason peering out from the men’s room. “What are you doing?” he hisses and tries to crab-walk backwards. Again, heels. “Can’t a guy take a piss in peace?” “You’re on surveillance. Hold it.” “You went to the bathroom!” Tim wants to throw up his hands and scream. This is what working with Jason always does to him. “Whatever. You get what you need or is that little firefight out there not the kind of trouble you feel like jumping into?”

“Those are Maroni’s goons out there. I think they’re gonna take care of my problem for me.”  

That sounds awfully permanent. Tim scoots past the men’s room door and hides behind a large planter. Taking his phone out of his purse, he sends a quick text to Barbara via one of their encrypted numbers for police backup. She replies back an instant later saying they’re already on the way, with the SWAT team en route too.  

“Time to leave,” Tim announces and darts down the back hall to the employee only door. He’s been here enough to know it’s actually the backdoor to the restaurant that leads out into the alley.  

“What the hell?” Jason protests as he follows. “Since when were you in charge?”

“Since SWAT is on the way and we really don’t need to be stuck here for questioning later.” He also doesn’t want to be here when the nerve strike on Giannini’s girlfriend wears off as she’ll easily point him out unless he gets gone now.  

“Works for me.”  

They’re barely outside when Jason wraps an arm around Tim’s waist and hauls him close, the hiss of a grapple line firing up and into the night. Tim has a brief moment to hold on tight before he’s swept off his feet like the proverbial damsel in distress.  

“What was that for?” he asks once they’re on the rooftop, feeling slightly breathless. He smacks Jason upside the head for good measure, which makes him feel much better.

Jason growls and rubs his head. “I have a safehouse in this building. We can lay low for a couple hours, watch a movie or something, and then I can take your bitchy ass home.”  

Tim wants to protest but his ankles hurt and the sooner he’s out of these shoes, the better. “Fine. But I’m picking the movie.”  

~*~*~*~

After the other night, Tim should have seen this coming. At least this time, he has more than twenty four hours notice, which is good since his ankles are still sore.  

“What time?” he asks with a long suffering sigh.  

“Nine?” Jason replies hesitantly. “Your place because I still can’t quite get the hang of that thing you showed me with the eyeliner?”  

This, at least, he did see coming. “Fine. What club are we going to?”  

Jason rattles off the name of a gay club in the Upper East Side that Tim is rather familiar with. “I know it. I’ve picked up my fair share of drug samples there.”

“You don’t need to wear a dress,” Jason adds, clearly trying to be helpful since he knows Tim is doing him yet another massive favor.

He’s glad they’re on the phone because Jason would probably try to deck him if he saw his hugely exaggerated eye roll. “Well, I could, but that would send the wrong message. I’m more believable as your date if I’m in pants this time.”  

“Huh?” Jason sounds confused.  

There’s a growing suspicion in Tim’s mind, one that is going to have him on the floor laughing once this call is over. “Jason, you do know this is a LGBTQ club, right?”  

The long silence is answer enough.  

“Right,” Tim replies matter of factly. “In that case, make sure you wear a pair of tight pants and a t-shirt that’s one size too small for you. Anything else and you’ll probably stand out too much.”  

Considering Jason’s considerable physique, he’s already going to stand out. Tim has a feeling he’ll be the one doing the real work.  

“Okay,” Jason agrees in a slightly taken aback tone. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”  

“Later.” Tim hangs up and glares at his phone. Why is he putting himself through all this? The favor he’s going to call in at some point will need to be a doozy.  

~*~*~

Tim totally called it earlier. For all the guys whose type is tall, dark, and muscular, Jason is a piece of meat they can’t wait to get a chance with. Most aren’t pushy once they see him all but clinging nervously to Tim, but a few are forward enough to keep the taller man close. They put out a cover story that fits all too well — this is Jason’s first time in a club like this and he’s a bit overwhelmed.  

Proud to be out with his boyfriend, but still overwhelmed.  

Another new suspicion grows in Tim’s mind, one that harkens back to their dinner conversation the other night. Jason doesn’t date much. Or very possibly at all. This would explain volumes as to why he’s asking him of all people for assistance. Sure, Jason has to know he’s opening himself up to Tim’s ridicule but what he has to dish out is lightyears weaker than the constant ribbing from Dick.  

So Tim plays the role of the more experienced boyfriend, laughing and teasing his significant other lovingly as they maneuver slowly toward the VIP rooms where a drug dealer on Jason’s radar has taken up residence and uses a handful of people here as runners who scope out potential deals, from those who just want to have a little fun to others looking for a more serious fix.  

Jason isn’t after him tonight, he just wants to see what he’s pushing.  

“I’ve heard a rumor that he’s got access to fentanyl,” he explains to Tim out on the crowded dance floor, their bodies pressed together firmly. When he’s not stressing over where to place his hands, Jason is a decent dancer. “If it’s true, then I want to know where he’s getting it.”  

That is definitely something Tim can get behind. He nods and wraps his arms around Jason’s neck, drawing him closer so he can speak without shouting. “Any idea what the street name is around here?”

If he’s going to be asking around, knowing the right terminology for this part of town will help. What Jason’s real interest is here remains to be seen, but there has to be a connection to the Bowery and Crime Alley if he’s wandered out of his usual haunts.  

Jason frowns, but whether that’s from Tim’s breath tickling his ear or because he doesn’t know, Tim can’t be sure. “I’ve heard both Jackpot and Murder 8 on my streets.”

Tim knows quite a few more, but this doesn’t do him any good. “We may need to do this more than once. Establish ourselves, work our way up.”

“I thought you’d been here before?”  

“In various disguises.” The one he’s wearing now is a bit more eye shadow heavy than usual and for once in his life, a five o’clock shadow hides the shape of his jaw. It irks Tim that it still takes him a few days to grow something that Jason, Dick, and Bruce all have to shave off twice a day if the need calls for it. Perhaps he’ll get lucky the further into his twenties he goes.  

The first night is a bust, even if they do score some rather questionable lollipops in a bright shade of blue that would make Dick proud.  

They come back several nights later and Tim manages to buy some oxycodone from the backroom dealer. Apparently, the man doesn’t trust his little army of tweekers with the real cash deals. He drops a hint that he’s in the market for something a little more potent and the dealer gives him a smarmy smile, openly eying Tim in his too tight pants and stylishly ripped t-shirt.  

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” is all he says, and Tim takes that as his cue to leave.  

He makes his way toward the bar where he left Jason and stops short, fighting down the impulse to laugh. It’s way too loud in here for it to carry far, but he’s undercover.

Jason has two men practically wrapped around him, one with a slender build Tim would probably have if he didn’t have to work out so much while the other guy is a bit more compact. He can’t help but notice neither one of them is any taller than him. What’s even more hilarious though is Jason’s deer-in-the-headlights expression. He’s on the verge of bolting, Tim can tell.

Well then. He can’t have that.

Tim strolls up to the bar, letting just a hint of predatorial intent enter his gaze. Right here and now, Jason is his and those two guys are poaching on his territory.

The things he does to maintain a cover.

Jason spots him and shoves away from the bar, completely ignoring the two men pouting and pleading with him to stay.

“Thank fuck,” he says as he all but hides behind Tim. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more like a piece of meat in all my life.”

Tim makes sure to smirk at the other men before turning his attention on Jason. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” he asks, wrapping an arm around Jason’s waist and dragging him out to the relative safety of the dance floor. They can’t leave quite yet. “Do I need to put a collar on you? A leash?”

“You’re such a shit, you know that?” Jason comments as they find the beat of the music and settle in.

“You’re the one who’s a trouble magnet.”

“I didn’t ask those guys to climb all over me!” Jason’s ears are more than a little red.

Tim wraps his arms around Jason’s neck and tugs him down slightly, his mouth pressed close to Jason’s ear. From the right angle, it looks like he’s mouthing a line up the side of Jason’s neck, which is the point he’s trying to make to the two men who are still watching them closely from the bar. “You need to relax. We’re undercover and you’re the one acting like the shy virgin. In case you’d forgotten, we’re a couple here. Act like it or these things will keep happening.”

This close, he can feel Jason swallow even as his back stiffens. Before Tim can even register it, he’s shoved away from him. His protest dies on his lips as Jason spins him around, slotting himself against his back, hands falling to Tim’s hips like they belong there.

“Better?” Jason’s voice is rough and low in Tim’s ear as they start dancing again.

Tim swallows, startled by the overwhelming sense of how right this feels. He’s no stranger to being held like this, some nameless person grinding against him while his attention is elsewhere following his target. His body reacts as it never has before and ever so briefly, he wishes that Jason’s hands would slip just a little lower.

Reality comes slamming back into him when another dancer accidently jostles them. What the hell is he thinking? This is Jason Todd, the same man who has tried to kill him more than once. A few years may have passed since then and they’ve managed to forge a pretty good working relationship, but to say they got off on the right foot would be a complete and utter lie.

So why is Jason making him feel this way?

A little too late, Tim nods his head, remembering the question. “Yeah. Fine.”

They leave a short while later, Tim hoping that Jason doesn’t notice the slight awkward shuffle to his steps.

Third time is the charm, a fact for which Tim is glad for because once they hit the dance floor again and Jason’s big arms wrap around him, his body starts to betray him once more. He’s never felt so glad to see one of the drug runners and hit them up to see their boss.

Tim pays out the ass for the fentanyl, not quibbling because this guy knows he’s got the money and is marking it up.

That night after they leave, he and Jason part ways to change into their uniforms and return, staking out the front and back doors of the club. It’s late by the time the dealer exits through the employee door. They tail him all the way to Burnley and into a nondescript townhouse.

Jason lowers his binoculars. “Well, thanks for helpin’ me out. I think I got it from here.”

Tim frowns, but doesn’t argue. His part in all this, pretending to be Jason’s boyfriend to create a believable cover, is over. “No problem. You still owe me one.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know I’m good for it.”

Surprisingly enough, he does.

~*~*~*~

Tim drops his box with a heavy thunk. Inside, something crunches and he takes a certain amount of petty delight in Jason’s frown.

“What if I told you the coffee mugs are in there?” Jason says. He’s arranging the silverware drawer.

“That’s your problem, not mine. I have travel mugs that don’t break.”

Tim stalks away to grab another box. How the hell he let himself get talked into this, he has no clue.

This being the third time in less than two months that Jason has asked him to help out with one of his cases. Or, more specifically, asked him to be in a fake relationship to help establish his cover. He’s starting to see a pattern here.

“Why the hell did I say yes?” Tim mumbles as he grabs another box from the back of their small moving van.

He knows all too well why he did. It’s the same reason that’s been haunting him for the last six weeks. The same little feeling that keeps reappearing anytime he even so much as gets a text from the man.

This isn’t happening to him. It can’t be. He does not find Jason attractive.  

“His face is stupid,” he mutters, then sighs.

Leaning against the back of the van, Tim closes his eyes, trying to calm himself even as he toys with the wedding band resting on his finger yet again. There is nothing to be worked up over. It’s not as though Jason is doing this on purpose. He really does need his help here because a single man living in a neighborhood like this one is going to catch someone’s attention, especially since Jason needs to make himself visible and approachable. He gets to be the house-husband while Tim toddles off to work every morning and returns in the evening. Their marriage is a complete and utter sham. Nothing to get worked up over.

Besides, it’s not like Jason even sees him the same way. This is just a job. A case. Bad guys to be caught.

The drug ring Jason has been after is much bigger and better organized than he originally suspected, the trail leading into the suburbs of Gotham Heights, a solidly middle class neighborhood where crime is more of the white collar variety than anything else. This particular subdivision is relatively new though and when Tim poked around, there were more income figures in the upper five digits and lower six than the rest of the area. Wannabe real housewives of Gotham is what Jason called them and Tim has to concur. In fact, it’s what they’re hoping for. Two good looking gay men moving into the area is bound to attract the kind of attention they want, and Jason is fully ready to play house-husband and collect all the gossip while Tim is at work.

“Here, let me get that one.” Jason’s unfairly big arms reach around Tim to grab a larger box.

Tim huffs and blows his bangs out of his eyes. He needs another haircut but decided against it as it’ll help detract from how similar he appears to Timothy Drake-Wayne. That and the glasses that are perched on the end of his nose, ones that he never lets himself be seen in public with for this very reason. If it works for Clark, it’ll work for him, at least to the casual observer.

“I had that.”

“You’re supposed to be the computer nerd, remember? Lifting big boxes isn’t in your repertoire.”

Tim eyes the muscles flexing under Jason’s t-shirt, easily managing the weight. “Fine.” He picks up a large plastic tub labeled Bedding and takes it into the house.

There are three bedrooms in the house, but from what Tim understands, one is being used for their surveillance equipment and the other for the makeshift office where Jason is ostensibly writing a novel. The current plan is to rotate sleeping in the master bedroom while the other sleeps on the sofa.

Right. Tim heaves a sigh as he drops the bin on the floor and stares at the unmade king-sized bed he’d help set up earlier. “This is gonna suck.”

~*~*~

Two weeks later, Tim is ready to revise that statement. His life doesn’t suck. His life is a miserable living hell.

The routine he and Jason have fallen into is, well, domestic. Every morning, he’s out the door no later than eight to do battle with the evils of rush hour into the city where he mucks around and does casework from the quiet safety of his apartment in Crime Alley. Every evening, he makes his way back out to the suburbs, rolling in no later than six.

Thank god they have a garage because Tim is pretty sure he’d die if he had to go through the front door and make a show of kissing Jason for anyone who is watching.

“Honey, I’m home!” Tim calls out with more than a little bit of sarcasm coloring his voice.

“Fucking finally.” Jason sounds frustrated over something.

It’s probably dinner. He’s taken to watching cooking shows in the afternoon and applying what he’s learned.

Tim kicks off his shoes in the laundry room and crosses into the wide open kitchen.

Jason is wearing an apron. It’s a crying shame he’s also wearing jeans and a faded blue henley.

Son of a fucking bitch. Not again. Tim swallows hard and thanks every god he can think of that the man is facing away from him and can’t see him flounder.

“Rough day?” he manages to say without stumbling over his words.

“Just a shitty one.” Jason points toward the sink. “Wash up, then grab your plate. We need to talk.”

Great. Just great.

They sit at the kitchen counter, Jason taking a large swig from his beer bottle before digging into his meal. Tim is a little slower to start and fiddles with the wrapper on his. “What happened?” he finally asks.

“I think I’ve narrowed it down to which house around here is our real target. I finally saw that pool maintenance truck pull up today.”

The fentanyl and possibly some other drugs are being funneled into the city with vehicles that appear to be for legitimate small businesses, like plumbing contractors or yard maintenance trucks. Vehicles that wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention with drivers who actually make a show at doing what they’re there for. Or so Jason says from what he’s observed.

Tim perks up. “That’s not bad news.”

“No, it’s actually pretty good,” Jason concedes. “The problem is that I can only take so many walks through the neighborhood and chat with so many people before it starts to look strange.”

“Okay…” Tim doesn’t see where this is going.

“We need a dog.”

He blinks and drops his fork. “What?”

“We need a fucking dog. One with a good amount of energy that gives me an excuse to wander around.” Jason viciously stabs some broccoli and stuffs it in his mouth.

“And just what will happen to the dog when we’re done here?” Tim asks. He’s always wanted a dog but doing so for the sake of a mission isn’t exactly the best reason.

Jason gives him a look that clearly says he thinks Tim is being an idiot. “We find it a good home, duh.”

Right. Because that’s totally going to happen.

~*~*~

The dog’s name is Darcy because this is what happens when Tim lets Jason name things. He’s a two year old black-and-white American bulldog who thinks he’s a lapdog and drools more than any creature Tim has ever seen.

For some bizarre reason, he also adores Tim and tries to sleep with him on the sofa instead of on the big beach towel they’ve laid out on the bed in the master bedroom.

“Ugh, get off me,” Tim says, trying to shove Darcy aside one night. “You’re supposed to sleep with Jason.”

He’s tired. Really tired. All this sleep he’s been getting can’t be healthy because pulling an all-nighter didn’t used to be this challenging.

Darcy whines and gives him the big sorrowful puppy dog eyes that never fail to melt Tim’s heart. How anyone can say no to this dog is beyond him. If it weren’t for the fact that most people thought he was a pitbull mix at the pound, he’d probably have been adopted sooner.

“You’re a big baby.” Tim yanks at his blanket. More of it needs to be over his shoulders and not pooled around his waist where the dog has made a nest from it.

“I can’t believe you let him walk all over you like this.”

Tim looks up to find Jason leaning in the hall entrance. Apparently, his battle over the blankets caught his attention. “I do no such thing.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Come on. The bed’s big enough for all three of us.”

No. No no no no no. This has been what Tim’s resisted most from the moment they moved in together last month. Living with the man that he’s finally acknowledged to himself that he has a crush on is painful enough. Sleeping beside him is a whole different ballgame.

“It’ll be okay,” Tim says, trying to find an out. “If you can just get Darcy in there, that should be fine.”

Jason is already shaking his head. “He whines at the door to be let out. Get your ass in there. Or are you afraid I’ll smother you in your sleep?”

Tim would almost prefer it if it means he can escape what are likely to be some very awkward morning boners. “I starfish in my sleep.”

“What does that mean?”

“I tend to sprawl out. There’s a reason my bed at home is a king.”

Jason runs a hand through his hair and yawns. “We’ll fuckin’ deal with it if you start kickin’ me. Now, get in there and go the fuck to sleep.”

“I want to state for the record that this is a bad idea,” Tim comments as he stands. Darcy ever so helpfully jumps off the sofa, freeing the blanket.

“Noted.”

~*~*~

The case drags out for three months, two of which Tim finds himself sharing a bed with Jason. And Darcy, because the dog somehow manages to sleep between the two of them on his beach towel.

In the end, Jason not only manages to figure out the supply route, but also where he needs to head next.

“Montreal is not where I expected this case to go,” Tim says one evening as they’re eating dinner. “But it’s not entirely surprising. Canada has a pretty similar problem.”

Jason nods thoughtfully. “I’m sure I’ll end up in China at some point, but the base of this particular supply line seems to end there.”

“Well, my Mandarin is a bit rusty, but if you need help, gimme a call.”

“I will. And don’t think I’ve forgotten what a massive favor you’ve done for me with all of this.” Jason gestures to the house around them and the home it really has become.

Tim frowns and glances down at Darcy, who’s waiting ever so patiently for any crumbs or slivers of meat that may fall to the floor. “Yeah, about all this… Umm… I really don’t care about the house, but… I don’t want to give up that overgrown lapdog.”

Jason smiles fondly at the dog. “Neither do I. You’ve got the space at your apartment, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m busy. Face of WE and all that crap.” Tim scowls and leans down to rub behind Darcy’s floppy ear. The dog’s tail thumps loudly against the flooring. “He needs more attention than I can give him on my own.”

“Well, I can always stop by. To help.” Jason’s gaze darts away in a brief flash of uncertainty that Tim hasn’t seen since that neighborhood barbeque they went to last month where they had to act like the married couple they’ve been pretending to be. Holding hands was enough to make Jason’s ears turn red, although he tried passing it off as too much sun.

Tim narrows his eyes, a suspicion rising in the pits of his heart that almost feels suspiciously like hope. Before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches out and takes Jason’s hand.

Cue the red ears. And a faint flush that reveals a slight scattering of freckles over his cheeks.

“What?” Jason asks, clearly startled by Tim just randomly holding his hand. He looks everywhere but at him.

“Jason,” Tim says slowly, carefully because he really doesn’t want to be wrong. “You do know you can come by my apartment to see me, too. I wouldn’t mind at all.”

He doesn’t let go of Jason’s hand.

“I… uh… Are you sure?” There’s that insecurity again, but Jason’s giving him a hopeful look, one that makes him appear so much younger than he is.

Tim raises their joined hands to his mouth and presses a kiss onto the scarred knuckles. There’s no mistaking the heat that flares in Jason’s eyes. “I’d love it if you did. Perhaps we can take Darcy out together. Have a cup of coffee somewhere.”

“Yes!” Jason all but shouts, then blushes harder as Tim chuckles over his enthusiasm. “Fuck, we kinda went at this ass-backwards, didn’t we?”

“Well, this is actually one of the longest relationships I’ve ever had, but it’s also the first one where I haven’t gone on a real date. How about we fix that before you go to Montreal?”

Jason nods, then bites his bottom lip. “Umm, does that mean I can’t kiss you until after the first date?”

“Hell, no.” Tim pushes their mostly empty dinner plates to the side and seats himself on the counter. He tugs Jason to his feet and the taller man slots himself between Tim’s parted thighs in a way that he can’t wait to explore in more explicit detail later.

Their mouths meet, hesitantly at first as Tim lets Jason set the pace, then harder as Jason’s confidence grows.

Jason moans against Tim’s mouth as he tugs lightly on the short hairs at the back of his neck. The moan quickly turns into a groan as Darcy launches himself up from the floor, whining and barking as he tries to get in on the action.

Tim starts to laugh, even as the dog manages to get his front paws up on the counter. “I hope he doesn’t do this all the time.”

“Something tells me he’s going to be a worse cockblock than Dick.”

[buoyantsaturn]

We Are The Reckless (1/1)

summary: “Nico was here,” Will told him. “Can’t you smell him?”

“Will,” Piper said, pointing to the ground at Will’s feet. “You’re standing over a fairy circle.”

“Fairy--” Will’s eyes widened as he glanced down, spotting a wide ring of mushrooms and discolored grass in front of him. “But that means…”

word count: 2827

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After school each day, the wolves would head into the woods to train while Nico went to work at the cafe across town. Nico worked the closing shift for the most part, since the only weekday hours he could manage were from the end of the school day to the seven o’clock close. Will hated that they couldn’t spend very much time together during the week, but they made up for it by bingeing on the cafe’s leftover pastries that Nico would get for free at the end of the day.

He was supposed to meet up with the rest of the pack after his shift, so Will had been checking the time like crazy, waiting for his mate to arrive so that he could wrap Nico up in his arms and not let him go.

It was 7:21 according to Will’s watch when he finally noticed a spike in Nico’s scent - he could always smell his mate no matter how far away they were from each other, but he could still smell the slight change in scent as Nico grew closer. Will jumped to his feet with a cry of, “Nico’s here!” before hurrying toward the edge of the clearing they were in.

He tripped after a moment, stumbling to a halt and feeling suddenly like something had been ripped out of him. Nico’s scent was gone. He hadn’t turned around and walked back the way he’d come, and there was nothing masking him. He simply disappeared. Will felt broken, hollow.

“What happened?” Piper asked. “I thought I could smell him, did he go home instead, or something?”

“He’s gone,” Will whispered, and a whine slipped from his throat. Without another second of hesitation, he took off in search of Nico’s scent, running in the direction he’d last smelled his mate. He’d almost reached the edge of the woods before someone grabbed his arm and stopped him from going another step forward.

“Will, stop!” Frank shouted, yanking him back.

“Nico was here,” Will told him. “Can’t you smell him?”

“Will,” Piper said, pointing to the ground at Will’s feet. “You’re standing over a fairy circle.”

“Fairy--” Will’s eyes widened as he glanced down, spotting a wide ring of mushrooms and discolored grass in front of him. “But that means…”

Jason set a hand on his shoulder. “We have to tell Bianca. She deserves to know what’s going on.”

Will wanted to run inside and hide himself under the blankets on Nico’s bed, surround himself with Nico’s scent so that he could pretend this wasn’t happening - that Nico wasn’t missing.

Jason insisted they knock on the door and wait for an answer. He wasn’t about to let his pack break into the house of a cop.

The door opened after a few moments, though it wasn’t Bianca on the other side.

“Frank!” came a high-pitched cry, and before Will could tell who it was, Frank had already been tackled. “I missed you so much!”

“Hazel?” Frank said softly, wrapping his arms around the younger girl. He pulled them both back to their feet and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“My mom let me visit for spring break,” Hazel said, though her smile dimmed when her eyes scanned each member of the group before her. “What are you doing here? Where’s Nico?”

Another whine escaped Will’s throat.

“We don’t know,” Jason told her calmly, though Will didn’t understand how he wasn’t panicking at a time like this. “We came to tell Bianca so that she wasn’t left in the dark, but we think he stepped in a fairy circle, and now he’s gone.”

“A fairy circle?” Hazel repeated. “I mean, I guess it could be worse, right?”

“Worse? He’s missing!” Will snapped, and immediately felt guilty for the outburst.

“Like, at least it’s only fairies,” Hazel said. “It could be something monstrous and deadly. Fairies can’t do that much damage.”

“What do you know about fairies?” Piper asked. “How can you assume so much?”

“Oh! Well, I’ve been studying up since I...left,” Hazel answered. “I don’t know if I’ve been getting accurate information on anything, but I’ve certainly learned a lot about fairies. Do y’all want to see what I know?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Frank said, and Hazel slipped her hand into his before leading everyone inside. She dropped onto the couch, pulling Frank down with her and opening up the laptop that was sitting on the coffee table. She explained where she’d gathered her many different sources as Will found his seat in an armchair, hugging a pillow close to his chest and inhaling the faint smell of Nico.

After Hazel finished discussing the basics of fairies - that they were peaceful from what she’d read, and that iron was their greatest weakness, as well as a few other things - she said, “So with fairy circles, the only safe way to investigate them is to walk around them nine times. There’s a few different reasons for this, but the main one is that it should confuse the fairies for a moment. That should give you the opportunity to get through the circle and find Nico.”

“That sounds...surprisingly easy,” Piper commented. “Why did I think fairies were, like, cannibals or something? Like, they would eat us if we got too close.”

Hazel frowned. “I did see something like that once, but there really wasn’t anything to back it up. They’re territorial and will threaten anything supernatural that gets in their way, but they seem pretty easy to run off. Anything not supernatural is usually ignored, but Nico probably smells like werewolves after hanging around all y’all all the time.”

“They’re not gonna hurt him, right?” Will asked. “You said they’ll just threaten him. Not hurt him.”

“They should only attack if he attacks first, and I’m sure he’s smart enough not to do that,” Hazel replied.

“So, what are we waiting for?” Jason asked. “We should go back to the woods now and go get him.”

“That’s actually the problem. Humans and other non-magical species can go through the fairy circle’s portal at any time because there’s no magical resistance, but y’all can only go through at certain times,” Hazel explained. “Your next chance should be in two days, during the new moon.”

“Two days?” Will exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “We can’t wait that long! We have to find Nico right now!”

Jason stood and got in between Will and Hazel, standing as a protective barrier for the girl. “Will, I need you to calm down. You’re not keeping your emotions in check, which can be incredibly dangerous, especially for you.” Will started to protest, but Jason cut him off. “I know we’re talking about your mate, and I know that it’s driving you crazy that we don’t know where he is, but you will survive without him for the next two days.”

Will waited for a second to see if Jason would continue before trying to speak again. “But what if he doesn’t survive?”

“What if who doesn’t survive?” Bianca’s voice came from the front of the house, slamming the door behind herself as she walked inside. “Where is Nico?”

Jason spun around to face her. “He’s...um--”

Bianca held up her hand, stopping him, and pulled her phone out of her pocket with the other hand.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Frank asked when nobody else did for a moment.

“I’m tracking his phone,” Bianca answered. “I’m going to find him before whatever stupid stunt you’ve all pulled gets him sent to the hospital - or worse.”

“Bia, we’ve already got it figured out,” Hazel told her.

Bianca took a deep breath, pausing her furious tapping on her phone to say, “Hazel, I don’t want you getting mixed up in all of this like Nico did. Go to your room.”

“What? No!”

“Hazel,” Bianca said again, but cut herself off with a growl aimed at her phone. “Why isn’t this working?”

“You can’t find him, right?” Hazel asked. “It’s the magic. He was taken by fairies and there’s only one way to track him and get him back.”

Bianca shot a glare at Will before turning her focus back to Jason. “If you don’t find him soon, I will hunt you like the monster you are. Bring him back to me in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Will had been in a nonstop panic since Nico disappeared. He’d never gone so long without being able to smell Nico in some way, and even the few things of Nico’s that Will had were starting to lose his scent. He didn’t think he would be able to function during the rescue mission that night - either he would finally break down after having gone so long without his mate nearby or he would see Nico again and immediately forget their entire plan of rescue and escape.

Jason had collected various iron objects for them to use as weapons against the fairies, should they need them. The wolves all met up in the clearing where they would normally train so that they could go over their plan one last time as the sun set. Once the forest was completely dark around them, they set off for the fairy circle.

“Alright,” Jason said once they were all standing near one edge of the ring. “Hazel said to walk around it nine times.” He took a fire poker from his stash of iron weapons and drove it into the ground next to him. “This will be our marker for each lap. Don’t step inside the circle prematurely and don’t miscount. Hazel also said that ten laps or more can have the opposite effect, like we’re taunting them. Let’s get going, for Nico.”

Jason led the way as the wolves all walked nine laps around the ring of mushrooms before stopping at the same point that they’d started. Jason ripped the fire poker from the ground before gesturing for each of them to step into the circle at the same time.

In a second, they were all transported to what looked like a completely different forest. The moon shone full overhead, and the trees towered overhead unlike the short pines that covered their hometown. The area was lit up by tiny torches, just the right size for a fairy to carry around, and the fires seemed to draw focus to what appeared to be the largest, oldest tree in the area. Chained to the base of the tree was Nico’s limp body.

“Nico!” Will exclaimed, drawing the attention of every fairy nearby. He ducked as the rest of the wolves were swarmed in an attack, and ripped the fire poker out of Jason’s grasp before crawling across the forest floor toward his mate.

Will grabbed at the shackles around Nico’s wrists and ankles but his hands burned at the touch of silver. Instead, he cupped Nico’s cheeks in his hands and tried to wake him, tapping his cheeks lightly and calling his name, though he didn’t react. Will pressed a palm to Nico’s chest and felt for a heartbeat. Weak, but there, as was his breathing. Will reached for the fire poker and used it to break the chains holding Nico to the tree.

He managed to free Nico’s right arm and leg before feeling something sting the back of his neck. He swatted at it but appeared to miss, and heard a hissing voice in his ear cry out, “Werewolf! Interloper! Stealing our sacrifice!”

Will picked up the fire poker again and swung at the fairy like a baseball. He hurried to free Nico’s other arm and leg, already feeling kind of woozy from the sting - which, he realized shortly, must have been some kind of paralytic or sleep-inducing bite. He felt himself growing dizzy, and knew that in only a few moments he would be in the same state as Nico.

He scooped up his mate, trying his hardest to ignore the burning silver still wrapped around Nico’s wrists that pressed against Will’s abdomen, and ran as fast as he could back to the fairy circle where the other wolves were defending their exit. Will dove for the ring of mushrooms, and as soon as he hit the ground he was back in the familiar woods that he knew as home.

Nico woke up groggy and thirsty. He was barely blinking his eyes open before he registered Bianca’s voice, yelling at him for something and suddenly crying and hugging him without any prompting.

“I’m sorry,” Bianca whispered in his ear. “I wish I could protect you better.”

“What’s happening?” Nico croaked. Bianca handed him a cup of water as someone knocked on the door.

“That’s probably Hazel,” she said. “She can probably explain better what really happened. I’ll be right back.” Bianca squeezed his hand before crossing the room and opening the door with a, “What the hell are you doing here? Who told you we were here?”

It took Nico a few moments to realize that she couldn’t have been talking to Hazel. Then, Percy Jackson was walking into the room.

“You two know each other?” Nico asked with a frown.

“Oh, yeah, Bianca and I go way back,” Percy answered, grinning at Bianca who was glaring back at him. “She was the first human in the pack.”

“Percy,” Bianca snapped, though she sighed when she realized that there was no going back. “I-- Yes, I was part of the pack, just like you are now, Nico. But I realized that it was dangerous, and--”

“Oh, come on, don’t lie to him,” Percy said. “You loved the pack, you probably would’ve taken the bite, too, if I’d offered it sooner.”

Bianca looked embarrassed, something that Nico wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on his sister before. “But then real life got in the way, remember? Nico, I had to take care of you and Hazel. I had to leave the pack when Mom died, because my other option was abandoning you, and I couldn’t do that. It was hard enough losing Hazel to her own mother. I had to learn to be responsible, like you do now. They’ve taken enough from you, Neeks--”

“Are they here?” Nico asked.

“No, I told them to go home,” Bianca said at the same time that Percy said, “Yeah, they’re all in the waiting room.”

Bianca shot a glare at Percy.

“There’s a very anxious blond out there who must be new to the pack,” Percy continued, ignoring the glare. “I don’t recognize him, so he must be Jason’s, right? Glad he’s finally making the pack his own without me. Anyway, I’ll go let them know that you’re awake.”

He left the room, and as soon as the door was shut, Bianca growled in frustration. “He’s infuriating. I don’t know how I ever enjoyed spending time with him.”

“Because it’s pack,” Nico said. “That’s what it’s supposed to be like.”

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Well, I wish it wasn’t, just so that you would cut it out and leave them already. You and Hazel. Your little stunt got her dragged into all of this, too, you know.”

“She was in the pack before she moved out,” Nico said. “And I think she has a thing for Frank. So you won’t be able to get her to leave, either.”

Bianca sighed. “Isn’t there at least some way that you can stay out of danger? I thought we had a deal.”

“I know, Bia, but whatever this was, I think it was an accident. Nobody’s fault,” Nico told her. “Sorry I got kidnapped, or whatever. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

Bianca snorted, finally allowing herself a second of relief at seeing her brother safe and sarcastic as ever. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Nico said, and Bianca leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead just as the door flew open.

Hazel ran to his side, knocking Bianca out of the way and hugging him as tight as she dared in his current weakened state. “Oh, Nico, I’m so glad you’re okay! Next time, could you get kidnapped when I’m not here to visit you?”

“Sorry,” Nico said with a huff of laughter.

Will was at his other side, lacing his fingers with Nico’s as much as he could around the bandages he had covering his hand.

“Hey.” Nico frowned, lifting up Will’s hand so that he could get a look at the bandages. “What did you do?”

“Saved you from being some kind of ritual fairy sacrifice,” Will told him softly. “They tied you up with silver, probably smelled wolf on you and thought that would keep you locked up. They underestimated me.” Will shrugged one shoulder before darting down and pressing a light kiss to Nico’s lips. He dragged himself up so that he could bury his nose in Nico’s hair and breathe in the smell of his mate. “I missed you so much,” he sighed.

buy me a coffee | more about solangelo week

[thewollfgang]

36!!

woah nonnie this gets REALLY SAD just fyi also i’m combining your prompt with @theleafpile​ ‘s idea so here’s some sadness

36. “I wish I could hate you.”

Lucifer can feel her. He can always feel her, distance nor time nor Hell ever being enough to stop that. Her life force flickers like a candle at the edge of his senses. It’s time. No matter how much he wishes it wasn’t, there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

He spreads his wings, large and gossamer, and flies up.

Her spark, once bright and blazing, gutters like a flame in the wind, but it’s still strong enough to draw him to her exact location. He steps into her hospital room and quietly closes the door behind himself. Chloe is sleeping, chest rising and falling slowly.

She’s changed. Of course, she has. Being a miracle did not exempt her from the workings of Time. Her skin is delicate and thin, her hair has gone a silver-white, lines sit heavy on her face. She’s still beautiful. He reaches out to touch, but pulls back at last second.

“Hey, buddy, I think you’ve got the wrong room.”

Lucifer turns to see a middle-aged man step inside, looking at him in confusion.

“Jason? What’s going on?” a voice that sounds vaguely familiar says, and a woman steps inside and sees him.

“Lucifer!” she cries and throws herself against him. Her head reaches his chest, her arms thread around his waist. He remembers when he had to carefully angle his hips to protect his more tender spots from being bludgeoned and her hands wrapping around his leg.

“Beatrice,” he murmurs, and presses her tightly.

Trixie pulls back to look at him, and her eyes are the same, sparkling and mischievous. “I knew you would come,” she tells him. She is a woman grown, self possessed and beautiful. He feels a brief pang of sympathy for Daniel. His stories of unworthy suitors now suddenly understandable.

“Your father sends his greetings,” Lucifer says, clearing his throat and stepping back. At Trixie’s furrowed eyebrows, he explains. “Your father was a good man, but he did some bad things, darling. He’s lucky I am back on the throne, I wasn’t about to let him waste away in his Room when I could have him by my side.”

More like he couldn’t abide my Daniel reliving Palmetto again and again, but with his reflexes a fraction to slow to save Chloe. Lucifer wouldn’t wish watching Chloe die over and over on anyone. He’s not even sure he can bear it the once, yet, here he stands.

Lucifer shifts awkwardly. “Mazikeen also bid me to give you her regards.”

Trixie grins, wide and familiar. “You’ll tell them that I love them, won’t you?” She squeezes his arm.

“Of course, darling,” Lucifer replies.

“I’m sorry. Trixie, who is this?” The man steps forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is my husband, Jason. Jason? This is -”

“Lucifer.”

They all turn towards Chloe, who only has eyes for the devil. She awake and cracks a grin, despite her labored breathing. “How long have I been out?”

He huffs out a wet laugh. “Not nearly as long for you than for me, I’m afraid. Time in Hell crawls at a terribly slow pace, you know.”

“You ass.” She smacks him lightly. Her smile fades. “I’ve missed you.” She holds her hand out for his and he instantly obliges, taking a seat at her bedside.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He presses a kiss to the dry palm of her hand. “Not a day went by that I wasn’t thinking of you, darling.”

“I wish I could hate you, but we both knew you had to go.” She gives him a sad smile. “If you’re here, then…that must mean…” her eyes go glassy with unshed tears.

He nods, and grips her hand harder.

“Don’t leave me,” she says, sounding scared. “Please.”

“I won’t. I promise,” he swears, voice fervent. They both ignore the way it shakes.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

“No.” She knows that when he says it, it’s the truth. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”

She nods and sits further back against her pillows, some otherworldly peace having come over her at his words.

“Mom,” Trixie says, tears tracking silently down her face. She takes Chloe’s other hand.

“It’s okay, baby. Everything’s gonna be alright.” She allows Chloe to brush fingers through her hair, tucking it behind Trixie’s ear. “You’re going to be just fine. You’ve made me so proud, you know that? Stay strong.”

Trixie nods, but her tears come on faster. Jason puts an arm around her and pulls her into his side.

Chloe passes on in her sleep. The slow pumping of her heart falters and stops. The bright spark fights it for a moment, but then untethers itself. Lucifer gets to his feet. He cards a hand through Chloe’s silver tresses, places a kiss to her forehead.

Then he reaches out on the metaphysical plane and gently tugs that light into his chest, where it will be safe and no one else could reach it. He’ll escort Chloe to the Silver City himself. He wakes Trixie, murmurs softly to her. She gives way to sobs. He wraps Trixie into a tight hug and Chloe’s presence surges up between them, warm and loving. Trixie’s tears slow and she stares in awe.

He wonders if she can see it, her mother’s light, pressed up against his heart.

“Take good care of her,” Trixie commands, her words firm.

“I will.” It rings like a solemn oath between them. He pushes a kiss onto the top of Trixie’s head and unfurls his wings, flight feathers spreading in anticipation. With a great and mighty flap - he’s gone.

Lucifer reaches Heaven easily, slipping into the realm of his birth like it was an old suit jacket. Familiar but ill-fitting. He releases Chloe, even as part of him desperately wants to keep her there, where she’s safe behind the cage of his ribs. But there’s no freedom in that.

The light takes shape, then suddenly manifests and Chloe standing before him, hale and whole. She looks almost as she did when he first met her, eyes bright and wicked, skin smooth and young. She looks down at herself in surprise, then looks up at him, and grins.

Then she’s striding closer, grabbing at his neck to pull him down for a kiss so sinful it has no place here in the Silver City. He groans and steadies her, returning the favor until he is sure his Father’s wrath will fall upon them for such desecration. Finally, Lucifer drags himself away from her, breathing harshly.

“Chloe,” he croaks.

“Lucifer,” she replies, with a hint of a whine, trying to use her tiptoes to reach him.

One of his brothers has left his position beside the Gates to join them with a few beat of his wings. It’s Sabriel, dark haired and wings that look like they’ve been dipped in ink. He lands near them and steps forward, smiling kindly.

“Hello, brother.”

Lucifer blinks in surprise at the lack of hostility. “Hello, Sabriel.”

“Chloe Decker,” Sabriel says, face friendly. “You’ve had a long journey. Please, come inside.”

She starts to move forward, past him, but halts when she realizes Lucifer is not coming with her.

“This is as far as I can go,” he tells her quietly, feeling like his heart is breaking all over again, like he’s being rent in two. It’s somehow more awful than the first time he had to leave her. “I’m not allowed past the Gates.”

“Come this way, child. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” Sabriel says.

Chloe hesitates, looks like she’s thinking deeply on something, the same look she would get when she was working out a lead on a case. Finally, she decides and steps back to Lucifer’s side. She threads her fingers through his.

He looks down at their entangled hands in shock before raising to meet her eyes. She looks at him with mulish determination, then faces his brother.

“You’ll have to keep waiting, then, because I’m not going inside.”

“Chloe,” Lucifer protests.

“No,” she says, eyes sparking. She grips him tighter. “I want to go with you.”

His wings flex in distress. “Hell is no place for someone -”

“You will not take my choices from me, Lucifer.”

Because there is no freedom in that.

Sabriel seems remarkably unconcerned for losing a soul soon to be in his charge. Could it really be that simple? Could he just take her and go?

Lucifer faces her, eyes dark and serious. “Your father is here, your mother.”

“You’re not,” she replies, like that’s all that matters.

“What of your daughter?”

Chloe goes quiet at that. “I lived a whole lifetime with her, Lucifer. I watched her grow up, become an adult. I saw her get married, I saw her have a child of her own. I will miss her, but she’s living her own life now. Take me back with you.”

She stares at him, unwavering. Terror spills over him like ice, even as hope blooms in his chest.

“Are you certain?”

“I am.” She squeezes his hand.

“Very well.” Lucifer looks at Sabriel, who only smiles mysteriously and inclines his head. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to attempt to stop them.

Lucifer tugs her against him, lifts his wings, and flies.

[satire-please]

My Teeth are like Swords - Part 2

Summary: (I’m tired and can’t transfer this in a way to keep my italics in dang it.) Tim is a detective...who lives with detectives. The other Bat's start noticing something different about one of their own. And Tim realizes that he can't hide forever.

Part 1

Dragon Tim on Ao3

Like finding gold dust on a blood moon, there are times Tim will hear about his Mother. It’s difficult to encounter another drake, they’re too rare, too widely spread that it’s a miracle that Tim has met two. But it’s always a surprise to hear that Janet Drake is considered a romantic, sentimental imbecile to other dragonfolk.

To mate with a human is one thing, but to shift and willingly live beside them in their pitiful metal ant hills? Preposterous.

And to carry young on that state? Inside of their own bodies instead of in a proper shell as hard as diamonds? Unheard of.

What foolish unnecessary risks.

Tim felt his core bubble in warmth whenever he hears such slander. That Mother would care that much. Once, he did approached her on the subject.

“I spent many centuries as a upstanding, model drake.”Janet sniffed disdainfully, steering Tim from a fuming man at one of Gotham’s many galas. The drake from the east is starting to show, smoke passing from his nose uncontrollably. How embarrassing, her Timothy showed more restraint when he was three. “Now I find it much more valuable of my time to do as I please. Besides, the fact remains that my line will continue to endure and adapt unlike most bloodlines that will taste stone and dust.”

Tim summed it up to, ‘I do what I want. Leave me alone or burn.’

She glanced behind her to give the man a subtle sneer. What a fool to think that she would accept such an inadequate betrothal for her son. And, to add insult to injury, the man’s daughter hadn’t even bothered to present herself. “A dragon is a dragon, Timothy. It doesn't matter if you are half, a quarter or only possess a single drop of our blood. Magic doesn't care. It will still take, you will still shift, you will still fly. And if those incessant pathetic hair ribbons say anything different, show them there are still ways to make a dragon fry.”

Tim loved his Mother.

It’s...a shame he’s the only one who knew how she died.

And it wasn’t from that stupid water Obeah left, no matter how traditional to dragon slaying poison is. True it weakened her to the point of inducing a death-like coma, but if Tim lifted an eyelid the iris would still flash and respond. If Tim pressed his hand to her chest, he’d still feel the hint of fire tucked within.

Robbing the cemetery had been a pain though. It’s not like he could just tell Dad that, ‘Um hey, mother’s not dead. No, I know she seems like she’s dead. Yes, I know she doesn’t have a pulse, but you see–’

Yeah, not happening.

He abused his connections for a nice cave carved out of the cliff face next to the manor. It’s not like Mr. Wayne was using it. It could be accessed from the rocky beach if necessary, the entrance tight until you were a couple meters in. Then it stretched enough for his mother’s body to shift unconsciously, so the dragon could heal and sleep in peace.

Tim had thought it was perfect.

It didn’t matter much in the end.

Not when Mother finally woke and could smell Tim’s lie about Dad. Not when she stopped eating. The young teen would find, hunt, and drag dead deer and antelope into the cave only to rot around her body as she stared emptily at the stone walls. She waited for death. Nothing could change her mind...no matter how much he begged and pleaded.

“Please!” He stroked her rough eyelid, thoughts racing for any excuse for her to stay with him. To not leave him alone. “Isn’t there something you still have to teach me?”

His hand falls away as a lazy violet eye cracks open. It’s bigger than his head and the pupil focuses so achingly slow. “You’ve known all since you turned twelve, my pet. Our race never repeats themselves, not with memories like ours.”

“B-But I need–”

“You have my hoard, you will not go without means. You have my brain, you will do well and even thrive. You have a territory, a perfect environment for your future form and most of all you possess a purpose to keep your heart beating. Even if it is as ridiculous as looking after those silly humans. I am satisfied...now let me die in peace.”

“No please, m-mother, stay with me.”

“Oh, my darling. One day you will understand. Our love...is a terrible thing.”

And with that she stopped responding. Tim reasoned, screamed, cried while the reflection of his distraught face became clear in those unblinking glassy eyes. His throat raw as he hit and scratched uselessly at the black scales going grey, like the ashy rock dripping behind them until the camouflage of her skin was truth and she was stone.

Like all dragons when they die.

That’s how Timothy Drake inherited Gotham, sobbing on his knees as the refuge became a crypt.

It takes several years before Tim raids another grave...his father’s.

After all, Mother would appreciate his skeleton crystallizing next to hers. She would have liked that.

Timothy still loves his Mother.

**

It's a slow night and Jason’s gonna explode. He's stopped four muggings, seven car thefts, and a couple of kids trying to make a molotov cocktail. Okay, Jason felt bad at stopping the last one, come on what is he turning into? A twitchy cop? Geez, let kids be kids and fuck the police. He’s about to shoot his own damn foot for some excitement when he sees something in the corner of his eye as he hits the next roof.

Oh-ho? In the curve of hanging gargoyles menacingly scowling at those is a hint of red that tugs a smirk on Hood’s lips.

Replacement.

Well, alright, he hasn't meant that name in a bad way for a while. It's not like Jay wants to carve a new one in Mr. Serious anymore. Sure, he’s an annoying prude with the biggest stick up his ass, hangin’ off Bats’ every word like the good guard dog, the good tool he is, but, hey, he ain't a bad guy. Saved Jay from enough pinches that he feels right and guilty about the whole almost bleedin’ him out thing. So he makes it up the only way he can..with tough love. Plus, the more Jay can shake that Babybird nice and loose, the better. He takes in the former Robin’s figure, how he’s hunched in upon himself. His head of black resting on his knees as the crouch tucks him right under one of the silent stone guardians.

Babybird snoozing on the job? Have some shame.

Not that Jay has any of that. He barely stops himself from snickering, giving himself away when the helmet goes static for it, and creeps closer. Close enough to get the best view of the little shit’s face. It takes a Bat to sneak up on a Bat, you know. A grin spreads wide on his cheeks as he pulls his gun from his holster (it’s only rubber bullets now, calm the fuck down) Then, he aims to the sky and fires.

The crack of the bullet gives Jay the most beautiful flinch and jerk you ever did see–

Boom.

–but the returning blast of burning hot possible death that floods the ledge is not.

It takes every scrap of speed he has to not singe his fucking eyebrows off. It’s more fire than force, but thank Batman for quick reflexes and the tell tale click near Red.

“What the hell, Babybird?” Smoke billows, curling around the two and Jason coughs, waving his arms madly.

“I could say the same for you, asshole.” In the black mess, a spark sputters between Tim’s teeth, just like an annoying lighter that flickers and hurts your thumb the more you try, as he tries to control his shaky breathing. Inhale. Damn, that really startled him. Exhale. His fangs sink into his lower lip, drawing blood over the rude awakening. He shakes his head like a dog, forcing what was sharp canines into blunt square human teeth. “Gunshot really? Gosh, you always have to be a dick, don’t you?”

“Do you always have to throw something flashy when ya wake up? Ain’t that Robin’s way?” Jason brushes his clothes, disgruntled. He didn’t see a flash grenade or anything, but Bats right? More prepared than a Girl Scout.

“Maybe.” Tim wonders how long he’s going to get convenient excuses.

“What? Ya sleep with them or something? Didn’t know ya needed a teddy bear, Replacement.”

Tim smirked, “Oh, come on, Hood, didn’t you learn to let sleeping dragons lie?”

“Ha, ha. Whatever, call it a night, you pyromaniac piece of shit.” Jason puts his gun away and fishes for a peace offering under his collar. He thrusts the white cigarette at the other, “Smokes?”

“Not right now, Hood.”

“Your loss, Replacement.” Jason lights it, dragging a puff to cover up a pout. Hmpf, stuffy princess. Doesn’t drink with him (I’m not legal to drink, Jason). Never smokes with him (We have set an example to Damian, Jason). Jay should be offended cause nowadays Tim carries the hazy scent round like a club’s perfume and Jay knows he’s hiding the good stuff somewhere.

He’s just never seen Tim do it.

Tim observes the turn of Jason’s mouth and jerks his head towards the street below, “Not smokes, but you hungry enough for hotdogs?”

“This is Gotham, baby, when I am ever not down for hotdogs?”

The two shoot their grappling lines towards a vendor who’s too used to this shit to give one. But as Tim rattles off their order, something itches at Jason. Something that’s off.

(The Gargoyle they left above bares new marks along its side. The side that Jason couldn’t see. They were not chiseled in, but Tim is sure most wouldn’t notice the new additions.)

Whatever.

He’ll figure it out.

**

Timmy’s been sleeping more.

Dick is so grateful he wipes at an imaginary tear, sniffs, and whips out his phone to snap a picture again. Tim doesn’t snore, but that’s definite drool on his chin, nicccccccce. Dick takes in the scene and gets another shot from a different angle. He almost has a full album now titled, Behold the Cryptid Sleeps, it’s only fair after all the pictures Tim took of them when he was their cutest little stalker. For now, Dick just calls it karma and texts Babs to back the good stuff up.

But, okay, Dick admits it’s starting to get weird.

And Timmy’s sleeping habits have always been weird. Before he had stolen Bruce’s crown and title of Sleep Dep King. Working on case after case, day after day only to finally pass out, usually with something like,

“How many days does it take to start hallucinating again, Bruce?”

“...Three.”

“Huh, so that’s why you’re purple with seven eyes.”

It usually takes a lot to get Timmy to crash and burn into a bed, usually (always) in the form of Alfred and good food laced with sedatives. It’s not that Timmy doesn’t know that they’re in the food, it’s just that no one says no to Alfred Pennyworth. No one.

But now it’s like Tim is on an egg timer and it’s wonderful.

After about 24 or 26 hours, against his will, Timmy starts swaying on his feet and lurches grumpily towards a safe, soft spot to snooze. True, Dick notes sometimes they’re odd places, like underneath the desk of the bat computer, nestled in much of the wiring. Or head resting on the kitchen table, his angry eyes drooping with, “I don’t understand. Coffee has failed me, Alfred.”

“Our bodies change over time, Master Timothy. One cannot expect caffeine to sustain them forever.”  

“You’re...lying. You did something to the coffee, admit it!”

“I have not...this time.”

“You must have I...can’t even–” But Tim doesn’t get to finish the response.

“Master Dick I believe Master Timothy needs to be escorted to his room. If you would–” Alfred leaves the sentence open, because anytime Dick can hold an unconscious, not struggling brother? You know he’s all over that.

Bruce has even started to prioritize breaks in the patrol schedule for Tim. Or, to be more accurate, he’s encouraging (enforcing) Tim to use the breaks that have always been there.

But…really the switch in the dynamic is kinda odd, especially when Dick finds Tim on one of the Manor’s couches after patrol, his skin paler than milk and shivering in his sleep. When the room is set to 75 degrees��.and he’s under at least five blankets.

Dick pads over and cups the younger vigilante face in two hands. “Holy Batman, Timmy, you're as cold as ice.” His brow furrows when Tim barely responds to the statement, his eyes half open to blurrily peer at Dick. That’s not a good sign. Plus, he’s is not kidding. Tim’s skin is cool to the touch, it could compete with one of the dripping stalagmites in the cave.

“S’cold Dick…and tired.” The words push out of his lips clumsily. He raises his arms to grasp the Dick’s wrists as if he was going to push the hands off his cheek and then just forgot. The heat’s too inviting. “Just need sleep, m’fine.”

“I think you're a liar that lies, Babybird.” Dick leans back only to pull the covers off enough to slip beside Tim onto the couch. He tugs the boy in with an arm until Tim's head finds a comfy spot on his shoulder. Heck yeah, it's cuddle time. The best way to share body heat ever. He looks around the den and sees the remote for the T.V. It takes a few tries to stretch in a way to get it, especially without moving too far from Tim, but Dick’s not an acrobat for nothing.

Tim huffs a weary laugh against Dick’s neck, “Well, I'm the guy that lies to Batman, you know.”

“Shhhhhhh, he’ll hear you.” Dick pats Tim’s hair, starts clicking channel after channel (a thousand channels is just not enough) for something to watch.

“M’good, you can go.” Tim didn’t expect it would take so long for his core to normalize. Fire might smoulder under his breast, but damn it, it’s sucking most of the heat from his extremities. To his calculations, it may be months before his body can adjust to the change...if ever. Tim can already imagine the mountain of clothing he’ll need for Gotham’s winter. Mother got away with it by layering and calling in fashion. How is Tim going to spin it when he’s jumping off roof-tops fat with every wool item he can find? Oh. Or he could design heaters in his clothing. That could work. But still, this is the reason why most drakes live near volcanoes. Temperature regulation is a bitch.

Dick hums above him and breaks Tim’s line of thought. Oh well, he guesses he’ll stay here for a bit longer, just until he thaws out and stops being an Tim-icicle. It’s not that Dick minds, right? He fades away at the sound of a bad romantic comedy playing in the background.

He doesn’t see the frown on Dick’s face.

Or hear him quietly whisper into his com, “Alfred, could you run some tests for me?”

**

Alfred would have a conniption.

“Drake, you wretched slob.”

Damian must see to it that the competent butler never visits the former Robin. Ever. The man is old and truly must be spared from any health issues that may occur from witnessing this vile display of chaos. In fact, Damian wishes he could spare himself from the scene, yet Father did request him to fetch the evidence and Dick is off planet. How dare he.

Damian squints pass the entrance only to flinch back. There in the dark, two pinpricks of purple follow his every move...and hiss.

The Robin swallows and forces the door open all the way, allowing the dim light from the basement to flood the room. There are no light switches. It’s...odd. The boiler hums nearby explaining the heat that’s almost sweltering. Heaps of objects litter the floor, making narrow pathways here and there. Fortunately, food must be absent in the debris since the smell lacks rot. Instead what perfumes the air is what Damian associates with his predecessor, the smell of spices burned with a touch of something chemical. Gasoline, perhaps? Damian’s breathing finally evens out when he spots a mess of black hair poking out from a mountain of bedding.

Blearily, Tim focuses on the intruder. “Damian? What are you doing here?” he sleepily grumbles.

Though Grayson might find the tone endearing, Damian does not.

“I have come for the Spear of Enue. Father requires it and has requested me to retrieve it from you. He said it was in your possession?”

“B needs to leave my stuff alone.” Tim sits upright, staring emptily for a moment and clearly displeased about being awake. Then, with a groan he sluggishly works himself out of the bedding. “But a case is a case, I guess. Yeah, I have it, just give me a sec to get it.”

“The spear is here?”

A hum. “Sure, it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

Well, at least Drake seems more amenable when half-awake. Robin crosses his arms and strives not to look too haughty. Usually collecting data from the older vigilante takes more coaxing (threats) and persuasion (heavy bickering) to get the desired result. Perhaps he should lend his assistance.

“Drake, where are your lights? Two pairs of eyes would obviously be quicker than one.”

“Lights?” A confused tone. “Why would I need lights? I can see just fine.”

“Tch, I’m surprised you can locate anything in this outrageous dump.”

“Mother always said I was a messy hoarder, but I have a strong belief that mess is a matter of perspective. Besides, I know exactly where everything is.”

Tim slinks out of bed and makes his way toward a pile that seems to have earned the category of lethal and shiny weapons. Damian attempts to move towards the same direction, but his foot hits an item and he just manages to make the trip look intentional. Of course, Drake was not even looking. Wait.

“Drake, is that my katana?” He points to the hilt barely poking out from the bottom, half of the weapon slithering from under the bed.

It’s a silly habit that Tim can’t shake from childhood to put the most prized things under his bed, like the old cardboard box full of pictures, a few stacks of spanish golden doubloons marked from a toddler’s teething, a cursed ruby the size of a skull, you know the usual.

“...Yes?” Tim’s head bobs up from his search and glances over at the weapon. Then, he pauses for a moment or two, his expression shifting so fast (Mine, not mine, mine, not mine) that Damian cannot place it, “Oh, sorry. I guess you’d want that back. I mean, of course you do, it belongs to you, I only had it because you were gone and–”

Drake cuts off, making no movement towards the old katana. Damian reasons it must have been acquired while he was not among the living. He doesn’t know how to feel about Drake keeping that kind of memento, yet he notes there is a definite lack of rage that usually accompanies such a theft. In addition, Drake looks like a petulant child.

“It does not matter. I no longer require a child’s katana.” Damian waves a hand to the other heaps. “The spear, however, Drake, Father needs immediately.”  

“Right.”

It is then he notices Drake’s unusual attire. The vigilante groggily separates the pile for what Damian seeks in boxers and a baggy Gotham U sweatshirt that keeps sliding over a white shoulder. How peculiar, Drake never went to college so why...ah, yes, Dick. But what really has Damian’s brows rising is the two thick watches on Tim's wrist. One that he's definitely seen on his father once before and a glint of something shiny peeking from the sweatshirt.

“Do you often sleep in diamonds, Drake?”

“They're nice to look at before bed,” Tim muttered absentmindedly.

“Is that a slogan for this new fashion statement?” Damian walks over and curiously pulls down the collar to look at it more closely. Many of the gems are larger than an egg as they lace together in the metal filigree. It covers a wide band over Drake’s collarbones before cascading towards his sternum in delicate chains. “This piece is familiar to me. Drake, are these the jewels we recovered from Catwoman?”

“One, I demand the fundamental human right to always be pretty, witty, and gay. You’ll understand when you’re older. Two, I bought these from that auction fair and square, so Selina should have keep her mangy paws off them.”  

Suddenly, Damian remembers that specific tackle to take down the thief had been...more enthusiastic and vicious on Drake’s part. Usually Father is the one to handle any incidents with her, but perhaps all it takes is emotional investment to pin down the slippery woman.

Tim pries off Damian’s fingers only to press what he seeks in them. “Here, the spear. Now, get out. If you’re gonna mock and insult me, I want four more hours of sleep first.”  

The spear is heavy, but Damian manages with a tilt to this lips. “Very well, I’ll skin and eviscerate you later, Drake.”

Drake snorts. “And, hey, you have a spear and everything. All you have to do is be knighted and we’d have the perfect fairytale set up. Farewell, Sir Brat.” He waves to the door before collapsing onto the bed, preparing his nest the way he wants it.

Damian watches the ritual all the way to the door. Stops to take in the scene one a final time. It’s strange, but it does seem like a lair from one of his grandfather’s monster stories. Dark, warm like a breathing thing, full of hidden treasure...and danger.   

How right he is.

But he comes to the realization later...much later.

**

Bruce has seen a lot.

He’s fought aliens on ships millions of lightyears from Earth and tangled with kraken under the sea. He’s negotiated with Circe for Diana’s sake and fed viruses to ruin robot armies for Clark’s. He’s handled witches, sorcerers, and time-travellers from around the world. Every night he tries to plug one of Gotham’s bleeding holes as they gush out the vile and the crazy with the Joker, Ivy, Harvey, and more.

Bruce has seen a lot.

But the universe keeps surprising him one way or another. And sometimes? Closer to the heart then he expected.

“So, you’re the drake that rejected my proposal.”

“And you’re the dame that didn’t even bother to show up to make it.”

Bruces eyes flicker back and forth between his third son and the young, literally steaming woman in front of them. Her pale white hair whips behind her like something alive. The villain of the month does the same. Apparently, Gotham has the perfect waterfront property for the taking, especially with the leyline that cuts right through the city or so the warlock just finished monologuing about.

“What are you doing? I said destroy them.” The fuming sorcerer demands pointing at the Bat-clan. Golems rise in various stages around them being the only opponents beyond the man and woman. They’re all near the Manor by the beach, a few miles from the city but even with the home field advantage...Bruce feels a thread of concern to see Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian joining him to put their backs against the cliff face below his family home.

“Just a moment, Master, I have some unfinished business to attend to.” The woman raises a hand and starts to undo her cloak.

“Master? My, my.” Tim flicks his bo to the side. It’s not going to be useful here. Ugh, this is not how he wanted this to go. “Just how low has your line fallen? Mother was right to refuse to even consider you as a candidate. Do you follow his every command or do you just lick his boots?”

“How. Dare. You.” The woman’s eyes glow yellow and her voice’s pitch becomes grating.

Tim snorts. “Look at you. You can’t even control your shift….pathetic.”

“Red Robin, the situation, now.” Bruce tries striking another golem, but Tim ducks to put himself between the Bats and the newcomers.

“You judge me, when you wear human flesh so much that you stink of it? Your true scent barely bleeds through.” The odor of rancid sulfur strikes the air. The woman peels off her clothes, layer by layer until a pile litters the sand. “Half-breed.”

Rude. The human and dragon are both his scents. Tim thinks he smells fine, thanks.

“I said–” The villain tries to command but the dame strides towards Red Robin.

“How are you different from me? The warlock will save my line and give us power, but you? You play at human.”

“I do what I want,” Tim icily states. “Which is more that I can say for you. Now get out of my territory or burn.”

“No, I think I’m going to put a male in his place. Beneath me.” And the woman lets out a cry that turns into a roar. The other Bats watch as the woman’s form hutches over, makes a terrible crack and then grows. And grows. And grows. Scales take shape as her neck elongates and it’s sickening. Before them a white dragon rises and crashes a claw on the beach. It’s the size of a house.

‘Well…’ Bruce thinks. ‘That’s something new.’

“A dragon, come on. You have to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Jason snarls, shooting at the beast. The rubber bullets do nothing but irritate the overgrown Godzilla-wanna-be.

“Wait, it gets better,” Tim mutters. “So, burn it is. This is why we can’t have nice things between dragons. What a pity...bring it.”

And there is a collective gasp.

Because Tim smirks and the beach is overcome with a violent blast. When the smoke clears...there’s nothing?

Nothing but the golems on the beach, the Bats fighting them and the warlock hissing out commands to a white giant worm, who is diverting much from his cunning plan.

But no Tim.

The white dragon shrieks in fury and raises her giant wings, preparing to crush those on the sand when something large slams into her side. She lurches over and peers over her shoulder. Nothing. But several of her scales are cracked from the impact.

Then, it’s as if thunder booms right in front of them, making their eardrums ring from the force of the sound. Under the blow, the white worm topples forward attempting to steady herself.

It’s shadowy and massive, a heavy body and the thumping beat of wings. It’s slowly moving into the moonlight on the beach, kicking up sand.

The Bats shields their eyes even with the whiteouts down, the gust knocking into kevlar and nomac. Nightwing automatically throws an arm out to keep Robin from falling; Hood makes an unconscious grab to the other arm.

And when he lights down, massive razor-tipped claws digging into the sand, the black scales and shiny leather of wings give the Bats one hell of an answer to all those burning questions.

Timmy’s always cold.

The cave, the hoard.

The night vision.

The ever-ready exploding “pellets”.

All of it comes to a sudden dawning realization.

The baddie of the night looks from one dragon to the other, trepidation leaking in because who would have thought two dragons at once.

Low muttering, winding a spell even as the new dragon throws back his power neck and roars. It shakes them down to their very bones, a sound unlike any they’ve heard before.

The shift of muscle, dark eyes narrowing, and the first lunge is punctuated by the abrupt cries of the Bats who have come to the realization this is one of their own.

But there’s no pause when claws come up to strike, when the first is a good one, raking into his side, putting his first blow into soft underbelly, close to the intended target.

(Only one way to kill a dragon, the heart has to go.)

“Motherfuck--Tim!” But Hood can do nothing but watch the blood, ripe and rich in the night splatter the beach, hoping stupidly it ain’t all Red’s.

“Get to the sides!” the Batman roars, already moving, already reaching for the next weapon in his belt.

He sees the opening when both dragons rear up on hind legs for the next blow, his gauntlet spitting out flash pellets.

It’s go time as the rest of the Robins take it all in and move. Robin pulls a duck and dodge through legs with a batarangs ready for the baddie on the other side.

Hood pulls a whole lotta how ya’ doin’ when the .45s spit a few rubber bullets right on the gouge marks, sliding through the sand as the bigger dragon leans down to latch teeth into Tim’s neck and hold the fuck on.

Nightwing leaps, even with the sand trying to bog him down, both sticks out in a double blow at the exposed weakness behind the white dragon’s ear. He has enough time to cringe at the sound of pain tearing into the night, to see the gleam of claws sinking into her belly in a knee-jerk reaction.

The fight going on behind them, the golem starting to shift and move at the sorcerer’s botched command, and Robin just breathes out a deep damn sigh because honestly, some of us have homework to dumb down. But he shifts, pulling out pellets in rapid succession as he moves closer to the army. The abrupt, “huu,” is just more proof he is a superior marksman. The mental note to pick up the tome from which those accursed spells emanate from is another task on the night’s to-do list.

The abrupt shock of Nightwing’s stick and the barrage of bullets takes its toll, getting the white dragon to jerk away from that black jugular, to rear back with pain.

The claws sink deeper, Red growling low, smoke curling from his maw. His eyes slide to the sides, making sure the Bats are out of firing range before he opens his maw with that familiar and suddenly very telling click.

“Down!” It’s Batman that throws the last exploding batarang within range to the white dragon’s injured belly, so the blast of burning blue flame ignites, sets the soft, vulnerable innards to char.

Red, however, takes the last blow for his own (because she picked the wrong fucking city, the wrong family, the wrong dragon to fuck with), claws sinking in, and the meaty thump in the center is just at the right place to reach.

Low and huffing, “try me.”

“You wouldn’t,” her voice cracks from agony.

“Threaten what’s mine, and I won’t think twice.” He gives just the smallest squeeze to punctuate the point.

“Better not fuck with him, bitch,” Hood’s voice, lazy through the synths while he eyes the army Demon is gonna be taking on, “he ain’t one ta joke.”

The white dragon growls and the iridescent black dragon can feel her tensing up as if to give her last hurrah, to go out with a bang, but he’s having none of that. He snarls, the sound deep from within his chest as he snaps his jaws just in front of the dame’s face, sparks clicking behind his gleaming ivory teeth. “You should know,” he practically purrs, “there are fates worse than death. Don’t. Push. Me.” His words, his threat (a bluff, shh), thankfully, gets the right reaction. She sags with a trailing growl, eyes glittering with malice and defeat.

“Go. Get out of my territory.” The words leave no argument.

“W-Who…” she spits blood, dotting the sand, “who would want...your...shoddy terr-territory anyway.”

Slowly, he retracts, pulling his claws back while the click echoes against the bluff, a warning and a promise. But the dame doesn’t move to start the fight up again. She needs time to heal the grievous injuries. The mage will earn his own fate.

“And now, next on the list,” Nightwing sighs, looking from the dragon to where Robin has starting whipping out the tricks and traps on the moving golem.

“By the way, Timmers,” Hood’s neck cranes as he look up at the massive face hanging low, the chest heaving with that little scuffle. “You ever think, hmm, I dunno to say you might be a motherfucking dragon or some shit? I mean, don’t they say that shit right off the fucking bat?”

The dragon huffs down at him as Hood holds up a hand to demonstrate, “‘nice ta meetcha. Name’s Timmy. Like long flights ‘round the beach, beatin’ the shit outta assholes, and literally roasting my enemies.

Ya know, just the usual shit for Gotham.”

[knb-holy-universe-blog]

Hey there :D could I request Kise where he's a famous celebrity but he feels all lonely and empty inside, so he takes a vacation in search for a 'purpose' in life, and there he meets a young boy who looks very much like him, and he finds later that he's really his son with a girl who loved him in the past in their teenage years with whom he had a one-night stand before but whom he also left immediately afterwards. I hope that's not too complicated. ^^

Sorry for all this time. No it’s no too complicated and I hope that it was well done and thank you for asking

The beginning of the end

Everybody on this earth is dreaming of success, moneyand fame. It’s everybody’s goals. Once you reach them, you can say that you’retaking a step into heaven, so why don’t I feel happy or blessed? I have themall but yet I still feel like something is missing in my life? I feel like I’mnot myself anymore, I’m losing myself

Every morning, I wake up and look into the mirrorasking myself: who is this person I’m seeing? I don’t know who it is but it’snot me? If it’s not me then who is it and where I am? I can’t find myselfanymore, I don’t feel anything anymore and there’s a question I’m asking myselflately “Why do I keep living anyway?”

Morning 7am:

The blonde model took his phone and called hismanager:

“Good morning” his voice was very calm and unsure

“Good morning Kise what made you call me at such anhour?”

The manager was very worried

“Don’t worry it’s just that I need some time off”

The man was surprised since Kise had just taken 2weeks off last month:

“I don’t know Kise, we still have so much work and youknow it, I can’t just let you go like that”

“I’m not asking you, I’m just letting you know”

Kise just hanged up before turning his phone off, heknew that there will be consequences, he will probably have to pay for this foolishact and his image and reputation will be awfully touched but it was the leastof his worries.

Handing his plane ticket and passport, he left hisapartment wearing heavy disguise because he’s so sick of paparazzi and all thepeople taking pictures of him without paying attention to his situation. Hetook a taxi to drive him to the airport, this city that he liked so much seemedno longer beautiful but instead, it’s tainted in black drawing him intodarkness and no matter how hard he tried to color it up, to give it a nicecolorful look, it doesn’t work and he’s the one to get colorless now

After stepping out of the taxi, he headed to take hisplane without turning back because he was never this sure of something…Destination Bali…

He arrived to his hotel, he was too tired of theflight but this didn’t stop him from enjoying the magical sight of this beautifulplace, it gave him a feel of ease, relief and he didn’t know why.

It was night, he wanted to go out but he felt his bodyheavy so he just stayed in front of the window. He could see the differentforms of life, people passing by looking so happy, enjoying their times,happily together it was so colorful

He watchedthem, envying them, they were experiencing something he no longer can have, thelife coming out from them sent off a bright light that blinded him, he justbacked off to his dark corner because he can’t see anything in this light, HEHAS NO LIFE RIGHT NOW

He returnedto his bed, watching how many glasses he took until now but he can’t feel anygood,

There’s nothing he can do. He asked himself “Who Iam?”

After thinking,

“I’m Kise Ryouta, No Kise Ryouta is a person I used tobe, I’m not this person anymore. ‘Say this, act like this, do never do thisbecause now you’re a celebrity’, if I’ve been told that being a celebrity meansleaving yourself behind I’d never accept it. If I’ve known that I’ll only be adoll, a puppet controlled by others ‘hands I would refuse but now it’salready over”

Feeling some tears rolling down his face, he closedhis eyes, sleeping and letting go all his troubles away, hoping for a bettertomorrow, hoping for a miracle, for a hero to save him and draw his life withbright colors.

Hours passed and morning announced his sun, whichcaused the desperate model to wake up. Feeling his body getting weak, he lazilytook the remote controller and switch the tv on, watched some tv shows whiletaking his breakfast. It’s true that it was nothing special but just gettingsome time alone, being able to breathe, having his space, this made him feel alittle better because it’s been so long that he didn’t give himself time. Hewas overworking and doing all he can to have a successful carrier, to make aname for himself but he lost his self on his way and kept only the name.

After getting bored from the tv, he decided to go outand have some fresh air. He sit on the beach, closing his eyes and trying toenjoy the heat of the sun, it was like a warm and soft touch in his frozenworld. While he was enjoying this rare moment of peace and ease, a ball hit himright in the face… He was still there, not moving but the reason wasn’t becausehe was hit by a ball, no it’s because it was a BASKETBALL

“Ahh I remember this game, I used to be good atplaying it, I used to enjoy it very much… I even used to have friends, manyfriends with which I used to play and fool around with… Maybe I should…” He wascut off:

“Hééé you! Give me the ball”

The model turned to see a tiny little boy, blonde hairwith fierce golden eyes. He smiled thinking that he looked a little bit likehim, if he had a little brother, he’d probably look like him.

He smiled to the little boy but this one wasn’t reallyfriendly:

“Hé looser give it back!”

“What’s this attitude little brat” Kise said withsarcasm

“Just give it back now”

Kise sighed, this child was not one to talk to butwait maybe he’s one to play with

“If you want the ball just come and get it” The modelsaid with a smirk while drabbling which provoked the little boy

“Fine, but don’t cry if you ended up being allridiculous”

“Haha come come I’m waiting for….” Before he couldeven finish, the boy was already facing him and trying to steal the ball fromhim. The model smiled and tried to avoid this small little thing, as he wasmaking his moves to win over the kid, he noticed something amazing andunexpected…the boy was trying to copy him, to copy the way he adjusts his legs,the way he’s moving. He wasn’t really good at copying, his copy was far frombeing perfect or well down but truth to be told, he was gifted, he has the“Copy” gift and Kise could see it.

This boy in front of him doesn’t just look like himbut he has also the same ability as him, he told himself that was a lot to bejust a coincidence maybe it’s some kind of miracle of heaven. Kise wasoverthinking and forgot about the kid trying to steal the ball from him, he wasoff guard when the child almost took it but with a quick move he could stop himand without noticing he slightly pushed him away which made the boy fall hardon the ground.

Kise hurried to see if the kid was hurt or not, justat the moment when he put his hand on his shoulder, he started crying out loud.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah Mommy where’s mommy” Kise hadtrouble to shut him down

“Please shuut, if you’re hurt tell me” but the kidwasn’t listening

“Mommyyyy I want mommy”

“Ok ok I’ll find mommy for you, just keep quiet I’llfind her”

Kise was about to look for the boy’s mother when heheard her voice:

“Mommy is here” As she spoke those words, the kidjumped to her hiding in her warm arms

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hold myself enough while playingwith him”

He bowed apologizing to this woman but she keptlooking at him, smiling:

“I’m really sorry again”

She laughed this time,

“Why are you laughing, is it because I’m an adult whois playing with a kid, right?” He was a little bit uncomfortable at thissituation

She kept just looking at him with a smile: “You’reright to laugh at me, I’m just a looser who has nobody to play with or to staywith, I was lucky enough to play with your son and you can laugh, you have allthe right to laugh at me”

“You’re this lonely?” She asked

The model just nodded, his head down, he was feelingso embarrassed at this situation.

“If you like him Jason, maybe we can invite him for adrink with us?” the woman turned to her son

“He’s not that bad, he played with me after all”

“Mmm I guess so, so you come with us or you justprefer to stay alone?”

Kise was even more uncomfortable now, but the look onthe child’s eyes was too much to be ignored so he just smiled and nodded whilelooking at this beautiful angel.

“Let’s go then” the kid shouted

They were walking together, for some unknown reasonsKise felt less lonely, it’s not because he’s walking with them, not because hehas company but there was a different feeling inside him, there was like asmall light in his darkness, some gold shades in his colorless world…

“What do you want to drink?” the woman asked him

“Anything is fine”

“Then we’ll take two beers and one orange juice”

“NOOOOO”, the kid shouted, “Three orange juices orthree beers”

“But you’re underage idiot”

“I don’t care Mommy, I’ll take what you two take”

“Then we’ll take three orange juices” Kise said

“Pfff you’re really a pain in the ass” She said

Kise was shocked at how these two were close to eachother, but he was also having a strange feeling, like he saw this woman before,no like he knew her before but he couldn’t recall

“Who is she, who is she?” He kept asking himself butafter a few minutes he cracked

“Did we met before?” He asked seriously but as fast ashe finished his question, both the mother and her son burst out laughing. Kisedidn’t understand why

“He’s not just a jerk, he’s a jerk with no memory” Thekid added looking all amused

Kise was really shocked, what are they talking about? Andthis boy has no manners. He waited for the mother to react, to scold her childbut she was just laughing which made the model very upset. He just stood up andturned to leave, he started to walk slowly hoping for them to stop him and givehim a proper explanation but all he got was:

“He’s running away again, he sure has balls” and ofcourse it was the boy’s comment

Here Kise, couldn’t take it anymore, how could such asmall little boy say those things beside his mother who is just watching, noforget about this, she let him talk like this to a stranger, that’s sodisrespectful

“You know, maybe you should educate him better” Hesaid coldly while looking into the women’s eyes

“I’m sorry but it’s all I could do, don’t blame me I’ma single mother” She said with so much confidence but a few tears were about tofill up her beautiful eyes.

At this moment, Kise could feel that something waswrong, what kind of arguments was that after all, but he just ignored it

“And so… it’s not a reason for your son to say suchhorrible things to a stranger…”

“ ‘Stranger’… hein?” She laughed

The model already felt like he knew her before but nowhe’s sure, no doubt, he knew this woman before…

“We knew each other right?” he asked in a soft voice

“Jason can you please leave us alone?” she asked whilelooking at her son

“No! I’m not Mommy” Her responded with such aninsisting look

“please, do it honey, please just for a small moment”She was really insisting, she really needed to be alone with him

He sighed: “Pfff, fine. But I’ll be back in 10minutes” and he just left while giving threatening look to the blonde model

“So you’ll tell me the whole story or I’m going toguess” it’s like Kise had a small idea when she asked her son to leave but hewasn’t sure yet

“Yakazawa inori, does this name mean anything to you?”she asked

He started thinking but after a few seconds, he shookhis head

“Then I’ve got no choice, I’ll tell you the wholestory so please take back your seat and listen carefully. So, Yakazawa inori, abeautiful high school student full of love and energy that fell in love fromfirst sight with some basketball player that she met once in a basketball game.They talked a little bit, it was nothing for him, he was surrounded by girlsafter all but for her it was something different, meeting someone so speciallike him, it wasn’t just his looks but also his personality that made her loseher mind. After he left, she asked people about him and got all the detailsregarding him, let’s say she became a fan, his number one fan”

As the woman was telling her story, kise couldn’t helpbut to keep his head down, he was so ashamed and wanted so bad to ask forforgiveness because he already knows now that he hurt her but he’s waitinguntil she finished so he can give a proper apology.

The woman in the other hand, was telling her storylike it was another person’s story: “ She was buying all the magazines he’s in,she was attending all his games and cheering for him. One day, his team lost agame, she was so upset to see him so sad and broken so she didn’t head home andstayed walking from street to street to feel better even though it was alreadylate. While she was walking, something caught her sight, she spotted herbeloved one “Kise Ryouta”, the one and only she loves, he was setting in arestaurant and all alone. She wondered what to do next, he was looking so upsetand she couldn’t bear seeing him this way so she decided to join him and shedid. She was unsure but she joined him anyway, he didn’t seem to remember herbut he allowed her to sit with him, they were having this meal together so shetried her best to help him forget his defeat but he didn’t seem to. He was allsilent, after a few time he got up and said that she can follow him and shedid, not knowing where he’s heading until she saw a hotel, then she knew whathe meant when he said that she can follow him. He entered but she was stillunsure of what to do but her love for him, no her selfishness controlled her,she thought that maybe if she had a night with him, she will be his girlfriend,his love who supported him and cheered him up when he needed the most. She followedhim to the hotel, she was scared but she did it anyway, being with him was allthat matters to her. Even when she slept, she dreamt of him, she dreamt of alife where they are all together happy but all those dreams were destroyed whenshe woke up the next morning and he wasn’t there anymore. She was afraid butshe forced herself to believe that he had an urgent matter to leave and decidedto go and meet him so she went to Kaijo. She waited for hours to see him,practice ended very late but she was there, waiting for him in the cold but allthis torture disappeared when she saw him coming with his teammates. She sawhim and shouted Kise, she was all happy but how did he react? No how did youreact?” She asked the model

His head still down, he said with a low voice: “Idon’t know but I’m sorry”

“Of course you’re sorry but it’s right, that day tooyou were sorry. You were sorry because you weren’t in the mood to give me anautograph and you didn’t even recognize me!!! I was so hurt. I came backhome, cut all the magazines you’re in and decided to forget you. After a monthof crying and hating myself for being an easy idiot, there was another problembigger than my stupid love life, there was something growing up in me. I was soafraid of it, I wished and prayed that it wasn’t the case but when I went withmy auntie to the doctor, my whole world fell down I was pregnant”

“Wait!!!” He finally raised his head, “So Jason!!!That’s why he looks…. But why didn’t you ? You..” He words didn’t make senseanymore, he was really shocked

“I did, I didn’t know what to do so my auntiesuggested that I tell you. I swear, it was the last thing I wanted to do, Ididn’t want to talk to this selfish, heartless guy anymore but I had nothing todo. I came to see you but Mr was too busy with his fan girls, the sight tore meapart so I left, I decided to write you a letter and asked one of your friendto deliver it to you, everything was in there, I waited for you to come, toshow up. A month passed and I couldn’t hide it anymore, after thinking over andover with my auntie, we came up with a story, we told my parents that I wasraped, we created an imaginary story and we even told the police but all thiswas false. My parents were so afraid for my security so we left the country andbelieve me I couldn’t ask for more. I was never that happy with my parents‘decision, I was homeschooled until I gave birth to the child, we had ababysitter at home just for him but still I had to do so many things for him.My life was never the same, every time I looked at him, I saw you, he’s justlike you so I was a little bit happy because I had a mini you funny no? As hegrew up, he was more and more curious. One day he asked who was his father, itwas hard for me to tell him, first because I was left by his father and secondbecause I lied to my parents so I had to tell them first, I was never thatashamed but surprisingly they already knew about it and I don’t know how. So Istill had to tell him who was his father, I typed your name on the internet andhad your pictures, I showed him how you look like and he was so proud of you”

“I don’t know what to say I’m so…” she cut him off

“I’d lie to you if I said that I hate you or anything.I just hate myself, you were young and had so many opportunities so why wouldyou trap yourself with me” she smiled but it was obvious that she was stillhurt

“Who’s that friend?” He was so serious

“ What friend?” she asked confused

“You said you gave a friend of mine a letter right?Who was it?”

“Ahhh that, I don’t know his name but while I wastrying to reach you, he just took it and said that he’ll give it to you later”

“F*** , how does he look like? I received no letterfrom you?” he was cursing, if he really knew who that friend was, he’d kill himfor sure

“It’s okay Kise, never mind” She was trying to calmhim

“No I mind! What do you think? You think I’d let youdown and run like a coward if I knew. No seriously, he’s my son, it doesn’tmatter if I was 16 or 17, I wouldn’t care, I’d take care of him”

“Calm down Kise, you don’t have to feel guilty oranything. I already took good care of him and I don’t have any grudge on you,believe me”

“It’s not about you!!! It’s about my son, how could hegrow up without his father being by his side! And you must have so much troubleand I wasn’t there” Kise was really going crazy

“You should have come to me and tell, you should havepushed all the stupid girls and tell it straight, I’d react believe me”

“Ahh so it’s my fault now. Mr popular sleeps withgirls and forgets about them and it’s the girls’ fault”

“No I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it this way. It’s justtoo much for one day, don’t you think so Inori ?”

“Already being casual with me?”  She teased him

“You’re my kid’s mother, can’t I?” he smiled

“Mmm I’m not sure, maybe we should ask him first”

“Aaah no, with his savage attitude I’m sure he’llrefuse. By the way, why does he have such rude attitude toward people?” Kisewas really curious

She started laughing and then said:

“He’s not rude with others, just with you”

“Heiiiiin! Really ? but why ? I’m his father and yousaid he was proud of me”

“Yes he was proud of you until the day I started todate someone. And this boyfriend used to call Jason, his son which pissed himoff. Every time he’ll call him my son, Jason yelled ‘ my father is Kise ryouta’”.My boyfriend was fed up and told him, Kise ryouta is just a jerk who left yourmom when she was pregnant. He asked me later whether it was true or not, Icouldn’t lie so that’s how he started calling you a jerk”

“Whaaat? How could you agree? And how can yourboyfriend allow himself to do that?” Then Kise looked away and added: “Euuuhare you still dating him?”

“Hahaha that’s funny, why are you asking?”

“It’s just that I want, no I wish to spend some timewith my son but I guess it will be a little bit hard if you’re with someonehere” he said with hesitance

“I’m not dating anybody at the moment and if you’refeeling lonely you can stay with us”

Kise felt uncomfortable again because she touched asensible spot. He was feeling so lonely, miserable and worse he’s so ashamed ofthis situation. Not even knowing that he has a son and meeting him just likethat, he tried to say something, he wanted to act, to adapt himself to this newsituation

“But what a coincidence to meet you guys here! Andeven more, my own son hitting me with a ball, it’s like a miracle”

She was laughing again and Kise started to get used tothis situation, no actually, he’s enjoying this situation. A few moments ago,he was sitting alone no no, all these previous years he was feeling lonely, hehad nobody to laugh with but now it’s a little bit different.

“To be honest with you, it’s all a coincidence that wemet here. But your son hitting you with a ball wasn’t one, he was upset becauseyou left us but when he saw you there all lonely, like you’re in your own worldhe wanted to ease a little your pain and that’s why he came to you”

The blonde model was surprised at her confession, eventhis little boy could see through him. He was this vulnerable and this downnow… so pitiful

He lowered his head, like all the world’s problemswere on his shoulders so she just put her hand on his shoulder. He raised hishead in surprise, he felt his shoulders a little bit lighter and she justsmiled. Her smile was so bright, it drew some colors in his dark world.

“You know Kise, we all have our moments when we feeldown and low and there’s no shame about accepting other’s help in this kind ofsituation”

No there’s, that’s what Kise is thinking. He just knewthat he has a child, that he left this girl alone struggling  with it and now after all these years she’soffering her help like she did back then. He’s so pathetic, he’s such a failureand a looser. Kise’s head was full of these dark ideas…

She sighed and gave him her hand again: “In two daysit’s Jason’s birthday, why don’t you put everything beside and help me give himthe best birthday memory ever. A birthday with his whole family, not somethingof luxury, just little things that a kid dream of doing with his family, somesimple things that any normal kid would have done. Hand in hand, let’s makethis real” Kise hurried, took her hand and nodded.

He could never ask for more, maybe he’s pretending todo this for his kid’s sake and it’s true but he’s also doing this for himselftoo. Was his wish granted?

Is this the miracle he was asking for?

Maybe this is the beginning of the end of his painfuldays. Maybe it’s the colorful pencil that’s going to give out colors to hiscolorless life. His head is full of all sort of ideas, some are positive butsome are negative but for now he’s letting go all of them. He stood up,following her to join their son, letting go all his troubles and headaches fornow, it’s his last light of hope and he’s more than willing to keep it. Hedoesn’t know how to make himself acceptable, how to fix back his life, how tobe “Kise Ryouta” again, how to get back his lost self and how to take thispencil and draw colors in his life but he’ll certainly find a way. He has tomake these events the “beginning of the end”, yes the end of this tragedycalled his life…

[remnantoforario]

Fairy Tail’s ending

Well since everyone is giving their predictions on Fairy Tail’s ending. I thought I might as well throw my hat into the ring as well, but I’m going to do something a little different.

Lucy: Finished! I thought I’d never get done.

Lucy - now in her mid to late twenties - looks over the manuscript for her book titled “The Fairy’s Tail” and holds it up to the rising sun. It is now several years after the war with Alvarez. 

After showering and dressing for the day Lucy heads out of her apartment. She now owns the building, inheriting it from her former landlord a couple of years prior.

Lucy: Oops! Almost forgot!

She heads back inside and grabs Aquarius’ key from her nightstand. Her manuscript secure in her bag, she makes her way to the Fairy Tail guild hall. 

Magnolia has gotten much bigger over they years, becoming one of Fiore’s biggest tourist spots due to Fairy Tail. 

Upon entering the guild Lucy is greeted by everyone. After returning their greeting she proceeds to a table near the door which is where Levy is sitting, but not before a small child similar in appearance to Gray runs past her in nothing but his underwear. Juvia is hot on his heels with his clothes in hand, yelling at him to stop running away put his clothes back on.

Levy: Hey, Lu. What’s up? You look pretty tired.

Lucy: I pulled an all-nighter. *she smiles wide* But I finally finished it!

She holds up the manuscript to a shocked Levy. 

Levy: Really?! Let me see! Let me see!

Lucy promptly hands it over.

Levy: “The Fairy’s Tail” huh?

Lucy: I know. The title is still a work in process.

Levy: No. I like it. It’s nice and simple. Kind of draws you in. Are you sure you want me to be the first to read it?

Lucy: I made a promise didn’t I? Besides, you’re the best editor I know.

Levy chuckles.

Levy: I’m the only editor you know.

Lucy: That’s not true. Jason is an editor too. I just trust you more.

Levy: Well lucky me.

Suddenly a set of twins - a boy and a girl - resembling Levy and Gajeel pop up from under the table where Levy is sitting.

Twins: Hi, Aunt Lucy!

Lucy: Hey you two. Having fun?

Levy: I thought I told you two not to play around on the floor. Where are Jet and Droy?

Twin 1: Uncle Jet and Uncle Droy said they were tired.

Twin 2: They’re taking a break.

Levy looks over to her teammates. They were both huffing and puffing at a nearby table. When they spotted her they gave her a weak thumbs up, prompting an apologetic smile from Levy.

The twins start fixating on the manuscript.

Twin 1: What’s that, mommy?!

Twin 2: Yeah what’s that?!

Levy: This a book Aunt Lucy wrote. She’s been writing it since before you two were born.

Twins: Wow! Can we see it?

The pair look to Lucy with hopeful eyes. She smiles at them.

Lucy: I don’t see why not. Just don’t be too rough with it ok?

Twins: Ok!

Lucy: Where’s Gajeel?

Levy: On a job with Lily. They probably won’t be back until later this afternoon.

Lucy: Left you with the hard work, huh? *she laughs*

Levy: *sighs then smiles * I’m used to it by now.

Lucy: I’m going to say hi to Mira. Let me know what you think when you’re done.

Levy: Will do. See you later, Lu.

Twins: Bye, Aunt Lucy!

Lucy waves bye to the three and heads to the bar. 

Mirajane: Good morning, Lucy.

Lucy: Morning.

Mirajane: Finish the book?

Lucy: Yep. Just handed it over to Levy.

Mirajane: I hope you let me take a peek as well.

Lucy: *smiles* Of course.

Mirajane: I’m looking forward to it.

The two look over the guild. 

Juvia has finally succeeded in catching Gray’s mini-clone, bringing him back to the ice wizard in question, who coincidentally was also in his underwear, who was arguing about something with Lyon while Meldy looks on with a smile.  

Elfman and Evergreen - who have been married for around a year or so - are also arguing about something or other while Lisanna and Freed try to keep the peace.

Upstairs Fairy Tail’s new guild master, Laxus is talking to Makarov, Gildarts, Sting, Kagura - the new master of Mermaid Heel - and Ichiya - the new guild master of Blue Pegasus.

Wendy - now resembling her Edolas counterpart - and Carla are talking with Cana and Chelia at the bar.

Asuka - now in her early teens - is showing off her newest gun to her parents.

Romeo - who slightly resembles Natsu at the start of the manga with his clothing and wild hair - is talking to his father and Wakaba.

Warren - who has become rich from selling his Lacrima Phone designs - and Max - who is now in charge of Magnolia’s tourism board - are also speaking about something.

Finally the two of them spot Erza and Jellal - now a free man along with the rest of Crime Sorciere - sitting and talking near the stage.

Mirajane: Time sure flies doesn’t it?

Lucy: Yeah. It feels like only yesterday that I joined Fairy Tail. *she looks down at her guild mark, remembering all the adventures she had and the people she met over the years.*

Mirajane: Is it just me or is someone missing?

Lucy: Now that you mention it. Yeah. Where’s-

Just then the guild doors burst open, revealing Natsu and Happy.

Natsu and Happy: We’re here!

Lucy and Mirajane smile.

Mirajane: He certainly knows how to make an entrance.

Lucy nods in agreement.

A child with pink spiky hair similar to Natsu’s pokes their head from behind his leg. When they look to the bar their eyes widen in joy.

Child: Mama!

The child takes off running, passing the bar and leaping right into a smiling Erza’s arms.

Erza: Hello, sweetheart.

Natsu and Happy approach them.

Natsu: Hey, Jellal.

Jellal: Hello, Natsu.

Erza: What took you so long? You were supposed going to be here an hour ago.

Natsu rubs the back of his head nervously.

Natsu: Sorry. Our fishing trip took longer than we thought.

Happy: Yeah. We’re sorry.

Child: Mama! Mama! I caught a really big fish today!

Erza: Really? How big was it?

The child stretches their arms as far as they can.

Erza: That’s amazing, honey. We’ll cook it for dinner when we get home.

Child: Yay!

Lucy’s eyes meet Natsu’s and they both smile as wide as they can. When he starts to walk over to the bar, Gray crashes into him.

Natsu: What the hell was that for?!

Gray: Don’t start yelling at me! It was Lyon’s fault!

Natsu: You did that on purpose!

Happy: Uh oh.

Erza: Both of you stop this now. It is far too early in the morning.

Gray: You calling me a liar, ash breath?!

Natsu: If the shirt fits, ice for brains!

Child: Go, Papa!

Erza: Don’t encourage him.

Gray: That’s it!

Natsu: Bring it! 

The two start brawling. Erza sets down her and Natsu’s child and tries to break up the fight, but is pulled into it instead. In a matter of moments nearly the entire guild is fighting. Even the guild masters start to get in on the action.

Lucy watches the entire scene with a smile on her face as she dodges flying bodies.

Lucy: Guess some things will never change. No matter how much time has passed. 

Fade to white.