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britcision · 2 years ago

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Guys I dunno how to tell you this this is my favourite fucking chapter so far and before this one the last one was

I know it looks like we’re getting distracted and side tracked off on tangents but I’m having the time of my fucking life and more than half of my favourite bits weren’t in the plan

(We’re still on track and makin’ our way but oh boy the funniest things are all accidents)

AO3 link is as ever still on the first couple of chapters!

First:

———————

That’s Not A Twink That’s An Anime Girl

They did eventually have to let Dick out of his snow drifts.

As a former circus acrobat, Dick had the best excuse of all of them to use his vigilante training in public; he’d wormed out of Jason’s grasp, flipped over Duke and made a run for it.

Unfortunately for him, gravity was actually literally optional for Danny, and Danny didn’t even have a superhero identity to protect in Gotham.

He could turn a lot more easily on the slick ice and snow to give chase, a little flight added when friction failed him. On his own, Danny would have probably had to actually fly to take Dick down.

Of course, odds of eight-to-one would weigh on any man. Not a single member of the group wasn’t thoroughly soaked by the hour’s end, sweat under clothes and snow clinging over them.

The journey up to Wayne Manor ended up being done in chunks as the sun began to sink and the cold set in for their more human friends.

Jason, Danny, Duke, and Tim had to go back to the mall to retrieve motorbikes.

(Technically Danny didn’t actually need to, but what he did need was an excuse to get Jason alone for a minute, and he’d put up with snickering from Sam and Tuck to do it.)

Steph, Cass, Damian, Sam, and Tucker called for a cab rather than pack themselves into Dick’s now snow filled car, and their numbers were excuse enough for Danny to slip away.

Which is when Tucker realised he could have probably hitched a ride on Tim’s bike, and spent the whole journey hugging Tim Drake-Wayne.

Buuuuut it’d also mean riding a motorcycle through slushy snow. The dilemma on his face made Danny grin all the way back to the mall, despite the damp now clinging to his clothes.

Sure, the car might reach the manor first and they’d get warm and dry, but that just meant Tucker’d miss out on more Tim Time.

The snowball fight had clearly done Tim good too, he was much more energised as they walked back to the mall, complaining to Danny and the others about Amity Park’s underhanded tactics.

Danny sure as fuck wasn’t going to apologise, but he did have a much more important question: how the fuck did Jason do that landshark-disappearing-into-snow bullshit?

Which… well, was also a chance to fuck with Tim and Duke.

“Seriously Jay, I can go intangible but that snow trick was bullshit,” Danny complained with a wicked glee in his heart, reflected in Jason’s grin.

Tim nearly tripped over his own feet. Duke caught him, his own eyes wide.

“You can what?!” Tim asked in a slightly strangled voice, and Danny gave him his most innocent smile.

“Oh, has Dick not told you? Yeah, it’s one of my things, from the generic end of the list,” he explained casually, turning his arm intangible and phasing it through Jason.

Who made a face.

“Okay but why does it feel like that left a residue?” The larger man complained, scrubbing at his shirt.

Which. Danny paused, frowning down at his hand. Stuck it through his own chest experimentally.

“Y’know, I didn’t know it did that… not like I go through myself often, but I can definitely feel it,” he agreed, sticking his tongue out as he wiggled his hand around, then drew it back.

Duke and Tim looked fascinated and nauseated respectively. Danny gave them both a cheerful shrug and kept walking.

“It’s probably my pit water,” he theorised, and Jason groaned loudly.

“Danny, did you just fucking mix our forbidden smoothies?” He complained loudly, and Duke damn near choked himself on a strangled laugh.

Danny fully had to stop and turn to stare at Jason, delighted awe on his face.

“Oh, I’m calling it that forever. That’s my new favourite thing. Skulker is going to shit his entire liver when he hears “forbidden smoothie”,” he decided gleefully.

Jason smirked and bumped shoulders as he passed, forcing the others to keep moving to keep up. Duke almost jogged to lean around Jason and give Danny a curious look.

“Who’s Skulker?” He asked innocently and Danny grinned at him.

“Oh, one of my rogues. He likes to talk a big game but he’s pretty easy to deal with. All bark, no bite,” Danny explained cheerfully.

Honestly he was a little surprised Skulker hadn’t shown up in Gotham to bother him yet. He must have been having a hard time finding a portal, because it’s not like he’d stop.

Tim and Duke did seem a little reassured by his casual dismissal, but still concerned. Jason cut them off before they could ask anything that might be useful.

Yeah, Jason was kinda Danny’s favourite.

“So how the fuck do I get your smoothie out of my jug?” He asked with an overly disgusted face. Danny fought not to laugh.

“You are so asking the wrong person dude, I didn’t know it happened until just now,” he pointed out and Jason rolled his eyes.

“I’m taking at least six showers when we get to the manor,” Jason grumbled melodramatically, and Danny laughed aloud.

Then paused.

“Wait, how many bathrooms are there? Can we all shower?” He asked Tim and Duke.

Neither of whom looked ready to admit they didn’t know what was going on. Fuck Jason knew his family well.

Duke shrugged, the mall finally coming into sight, and diverted towards the underground parking.

“Well, there’s enough for one each. And Alfred could do laundry for you so you can change right after if you take a long one,” he offered, glancing down at his own now damp clothes.

Best part of a snowball fight: changing back into something warm and dry.

Danny snickered, plucking at Jason’s oversized sweater.

“The way you assume I’m wearing a single thing that I actually own is adorable,” he told the younger man sincerely, grinning as his cheeks heated.

Sure, it was more subtle on dark skin than Danny’s light tan, but he’d been friends with Tucker since he could walk. He knew exactly what to look for.

Was not quite ready for it to be combined with a sly grin right back.

“What, nothing of yours?” He asked suggestively and Tim laughed, quickly catching on.

“Did Jason give you everything?” He asked teasingly, both younger Wayne wards now grinning at their older brother.

Jason’s little pink blush was definitely still Danny’s favourite. He grinned right back, refusing to follow them to a place that didn’t exist.

“Some of it’s probably yours,” he told Tim blithely, tugging at his sweatpants. Which, as predicted, immediately changed Tim’s expression to annoyance.

“Why is everyone wearing my pants today?” Tim grumbled, and Danny’s grin widened.

“They looked a little tight on Tucker if you wanted to help him take them off,” Danny teased and Tim levelled a dry stare at him.

“I do have a boyfriend,” he pointed out coolly, like that was gonna stop turnabout from being fair play.

“Ask him to come help then,” Jason cut in, ruffling Tim’s hair, “you know Connor’s always welcome for dinner.”

For a long moment Tim’s expression froze, clearly actually considering the suggestion. Then he shook his head, sighing and calling the elevator.

“Probably not today. What floor do you guys need?” He asked as the doors slid open, stepping inside.

Quiet day at the mall. Probably the fucking cold, combined with hangovers from the new year.

And as much as Danny was thirsting to ask about that, he also very much needed Jason alone before they got on the road. Hopefully they weren’t on the same level.

“Two,” Jason said, and Tim nodded, hit two and then four. Looked to Duke. Who grinned.

“Three. Sorry Tim, you’re taking the scenic route.”

And for once the universe worked in Danny’s favour. Something fucked would probably happen soon to compensate.

He and Jason left the elevator together, waited til the doors slid back shut, and then headed off towards the bike. Danny didn’t make him ask.

“She’s definitely liminal. Not like, bad? Honestly she wouldn’t even register back in Amity Park. Damian’s is a bit worse, but he’s younger, it happens. Ecto energy likes kids,” he explained when Jason made an inquisitive noise.

He definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He’d been just young enough to take it in like a magnet.

His parents probably wouldn’t have survived the same accident.

“It’s kinda the only thing horror movies get right. Ectoplasm can form from emotional energy, and little kids, they feel everything that much more. Tapers off when you get older, so Damian’s still a magnet. Cass is stable.”

He kinda wished he had better news, but honestly? After a dunk in the kind of rancid ectoplasm Jason described, Danny was taking it as a win that neither of the others were haunted.

Jason nodded gruffly, pausing beside his bike to pull his helmet back on. Not that it’d stop Danny from reading his mood; his aura pulsed stress-stress-stress-worry like a beacon.

Danny stepped closer, resting a hand on Jason’s shoulder, stilling the movement.

“They’ll both almost definitely become ghosts if they die again,” he explained softly, voice low enough to pass unheard in the echoing space, “but they’ll be fine. Think of it like insurance; you’re never going to lose them.”

Jason snorted, the sound distorting strangely through the helmet, but didn’t pull away.

“Is that what you tell yourself about Sam and Tucker?” He asked, trying to sound derisive but there was a tinge of hope there now.

Danny gave him a gentle wave of sorry-sorry-comfort back.

“Yeah.”

Back in the elevator, Tim looked at Duke expectantly. Who sighed.

“I am not a fuckin’ pokedex, Tim,” he reminded the older boy with a roll of his eyes. Which his brother totally ignored, still waiting.

Tim could fucking stare like nobody’s business.

The elevator chimed again and Duke stepped out, not the least surprised when Tim followed.

“I dunno. I thought I almost caught something in the park, but it was just a blur. Tucker and Sam both have more of an aura than Danny, but Danny’s clearly something. I just dunno if it’s a meta gene,” he explained reluctantly, and Tim nodded, already adding the information to his wrist computer.

Which he wasn’t supposed to wear out of costume.

Duke wasn’t gonna tell; he’d be a damn hypocrite if he did, he wore his Signal boots with the bike half the time. They were just much more responsive than normal boots.

“What makes you say that?” Tim asked, still typing away. It’d save Duke from having to add it all to his report, so it kinda counted as a favour.

Duke shrugged, still trying to narrow down the feeling.

“Honestly? Most people with the same meta gene fuck up a little the first time they show off around me. It’s the x-metals; I boost them, whatever they’re doing goes too hard.” Tim’d been the one to help him work that out, but it would all go in the report.

Tim nodded, gesturing for him to continue and Duke sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Danny… didn’t. Unless that’s the residue they were both talking about, and if the fucking Lazarus Pits can cause intangibility we have got to warn Bruce. But that’s not the only thing,” he added quickly, before Tim could speak.

The older boy quieted obediently, but Duke could see he had his thinking face on. Putting pieces together, all those wheels turning as one.

That was practically a fuckin’ meta ability, and it wasn’t like Tim got a boost from him either. Maybe Duke needed to do some more experimenting.

“Most metas, even the nonhuman ones, have at least some aura. Some of them can hide it, but I can get a feel for their powers from it. Danny… I dunno. I can almost feel something, but I can’t see it.”

That was the thing that unsettled Duke the most, honestly. Almost all of his powers were purely light based; seeing what other people couldn’t. Even his shadow manipulation still worked around light.

It was fucking weird for there to be anything he couldn’t see, and he could go way beyond the visible spectrum. Whatever Danny emitted, it went beyond even that.

For a guy who could even see a little into the future, it was weird.

And since Danny had showed off flight, super strength, and intangibility already? And called them the generic end of the list?

Duke was definitely leaning on the “extreme control of his aura” side of the equation.

Tim looked concerned too, which was kind of validating. It kinda sucked being the expert on things no one else could understand, because Duke always worried he was overreacting, but if Tim tagged it too? Well that was validation.

“The only bit of good news is that we can probably rule out the pits as the source of his abilities,” Tim muttered as he scanned back through his notes so far.

“They coulda been trauma activated by his death in the same way as a meta gene,” Duke pointed out thoughtfully, leaning back against the wall.

It wasn’t like they were racing home, and until someone else came down the elevator? No rush. Tim had another floor to descend anyway.

Tim himself shrugged, adding another couple of notes to his file.

“It’s definitely possible, but even if it was a million-to-one chance, I can’t imagine Ra’s keeping quiet about something this useful, or letting someone like Danny run around if he had any idea he existed,” Tim explained, making a face.

And… yeah, no point trying to argue with Tim about Ra’s al Ghul. Duke pulled a face too and sighed.

“Well, he still seems pretty sure we’ll know all about it if we can get into Amity Park. Or when Jason decides to fucking tell us,” he added with a roll of his eyes.

Tim glanced up at him, smirking.

“You noticed too?” He asked innocently, and Duke snorted. Reading Jason’s micro-expressions might not be a survival skill exactly, but it was still a bat family hobby.

“He definitely fucking knows!” He complained, the switch from Professional Hero to Baby Brother getting easier and easier as time passed.

He still had his own parents, he didn’t need Bruce to adopt him, but he’d been an only child for most of his life. Having a new army of big brothers and sisters? Kinda ruled.

And he knew most of the others felt the same. They’d all be alone in their own ways, and the stubborn independent streaks were still there, but…

It was good to know someone had your back. That no matter what happened, how the adults in your life fucked you over, you could always go to Dick’s in Bludhaven.

Could always call Jason to bitch about whatever you needed off your chest, and yeah, there was always the worry that he really meant it when he said he’d “take care” of your problem? But he also listened when they said no.

Hell, it’d been Jason’s couch that Duke had crashed out on about a year ago, back when Jason was still damn near on the Big Bat’s no fly list.

He’d been on his way to school for the start of his winter semester when an absolutely blinding migraine took him to his knees. For whatever reason, Jason had been close.

Duke hadn’t even been able to glance at his phone to call for help; even opening his eyes a crack felt like he was being blinded. He’d barely recognised Jason’s voice asking if he was alright.

Hell, back then he hadn’t known if Jason recognised him out of costume. They’d always had a more friendly relationship than Jay did with the other bats, but this had been just after Jason finally texted Dick back.

Back when Red Hood would take a casual shot at any mask crossing into his turf. Not to hit, but a definite reminder of the border.

And Jason had lifted him bodily and carried him into Crime Alley. Put him on his couch to sleep it off in pitch darkness, and made him some of the best home made soup Duke had ever had.

Duke got why the older teens were still a little wary. He’d seen the Pit Rage live and in person, and it was fucking terrifying. It just wasn’t all Jason was.

And yeah, the family also had a whole army of fellow teens who’d know exactly what you were talking about, between Steph, Tim, Cass, and Duke himself. Even Damian, as much as he pretended not to care.

Kate and Babs were always willing to spread their wings out and give them all a place to shelter. And hell, if adult supervision was needed, they even had Harley, Ivy, or Selina.

Duke may not want to be a Wayne, but he’d take everything the bat family offered with both hands.

Tim sure as hell had not adjusted from being the baby to being third oldest though. He gave a huge heaving groan to match Duke’s own, flopping back against the wall.

“I know, right! And he knows we don’t know shit. He’s just enjoying watching us scramble cuz he knows we can’t just tell Danny we don’t know,” he grumbled, scrubbing both hands through his hair.

Duke hesitated.

“We… probably could just tell Danny,” he said slowly, brows furrowing. “It’s not like he doesn’t want us to know.”

Tim gave him a sidelong look.

“Yeah, after we admit we didn’t even manage to google him. Y’know, the kid who clocked Dick’s identity from his ass,” he added dryly.

Duke hesitated again, brows furrowing.

He knew that shouldn’t matter. Knew the smart move really was to ask for help sometimes. Knew damn well that it was Tim’s stubborn streak that kept him in the cave all night, while Tuck, Steph, and Cass watched movies upstairs.

Finally he let his head drop, sighing.

“The longer we wait the dumber we look if we have to ask later,” he warned Tim but his heart wasn’t in it.

It didn’t matter that Jason was probably the only member of the family with all the pieces; whoever caved and asked for help first? Yeah, social suicide.

Tim shook his head, pushing off the wall and scowling out into the rest of the garage.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to Tucker about the Amity Park problem tonight and we’ll know by morning.”

Which… Duke hid a smile.

Asking Danny? Definitely cheating, worthy of scorn and derision.

Asking Tucker? Apparently completely different. Although technically he wouldn’t be asking Tucker for the same information.

Just admitting the exact same fault.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, Duke turned and wiggled them at Tim as he headed for his bike.

“Hey, if you hurry you could try to beat Danny and Jason to the manor. Get to Tucker first,” he added, grinning as Tim hit the call for the elevator.

The shorter boy rolled his eyes, waving a hand in Duke’s general direction.

“I’ll get to him once everyone’s warmed up. He wanted a look at my set up last night anyway,” he said almost off handedly.

Duke’s grin spread.

“Oh hey, that’s perfect! Just take him to your bedroom after you’ve both just been wet and naked and show each other your most private parts!” He called loudly, wondering if any of the supers were listening.

They’d find out soon.

Tim choked, blushing cherry red and spun to yell something after Duke just as the elevator doors opened. Duke waved cheerily back, turning away to head for his motorcycle.

“See you at the manor Timmy!”

Reconvening at Wayne Manor was… well, chaotic. Even more so than the gala the night before, though that might have been because this time, none of them had a firm plan.

Jason and Danny arrived first, greeting Alfred on the way in. The butler was not hugely impressed by the “foresight” which had led to a snowball fight when Danny was wearing an oversized sweater, sweatpants, and little else.

Any protestations that Danny was fine and was normally this cold anyway quavered under an archly raised brow and Danny privately swore never to let Clockwork meet Alfred.

They would get along far too well.

And that’s how Danny ended up actually using one of the spare bathrooms while Jason, who had worn a proper coat and thus escaped Alfred’s wrath, grabbed him a change of clothes.

The fact that this once again included one of Jason’s shirts, when Tim, Dick, Duke, and Steph all existed and also had spare clothes here, felt a little targeted.

It hung from Danny’s shoulders like a kid in his dad’s clothes, but Jason was probably also the only one with a shirt that said “Soup Powered Fuck Machine”, and the bit was fucking worth it.

Danny tied off most of the excess fabric into something just a bit longer than a crop top and settled in to drink hot chocolate with Jason and Duke and wait for the others to come back down.

(Which, by the way? Best hot chocolate he’d ever tasted. He was stealing the recipe 1000%, it was so rich and creamy and thick and had grated curls of chocolate on top of the whipped cream.)

Any lingering questions Duke might have been hiding about the shirt? Answered themselves when Tucker walked into the room, saw Danny, and laughed so hard he wound up in the fetal position.

Yeah, Jason was never getting this shirt back.

This was Danny’s shirt now. He was gonna wear it for his next fight with his rogues.

Sam actually did have her own clothes, so she’d accepted the offer of laundry while she showered (though she was a little annoyed the laundry room was so far from any of the bathrooms that she couldn’t do it herself), so she’d rejoined them in a mix of Steph and Cass’s clothes while she waited.

She had also been unable to keep a straight face upon seeing Danny’s new country girl fashion statement, rolling her eyes and punching his shoulder as she dropped to sit next to him.

“We call the thermos Soup Time,” she explained when Cass cocked her head curiously… which probably actually confused the rest of the bats a little more.

“The thermos you threw at Killer Croc?” Dick asked, still towelling his hair dry.

Sam raised a very slow eyebrow at him, her smile toning down to a smug smirk.

“Yeah, sure, I definitely threw it at Croc,” she agreed dryly and Dick cackled, throwing his towel down on Tucker’s still curled body.

Without even seeming to open the door Alfred appeared with another tray of hot chocolates, handing them out to those who hadn’t yet gotten one and taking back empty mugs.

He even had a second hot chocolate for Danny, who was going to marry the man. Even if he was old enough to be his grandpa.

Maybe Tucker did have a point about trying to get into the Wayne family for the perks… which Danny was never going to stop teasing him about, now that he and Tim were getting on so well. Boy could make his own ins, he didn’t need Danny.

Even Tucker roused himself for a mug though, crawling out from under Dick’s towel, glancing at Danny, and bursting out laughing again. Still, this time he could keep himself steady enough to stand, take the mug, and join Tim on another couch.

Alfred gave a quick glance around the room, probably counting heads, and cleared his throat.

The assorted vigilantes quieted immediately, and Danny’s respect for the old man grew just a little. It was already pretty fucking high. Not much more room to rise.

And somehow that perfectly serene, composed face managed to convey a deep sense of satisfaction.

“I am afraid we are presently waiting only on Master Bruce to begin dinner. If you would all proceed to the dining room?” It was phrased as a polite request.

The Wayne brood leapt to like it was an order. Danny pressed his lips shut on a laugh as he followed, catching Sam’s eye to see her grinning.

Up in front, Dick hurried to walk alongside Alfred.

“Oh, is Brucie not home? Or do you want me to go dig him up?” He asked brightly, and Alfred gave him a tight smile, pushing open the door to the fucking plainest most normal dining room Danny’d ever seen in a mansion.

Sure, the table was huge, but rather than being ornate, heavy, or flashy, it looked to be hard wearing oak. Clean, well polished, and not even that polish could hide the dents.

The chairs too were comfortable, nice, and a lot more tasteful than the Manson’s or Vlad’s. Well padded, well used, but not… fancy. Even the walls were simple, the elaborately framed portraits and art pieces on the wall replaced with…

What looked like kid’s drawings. Framed, cherished, and it clicked.

No chance in hell that this was the manor’s formal dining room.

The table was huge, but not that big with the number of people in the room. More than half of it was filled with just the kids, and sure there was space for the Amity Parkers, but not a larger group.

This was the family dining room. And that was fucking adorable.

Steph’d definitely walk him through every picture on the walls to help him find Jason’s. Today was going to be great.

He almost completely missed Alfred’s reply to Dick.

“I’m afraid not, master Dick. He was expected back nearly two hours ago, and yet…”

Even deep within the manor no one could have missed the sound of the front door slamming open, and anyone who did would have been alerted by the bellowing yell that followed.

“OOOOOOOH BRUCIE! I TOLD YA WHAT’D HAPPEN IF WE HAD TO HAVE THE BOUNDARY TALK AGAIN!” An extremely loud, very chipper given… well, everything voice filled the room.

The Gothamites’ heads all snapped around with expressions ranging from delight to exasperation.

“How the fuck did she get here so fast,” Duke hissed, leaning in towards Tim, but not far enough that Danny couldn’t hear, “weren’t she and Ivy in Brazil?”

Tim, definitely the exasperated one, gave a helpless shrug. Whatever he replied with was lost under Dick, bellowing back with clear glee in his voice.

“FAMILY DINING ROOM, HARLS! FIRST HALL ON YOUR LEFT!”

So, they were all going to meet Harley Quinn today. That’d be fun. Danny had always wondered what she was like in person, and apparently she was a close enough friend of the Waynes to be welcomed in.

Sam and Tucker’s faces would be fun.

Alfred’s was a perfect mask of patience that even Clockwork would envy, and he had already pulled a new place setting from a chest of drawers.

It didn’t take Harley long to find them, striding down the hall wearing some fucking unseasonal shorts, a baggy long sleeved sweater, and her trademarked blonde pigtails with the pink and blue tips.

And a bedazzled baseball bat slung casually over her shoulder, just in case anyone missed the mark.

She greeted Dick with a kiss on the cheek, then chased down as many of the others that hadn’t immediately fled to the other side of the table. Barring Damian, none of them seemed to mind.

Jason had made an attempt to flee, but no. No, that wasn’t happening, and Danny “accidentally” got in his way. Boxed him in between chair and table, grinning all the while until Harley made her way to them.

“And there he is! My poor suffering boy!” Harley cooed, cupping both of Jason’s cheeks in her hands and yanking his head down with a lot more force than a woman her size should have been capable of, pressing a large smooch on each cheek.

For all the glares he shot Danny, he managed an almost sheepish smile for the woman herself.

“I’m fine, Harley. Really. You didn’t need to come,” he protested with absolutely none of his heart in it, a pink flush rising to complement the sparkly pink lipgloss smooch marks.

“Nonsense, baby boy, if Brucie needs his head pulled from his ass I’m always here,” Harley told him firmly, patting his cheeks and rounding on Danny.

It was kinda less funny now that she was bearing down on him, all of her airhead dramatics belied by the piercing, analytical stare she pinned him with.

“Huh, did Brucie pick up a new one while we were gone? It’s been like a week, we’ll talk about his adoption issues too,” Harley declared firmly, snagging Danny by his collar and yanking him in for a cheek smooch too.

And yeah, holy shit, she really was a lot stronger than she looked. Like, almost ghostly levels of super strength.

Batman’s “no metas in Gotham” rule was looking flimsier and flimsier, cuz while she’d been a rogue in the past, this? This was not a rogue’s welcome, and Danny actually did like most of his rogues.

Just not “kisses on the cheek”, although the grabbing and pulling was familiar.

Still, better not let Vlad know. Wouldn’t do for him to feel too welcome in Gotham.

Harley released him a moment later to give him a dazzling smile.

“Hi, you’re a little older than most of Brucie’s new kids but that’s fine, I’m your Aunt Harley now and if you ever need any help with anything, especially getting Brucie’s ass in line, you just call me, okay doll?” She told him firmly.

Jason was fucking grinning at him over her head, and it just plain wasn’t fair that he was a whole head taller than them. Danny flipped him off behind her back, and gave the woman herself a sheepish smile.

“Actually, I’m not one of Bruce’s, I’m just-“

“Jason’s-boyfriend,” Steph stage coughed behind him.

Harley’s eyes widened, Danny had a go at kicking blindly behind him and hurried to correct her.

“Just Jason’s friend,” he stressed the word and suddenly those almost frighteningly piercing eyes were roaming across his face again.

It was like if Jazz had been dunked in a vat of glitter but could still see right through him. Then Harley grinned again and patted his cheek.

“Sure thing, sugar. Still, if you stick around long enough Brucie’ll make a go of it, so be careful,” she warned him cheerfully, then lunged for Steph, got her in a headlock, and smooched pink lipgloss into freshly washed hair.

Danny couldn’t help chuckling softly as Harley scanned the room, clocked a bemused Tucker and wide eyed Sam, and her eyes narrowed for a moment.

Then she nodded, apparently deciding they probably also weren’t new niece and nephew, and skipped back over to Alfred.

“So! Not that this ain’t great, but ya clearly got some company over so if ya could just point me towards the B-man I’ll borrow him right quick?” She offered with a broad grin, not actually grabbing Alfred.

Up went the respect-o-meter again. Restraining Harley Quinn was hard for seasoned heroes, her restraining herself? None of the birds could claim that apparently.

Alfred gave her the same polite smile, setting her a place at the table.

“I’m afraid Master Bruce has not yet returned from his lunch appointment, Miss Quinzel. He should be returning shortly if you would care to join us for dinner?” It almost didn’t seem like a question, given what he was doing.

Harley waved a hand easily, making a face that was almost apologetic.

“Oh, nah, I’ll just go get ‘im for ya and send ‘im back over. Maybe with some new bruises,” she added almost as an after thought, then shrugged and grinned. “So! Where’d ya last see ‘im?”

It seemed like their missing Brucie problem was about to be solved, and the rest of the Gothamites were now taking their seats around the table.

Tucker, who’d cautiously followed Tim’s retreat around the table after Harley’s chaotic entrance, was now sat between Tim and Damian, and probably regretting his life choices.

Sam, whose parents hadn’t actually specifically forbidden her from speaking to Harley, seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something. Probably going to talk to Harley directly.

Steph and Jason had considerately left two spots in between them as they sat, and Danny let himself drop into the chair next to Jason as Alfred answered.

Well. Nearly into the chair.

“Master Bruce’s lunch appointment was approximately four hours ago in a private room at Chez Vous with one of our gala’s guests, a Vlad Masters.”

Yeah. Danny missed the chair, thunking all the way to the floor with a startled squawk.

“He fucking WHAT?!” He exclaimed, yanking himself back up, staring around the table at the equally startled Waynes.

Like they hadn’t spent the first part of the gala telling these people specifically that Vlad was a fucking mind controlling sociopath who was targeting their dad. What the hell.

Alfred raised an eyebrow very slowly at him, concern now creeping into his expression.

“He went to met Mr Masters in a private room for a late lunch, Mister Fenton. I am not aware of any other plans, but-”

And Danny was probably committing a cardinal fucking sin by interrupting him but he couldn’t hold in the groan, sinking down into the actual chair this time and thunking his head off the table.

Across the table, Tucker snickered at him.

“Let me guess. You forgot Vlad was still in town?” He asked, and Danny let out another utterly heartfelt groan.

“I forgot Vlad was still in town,” he whined as Jason stifled an entirely inappropriate bout of laughter.

There was one more important piece of business though, and Steph jumped straight to it.

“Wasn’t someone supposed to warn Bruce about Masters last night, so this couldn’t happen?” She asked in a low voice, leaning into the middle of the table.

Tim made a face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I said I would, but… I got distracted…”

By beating his brains out against Amity Park’s ghostly firewalls apparently, and Danny did feel kinda bad for completely forgetting to mention that. In his defence, he hadn’t technically known that the Batcomputer was not ghost virus proof.

Should have guessed. Hadn’t known.

Tucker, who still had no idea about the vigilante thing, was quick to reassure Tim.

“You had a medical emergency, of course you were distracted,” he said quickly, patting the younger man carefully on the shoulder and glaring at the other assembled Wayne brood, “and any of them coulda mentioned it too!”

Dick raised a hand with a half smile that was mostly apology.

“Actually… Bruce went straight to Tim’s side after the gala. Think he stayed all night, but I never actually saw him. We coulda texted though,” he added sheepishly as the rest of the family made general noises of agreement.

Except Duke, who shrugged.

“I only learned about Masters when I met you guys this morning,” he pointed out, and Danny kinda doubted that but Duke had missed the original Masters debrief so he had the best excuse.

Alfred stepped closer to the table, and for the first time his presence actually registered as something other than the polite, nigh-unnoticeable model of efficiency.

Which probably meant he’d picked up on Danny’s super subtle hints that the situation was not fucking good. Good for him.

“And precisely what information was supposed to be shared with Master Bruce?” He asked, still politely, still calmly, but there’s a hint of warning that had most of the table stiffening up.

Tucker answered, giving Alfred an apologetic smile.

“Vlad Masters is a super creep and probably using his mind control powers to try and make Mr Wayne sign over everything he owns,” he explained easily, like it was nothing.

Harley’s eyes had widened, but she didn’t seem overly worried, just shouldered her bat again.

“So it’s also gonna be a rescue mission, huh? Vladdie a local boy or are they still gonna be in the same place?” She asked, the rest of the table tensing as one.

Because yeah. Next step was extract Bruce, and kick Vlad’s ass, and probably maybe try and get any contracts Bruce had signed in four hours? Which could now be anywhere.

Sighing heavily, Danny hauled himself to his feet. Feeling like a fucking idiot aside, he probably should have already left. He was pretty sure he knew where Chez Vous was?

“No, you guys stay put, I’ll go get him,” he said as cheerily as he could, cracking his neck.

Harley’s brows drew down in a frown and she prodded him with the bat.

“No offence kid, but ya look like a stiff breeze will flip ya over. You’re not going alone,” she told him firmly, and yeah, Danny could also feel Jason damn near vibrating from beside him.

Concern-worry-protect-coming too.

Putting a hand on the big guy’s shoulder before he could rise, Danny pushed just enough to keep him in his seat. Felt the moment of shock course through the much bigger man, and his grin became just a little more genuine.

“Sorry but if any of you come along, you’ll only make it harder for me to get Bruce back safely. Vlad’ll just take you guys over and make you fight me. I really wouldn’t worry too much though, he’s never actually beaten me,” he added with a reassuring smile.

Sam snorted a laugh, dropping into the empty seat beside Steph and crossing one leg over the other. Reassuring the Gothamites with her own complete lack of moving.

“Yeah, Danny’s been cleaning his clock since he was fourteen and it’s something like 700-5. You’d think he’d give up eventually,” she added, rolling her eyes.

Cuz yeah, Vlad might have gotten the upper hand through sneaky traps a bunch of times, but in a straight fight? Danny usually won, even before he had the power of the Infinite Realms at his back.

It wasn’t that all eyes turned to Harley. It was more that suddenly a bunch of them weren’t looking at her so pointedly they might as well have.

She regarded Danny and Sam a moment longer, then shrugged and dropped into the chair at the head of the table.

“Guess I’m stayin’ for dinner, or at least til Brucie’s back. And hey, it can be hard for folks ta come to terms with things like that. ‘Specially if they’re adults takin’ offence ta gettin’ their butt kicked by kids,” she added, a bright gleam in her eye.

Sam snickered, leaning back in her chair.

“Voice of experience?” She asked innocently and Harley tipped her a wink.

“Hell nah, you ever seen a Robin fight? ‘Sides, most of the folks who’ll shit a brick at bein’ beat by a kid get just as huffy at gettin’ beat by me,” Harley explained with a broad grin, flexing her own muscles.

It was just a little hilarious to see the differing reactions from the young vigilantes around the table.

Damian was still noticeably grumpy, though he almost felt more worried to Danny’s expert empathic eye. But then, his dad was in the lion’s den.

Dick and Tim looked like they were sharing an inside joke, and Danny had to figure they were the other Robins that went against Harley the most.

Steph, Cass, and Duke all looked decidedly self satisfied. Jason…

Jason was ignoring the rest of the table, still frowning up at Danny but not fighting his grip anymore.

“I should still come with you,” he argued like the rest of the conversation hadn’t happened, his voice low and urgent. And… yeah. Protection Obsession, 1000%.

And his Fright Knight now, fuck you very much Clockwork, but he was also not even fully formed. No way Danny was taking him to fight Vlad as his first ghost.

He gave Jason’s shoulder a quick squeeze, lowering his voice under the rest of the conversation.

“You’ll know if I need you, Jay, but Vlad used to be able to control me too. He’s not a great first run,” he explained softly.

Jason very clearly didn’t like it, brows drawing in even further, and Danny made his grin a little brighter by contrast. Brushed confidence-easy fight-be back soon across his aura.

“Besides, he’s more a sneaky fuck than an actual fighter. Not worth both of us heading out,” he tried, rolling his shoulders.

Jason raised an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed.

“By that logic it should be me going instead of you,” he pointed out, and Danny pouted. Fuck him for technical accuracy.

“Look, next time, okay?” He whispered, leaning in til his mouth was next to Jason’s ear. Tim was now watching them rather than Sam and Harley’s banter.

Perceptive little shit. But he wouldn’t catch shit if Danny covered his mouth to talk. For now, he had to persuade a cranky protective halfa not to go kick Vlad’s ass.

How the turntables and so on.

“Once you’ve got your powers in you can take him every time, alright?” He whispered, then leaned back and grinned at Jason. At least he wasn’t glaring anymore.

“I’ve got this. I’ll be fine,” he said as reassuringly as he could. And then. Pausing. “Uh… but I’ll probably… y’know. Do the thing to find him.”

Vlad couldn’t hide from Danny’s expanded aura, not without leaving this dimension. But that’d mean Jason also got another dose.

The understanding dawned across the big guy’s face, fell into a complicated expression. Finally he nodded stiffly.

“Fine. But leave it up so I know how it’s going?” He grumbled back, lips barely moving. Probably as a countermeasure for Nosy Little Brother.

Danny grinned and ruffled Jason’s hair, stepping away.

“Sure thing bud. I’ll be back with Bruce as soon as I can,” he said more loudly, more to the whole room, and let his aura flare out into the city until it touched Vlad’s.

Yeah, that beat trying to navigate the city from above for the second time ever.

A sudden absolutely awful impulse hit him, and his grin stretched just a little beyond what was humanly possible.

Why the fuck not? The reveal was gonna drop soon enough, Tuck and Sam already knew how much he wanted to show.

And most of the table were watching him.

Danny rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and had a brief moment of nostalgia. Because if he was being theatrical…

“I’m going ghost,” he called as loud as he could, letting the glowing rings of his transformation wash over him, changing him to Phantom in front of a table of gawking bats.

Then he jumped into the air and flew out of the manor through the wall, Sam and Tucker’s laughter ringing in his ears.

Now he just had to hope he could reach Bruce before Vlad did anything he couldn’t easily fix.

Tim was the first to speak. Other than the raucous laughter of the Amity Parkers the dining room had been dead silent since Danny’s… well, it was a transformation.

Reaching out blindly with his other hand, Tim caught Duke’s arm.

“You saw that, right?” He asked, his voice a little hoarse.

Duke nodded slowly, still staring at the wall Danny had just disappeared through.

“Not that I know what the fuck it was… but yeah…”

Because… yeah. They’d known Danny was some kind of meta at this point. Guy really wasn’t trying to hide it. But that was…

“What, you ain’t seen that before?” Harley asked from the head of the table, her voice filled with a sudden glee.

Across the table Jason snickered, and Tim’s attention zeroed back in on him.

He’d known. He’d stiffened up before Danny had transformed, still hadn’t fully relaxed and Tim could guess why. Whatever he’d told Danny to “leave up”.

It didn’t look like he was in pain, more like he’d braced himself for something that hadn’t fully happened yet. But since apparently all secrets were just on the table now…

Tim turned to Tucker.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked, and Tucker sighed happily, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“An overdramatic little fuck?” Sam offered from the other side of the table, also still grinning. Tucker wheezed loudly, slumping back in his chair.

Tim shifted his attention to Sam instead, giving up on Tucker for now. To be fair, he was kinda surprised Jason wasn’t also laughing at them.

It must have made a comical scene.

“Obviously. But that… going ghost? What did he mean?” He pressed, leaning in across the table but not lowering his voice.

Sam and Tucker exchanged thoughtful looks, Tucker’s laughter fading to giggles as they clearly weighed their answers. Then Sam leaned in too, folding her arms on the table and leaning over them.

“How much were you actually able to look up about Amity Park?” She asked, and the rest of the table leaned in to listen.

Even Harley, thoroughly devoid of context, kept quiet for a change. She could smell a good story when she heard one.

And as much as it pained him to admit…

“Nothing at all,” Tim confessed with a brief shake of his head, eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t even find the weather account you showed us.”

Beside him Tucker took another deep, fortifying breath and steadied himself in his seat.

“Yeah… warned you about that. Any tech not actually from Amity needs a baseline level of ecto before it can get through the firewalls,” he explained, and as glad as Tim was to have him back in the conversation…

“But that isn’t how firewalls work,” he protested, knowing full well the other boy knew, “Facebook doesn’t have a separate server or separate firewalls for some small town in Illinois versus the larger world, and even if it has something to do with the IP…”

Tucker raised both hands quickly and Tim subsided, a little relieved to have been cut off. The frustration from last night was building again, and he really didn’t want to deal with that right now.

“Okay, you’re definitely right almost all of the time, but Amity Park’s is… different,” Tucker explained quickly, glancing around the table and almost immediately focusing his full attention back on Tim.

Dismissing the others as below the level needed to understand the conversation, or assuming they’d keep up on their own? They all could, none of the bats were slouches on cyber security, and the distinction didn’t matter to Tim.

Yet.

They were also probably all a little below Tucker’s own technical proficiency, from everything Tim had seen (and Steph and Cass’s admitted failure to break his server encryption).

(Oracle still hadn’t broken the same server.)

Tim nodded anyway, not willing to talk and slow the explanation any further.

They could have been doing this more than twelve damn hours ago.

“Firewall isn’t exactly the right term for it either, but about five years ago… well, we decided the rest of the world couldn’t know about a lot of things that happen in Amity Park. It wouldn’t be safe,” Tucker added, watching Tim’s face carefully.

He looked almost guilty. Like he could guess how much frustration this had caused Tim. Hell, if Danny knew their identities then Tucker, his guy in the chair almost certainly did too.

And since they weren’t pretending to all be civilians anymore…

“The GIW were already censoring the hell out of us,” Tucker continued, rolling his eyes, “it was actually really annoying. They actually did the IP thing, but you could VPN around that. But we didn’t want the rest of the world, other governments to come to the same bullshit conclusions about ghosts and keep causing trouble.”

“Ghosts like Danny,” Duke cut in, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

Tucker glanced past Tim for a moment and nodded.

“Pretty much, but Danny’s a special case. Most ghosts can’t actually do the magical girl transformation,” he added with a snicker, and Sam rolled her eyes, tapping the table for attention.

“What Tucker’s dancing around telling you is that what we call the Amity Park firewall is basically alive. It has nothing to do with IP addresses or any regular tech shit because it runs on ectoplasm.”

“It’s not actually alive,” Tucker cut back in with an exasperated huff, “it’s just something I came up with with some help from Technus. He’s the spirit of technology so he can possess computers, not people, and together we made a safety net.”

“All of Amity Park is saturated in natural ectoplasm,” Sam explained, ignoring Tucker’s pointed glare, “so now whenever someone’s trying to connect online to anything based in an Amity Park server, our ecto looks for your ecto in whatever device you have. No ecto, no data.”

“It’s not that simple,” Tucker whined, like this wasn’t already a level of complexity that made Tim’s head spin.

But it was the spinning that triggered an almost ignored memory.

“Ecto… that’s what Danny nearly said last night, when he was talking about the Lazarus Pits,” he said with a sudden sharp frown, attention jumping between the Amity Parkers and onto Jason.

Who shrugged. Like this wasn’t news. How the fuck had he even met Danny in the first place?

“Show of hands, who here’s surprised that the pit waters actually come from the land of the dead?” Jason asked dryly, gaze sweeping along the table.

Tim’s attention flashed directly to Damian and then Cass, the two of them sat on a full diagonal from each other. They were the closest thing the family had to experts.

Neither looked surprised, although Damian’s eyes were narrowed. New information then, and likely something he’d be looking more into. Cass just looked thoughtful.

Harley’s hand was up though, and the table gradually turned to its gravity. She shrugged.

“Had a bet with Ives that it was super tainted kool-aid. Not that we know much about it,” she added with a shrug, and Jason snickered.

“You’re half right anyway,” he told her and the raised hand was replaced by a pair of fists pumping into the air, but silently for once.

Even Harley wasn’t gonna interrupt a lore dump.

Jason returned his attention to Tim.

“Apparently the pits are made of contaminated ectoplasm. Super tainted,” he nodded to Harley, “because the regular stuff? Doesn’t bubble, doesn’t burn, and doesn’t kill people who touch it.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed for a moment, looking Jason over, hunting any trace of a lie. He’d made himself an expert on Jason’s features, on what every micro-expression might possibly mean.

Jason was a damn good liar, but Tim knew every tell that meant he spoke the truth.

Still, he glanced from Jason to Cass, sat on Jason’s other side. The Asian girl raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded.

Human lie detector confirmed. Good to know. Even if she was rolling her eyes at him for checking.

Duke leaned in further, half his body now hovering above the table as he grinned at Jason.

“So does that mean you’ve got ectoplasm in you, if you still have the pit rage?” He asked, which didn’t really seem like something to smile about.

Although not exactly worse than the idea of Jason just still having the pit in his veins. At least Jason didn’t seem to be really bothered by it.

He just shrugged.

“I guess so?” He offered suspiciously, his face still carefully neutral as he watched Duke. Whose grin broadened.

“So does that mean if you look up stuff on Amity Park you’ll get through?” He asked innocently. Jason rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a phone, Duke,” he said dryly, and Tucker snickered.

“It’s actually kinda funny you say that, cuz Danny’s been sucked into video games before,” Tucker said innocently, giving Jason a sidelong look.

Which… raised a couple of questions, since Jason didn’t seem embarrassed by it. Tim’s eyes narrowed for a moment.

“Is that something that could happen to Jason?” He asked cautiously, and for some reason Tucker actually laughed.

“Oh, it’s something that could happen to anyone,” he said sounding very smug, and Tim tore his attention off Jason to stare at Tucker, wondering what the hell he was thinking.

Tucker just grinned back and Tim’s best guess… well, it couldn’t have been a bad experience. It had definitely afforded him the full attention of everyone at the table.

Harley stuck a hand in the air again.

“Okay, I know I ain’t one o’ the kids, but I’m gonna need to know a whole lot more about that,” she declared, and Tucker laughed, shaking his head.

“Another time? I gotta get back to get ready for school early tomorrow at the latest but if you wanted to hang out again…” he trailed off hopefully, his attention slipping from Harley back to Tim.

Tim was not going to blush. This was a chance to gather more intel in future. And just hang out with a friend! There was nothing more to it than that.

He chuckled softly and nodded, settling back into his seat.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say we’ll see each other again,” he agreed, and definitely didn’t enjoy the way Tucker beamed at him.

Given their reactions, he probably did some kind of tech support while Danny… Danny was probably the ghost who’d protected Amity Park.

Had they always known who Jason and his family were? Tim knew he should reserve judgement until he could find an unbiased source and work out what had actually happened in Amity Park, but…

Well, it wasn’t like the Amity Parkers were hostile. There was always the chance it could be a long con, but Tim didn’t think so. They’d given too much away.

For now, it seemed safest to assume that they were fellow vigilantes, and were at least as aware of their identities as Danny. Tucker might even have been the one to work it out.

And if Tucker could solve their technical problems and give them open access to Amity Park, Tim could take that and confirm his theories.

If they had something to hide, Tim should be able to work out at least where to look based on what Tucker gave him.

“We’ve gotta wait for Danny to get back for him to infuse your tech, buuuut I can get you started on the data download if you can hook me into your set up,” Tucker said with an almost seductive smile.

Or maybe Tim thought it was seductive because it came with an offer of increased tech. And sure, he wasn’t hooking a stranger straight up to the Batcomputer, but…

Well, that’s what the fully isolated laptops were for. And Tim could bring one of those up from the cave, but… well, the Amity Parkers showed trust first. And they really had less reason to.

They’d been abandoned by the Justice League, and apparently personally picking up that slack. The least Tim wanted to do was promise them that it hadn’t been malicious; they really hadn’t known.

And to promise that he personally was going to find out how this had happened, and make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Last night wasn’t going to be in vain.

He’d ask the others about it, but as things stood right now, Tim would really like to see Tucker get a proper look at the Bat Cave.

Vlad was a little surprised to find he’d been having an absolutely charming afternoon with one Brucie Wayne.

He hadn’t expected to actually like the man, but one on one he had a kind of self effacing charm that Vlad rather appreciated. Far more tolerable than most of the arrogant rich bastards he had to deal with.

He had been so very interested in the running of Amity Park too, in the challenges of being a mayor and a business owner, and so few people really appreciated the struggle.

Of course, Vlad wasn’t going to out any of Daniel’s little secrets. It wouldn’t do to upset the boy more while he was trying to mend fences.

Even if he had left Vlad to the mercy of some hapless buffoons and the criminals they were chasing the night before.

So he kept it light, to issues like road maintenance, funding local fixtures like the library and the schools, things he thought Brucie had a chance of understanding.

Brucie had also noticed that their boys were becoming… close.

Well, it would be almost impossible for him not to have. And it was only natural that Brucie wanted to know more about the boy getting close to his son.

It was almost a little strange how easy it was to speak well of Daniel. For so long Vlad had been fixated on his inadequacies, on all the things he could fix if Daniel would just accept his help.

On wanting to mould Daniel into someone like himself. He hadn’t really considered that Daniel… might not want to be like him.

Vlad was rich, successful, on top of the world by every modern marker, but he was also alone. He had no one and nothing that he would call his own, that he could leave his fortune to.

Of course, as a half ghost it wasn’t like he was actually going to die, but not having a successor was part of what tugged at his core.

And Daniel… Daniel was much better at bringing people close than Vlad. He had dear friends, and easily found himself with new ones. Daniel was likeable, and Vlad had to admit that he himself… wasn’t.

People cozied up and tried to bribe Vlad, but perhaps it was the very things he’d seen as weaknesses in Daniel that made them actually like the boy.

So he focused on those instead, the qualities that had always baffled and confused him. The loyalty, the trust, everything he’d once tried to use to tear Daniel down.

And utterly failed at every turn. After so many years, yes, Vlad had detected the pattern. It was just so hard to keep from falling into it.

So when he felt Daniel’s aura wash out and across him, wary but amused on top of the aggression, he startled just a little. Made sure to obviously check his phone, and gasped when he saw the time.

It was obvious what must have happened.

“Oh my, Brucie, did you have another appointment today?” He asked in only mildly faked surprise, concealing his amusement expertly. “Dear Daniel has just contacted me, it seems you’ve been missed.”

Daniel likely thought Vlad was up to the kind of nefarious schemes that he… well, had come to Gotham to commit, in all honesty. But obviously those plans had changed with his little badger’s personal interest.

Perhaps he should have told Daniel that? Ah well, the boy would learn soon enough. He settled back in his seat, letting his aura broadcast his intent.

Calm-welcome-nothing to hide.

Felt Daniel’s disbelief, but that was fine. It was the truth.

Brucie visibly startled as well, taking his own phone out to check the time. Probably wondering why his own brood weren’t contacting him if he’d been missed so much.

“Oh… yes, I’m terribly sorry, I think Danny must have been invited to our family dinner, which I’m late to,” Brucie added with that lovely self effacing smile, shrugging. “I must have put my phone on vibrate. I’ll just tell them to start without me.”

Or his children didn’t expect him to check it, apparently with reason.

Vlad clapped his hands together and rubbed them a few times.

“Well, no matter. I do believe Danny is on his way to retrieve you, so we’d best wait where we are. I will pick up the bill, of course.”

They’d had the private room in the restaurant for around four hours now, which wouldn’t come cheap, but Vlad could be generous. Especially if Daniel expected him not to be.

Brucie made the usual noises of gratitude and appreciation, and mild confusion. Well, that would be answered by whether or not Daniel bothered to transform back before bursting in.

Either way, it wouldn’t be Vlad’s choice to reveal his little secret.

“I have my car with me, but if Danny’s on his way here…” Brucie trailed off, glancing to the window with a perplexed frown on that handsome face.

Whoever dealt with the man’s wrinkles for the cameras would be very upset, but Vlad got the feeling Brucie could afford the best. He had such an expressive face, and yet nothing was ever out of place.

Almost as good as ectoplasm for keeping one young.

He was probably wondering why Daniel was coming instead of one of his own children, and while Vlad could come up with an excuse about needing to see the boy anyway… well, he was bursting in on a very pleasant afternoon.

Vlad wanted to mend fences, not solve all the boy’s self inflicted problems.

Still, he gave Brucie a smile, touching the pad that would summon them a server again.

“Oh, you and Daniel can take the car I’m sure. He’ll just be here to make sure I’m behaving myself,” he added with a wry chuckle, settling back in his seat.

Something very much like alertness flicked across Brucie’s face, and Vlad could feel a flicker of suspicion for the first time from the other man.

Well, Vlad had baited him.

He certainly wasn’t as empathetic as Daniel, but he liked to keep an eye on his company, and this was the first trace of something more that he’d gotten from the man.

He waved a hand cheerfully, chuckling. The man likely had links to his city’s precious Bat and all his opinions on those more than just human. Best allay those concerns even if he was leaving.

“I have been known to talk peoples’ ears off if I get onto a subject like football, and four hours is surely long enough for him to suspect I’ve roped you into watching a game. Though if you did want to attend…” he let himself trail off, watched the man’s shoulders settle as he laughed.

“Oh, I’m not much of a sports fan myself, but I try to keep up with the Gotham teams when I can.”

The female teams at least, according to the tabloids, but Vlad wouldn’t judge. Much.

Brucie gave him that charming smile again, settling as well as the server came in and once again refilled their drinks.

“I didn’t realise Amity Park had their own teams in a league, though,” Brucie added with that softly furrowed brow. Like thought was such a strain for the man.

Vlad gave the server a quick smile and inclined his head.

“I will take the bill now, I believe we’re ready to go. And we don’t have our own teams in any of the major leagues,” he explained indulgently to Brucie, lips quirking up at the very thought.

Imagine trying to play a home game in Amity Park. It was hard enough getting the school teams out to their rivals.

And it gave him a chance to talk about his secondary Obsession.

“No, I have ownership of the Green Bay Packers, back home in Wisconsin. I really must warn you to stop there if you don’t want their full stats for the last four seasons or worse,” Vlad teased with a soft chuckle, taking a sip of his water.

Both of Brucie’s eyebrows rose and the man smiled back, settling into his seat.

“Well, Danny will be here soon to cut you off anyway,” he commented, that charming smile looking far too comfortable on him.

And he did have a point. Giving him a nod of acknowledgement, Vlad relaxed and let the gentle sea of Obsession take him, enthusiasm ramping up with every word he spoke.

It was nice to have permission for a change.

Despite his cheerful words, Danny couldn’t help but tense as he flew across the city. He’d make it within minutes, way faster than anyone trying to actually use Gotham’s streets, but…

Vlad had had Bruce for hours already. Danny was gonna hope that whatever he was doing, it was just more of his shady businessman bullshit.

He really, really, really didn’t want to fight overshadowed Batman.

Of course, remembering the looks on the flying furry brigade’s faces gave him a definite boost in mood. He didn’t actually wanna show up at Vlad’s giggling, buuut that was a problem for future Danny.

Present Danny was busy specifically not worrying so that he didn’t worry Jason into coming after him. Maybe telling the guy about Vlad’s lightning juice hadn’t been a great idea?

Of course, the good thing about the expanded aura was that he could still feel Jason’s like they were right next to each other.

And who’d have thought Jason was also a fucking mother hen? Poor guy was still tense, although at least Danny could still feel just a little amusement.

Yeah, Jason was getting to enjoy the full fruits of Danny’s theatrics. It wasn’t fair, but it made the whole thing better. Gave him something to keep his mind off Danny.

As if on cue, a strong spike of incredulous-funny-what the fuck came from his favourite non-clone halfa.

Danny was nearly at the restaurant now, and paused just above to send a questioning pulse back. Felt Jason startle, and could almost see him roll his eyes.

Later-come back-done?

The fuck were they talking about? Maybe the bats were right to always have their own little comms in. Danny sent a reassuring wave back.

Soon-anticipation-just arrived-curious.

And yes, Danny did expect the caution-stay safe-coming after you that he got back, but he wasn’t sure Jason would get the full effect of him actually rolling his eyes.

One last check for Vlad’s aura and Danny turned invisible, phasing through the roof and walls to have a look around.

Vlad was alone in a private room, with nothing but some glasses of water and a mostly empty bottle of wine. Alright, food was probably over a while ago, but the water might be a good sign.

Vlad wasn’t known to take care of the people he overshadowed.

Danny did a quick search of the rest of the building, stopping just shy of accidentally sticking his head through a bathroom wall when he felt a familiar presence.

Yup, Bruce was in the bathroom. Probably not overshadowed, which might just mean that Vlad was finished with him.

Not taking the risk, Danny made his way stealthily back to the private room, popping into visibility behind Vlad’s seat.

At least his aura being everywhere made it hard for Vlad to get a fix.

“What, did I not pay you enough attention last night, Vladdie?” He complained, draping an arm across the back of the man’s chair and noting the way he stiffened.

Also, these chairs? Much more pretentious. All carved and ornamental and bleh. Nowhere near as good as the ones at Wayne Manor.

Vlad didn’t actually turn to face him, reaching out and picking up his water glass instead. Filling his hands, so it’d be harder for him to take a shot at Danny?

Or just Vlad being Vlad and dismissing him.

Vlad took a long, slow sip before replying.

“While I would have preferred more of a chance to speak with you, Daniel, my presence here is solely to your benefit I assure you,” he said cool as a cucumber.

Danny narrowed his eyes, giving another poke of his aura. It didn’t feel like a lie.

“How so? Gonna rob Brucie blind and give it to the poor? I guess green also works for Robin Hood,” Danny mused, fingers drumming on the back of the chair.

Vlad actually looked at him then, a sharp sidelong glance before the man relaxed again, chuckling softly.

“Nothing of the sort. But if you and young Jason are going to be closely… connected, I will be seeing much more of Brucie, and I thought perhaps I could help lighten the… impression you left.”

Wait.

Was Vlad blushing?

Danny peered forward for a better look, utterly at a loss for what connection Vlad might be talking about. Cuz yeah, he and Jason were friends, but…

Oh.

Oh!

Vlad bought the closet scene.

Somehow that outcome had never even occurred to Danny and he felt himself flush, cheeks going green. Fuck, the goal had been to cause a scene, but Vlad actually thought…

Wait.

“So you’ve been here trying to convince Bruce I’m not an evil harlot corrupting his boy?” Danny asked, barely concealed glee rising with every word.

Because if this was funny, if this was fucking hilarious, he didn’t have to be embarrassed by it. Vlad didn’t need to know shit about his actual sex life, but if he’d actually called Bruce to try and polish up Danny’s new slutty reputation…

Vlad cleared his throat pointedly, still not looking directly at him.

“And luckily for you, he is somewhat willing to believe you have some good traits,” he said archly, and that fucking floored Danny.

“YOU think I have good traits?” He asked incredulously, cutting off whatever Vlad was about to say.

The man even took it pretty well, just one of those loud sighs like Danny was a particularly tiresome child, not a full grown adult man.

“I understand where you might have got the impression I don’t, Daniel, but if I thought you had none would I have pursued you so harshly?” He asked, finally turning in his chair to face Danny frankly.

Which meant he got both barrels of the sceptical face Danny was making.

“Dude, you say that like Obsessions are fucking logical,” Danny said dryly, and Vlad actually chuckled.

Not even condescendingly.

Like Danny made a point.

“Quite. Unfortunately for myself, the effects of my Obsession went into how I planned to achieve it, not in the goal itself. You have always been a remarkable young man, Daniel.”

And that was at least familiar ground.

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’d be even more if I let you lure me off to your creepy castle in Wisconsin to become mini-Vlad. Brucie can’t ship me to Wisconsin,” he pointed out, just about resisting the urge to poke Vlad in the chest.

The old guy was being weirdly noncombative, but it had been a while since they saw each other. Actual years, which Danny couldn’t imagine would have been good for the other halfa.

Much as it sucked being someone else’s Obsession and he’d loved being free of the Fruitloop… he wouldn’t wish the ache of an unfulfilled Obsession on anyone.

Fuck did that mean Vlad had actually moved on? Was that something he could do? Please let it be something he could do.

The older halfa chuckled again and took another sip of his water.

“No, I’m well aware that he can’t. But our time apart gave me little to do but consider what I know of you. You have grown to a fine young man, Daniel, perhaps with all that I have ever lacked.”

He looked up again, their eyes meeting, and Danny very nearly recoiled. Almost stepped back and away from the other halfa’s aura so that he couldn’t feel Vlad’s pride seeping into his skin like grease.

“Okay, this is getting fucking weird. Do I have to kick your ass to get whatever contracts you made Bruce sign back?” He asked sharply, trying to get the conversation back to somewhere he understood it.

Vlad hesitated a moment, then settled back again, clearly reading Danny’s discomfort in his aura if not on his face because the pride settled away.

Back in Wayne Manor, Danny felt Jason keying up, the slow growing happiness cutting straight back to danger-warning-protect-need help?.

Danny forced himself to calm too, closing his eyes for a moment to focus on the feel of Jason, not Vlad.

He just.

He didn’t know what to do with Vlad being proud of him. That had only ever meant he’d fucked up somewhere horrible before.

Calm-safe-I’m safe-not hurt.

“Still in contact with young Jason?” Vlad asked, letting the subject change even if he didn’t answer Danny’s question.

Danny cracked an eye open to peer at him.

“Yeah, he wasn’t a fan of me coming to see you on my own. Not to pick up his dad,” he added before Vlad could get the wrong idea.

Actually. It was still kinda funnier if Vlad kept the wrong idea.

From what Danny could read of him, no worries about that. Vlad was amused, but not comfortable.

Yeah, well, he could join the club. Danny gave his shoulder a gentle poke.

“Anyway. What did you really want Bruce for?”

Vlad glanced at his watch, then at the door.

“Well he’ll be back any second to tell you himself, Daniel. I wasn’t sure if you’d shared this little secret yet so I didn’t mention any of our shared nature, but he was the one to invite me out.”

Which also felt like the truth. Both parts. Danny hesitated for a moment, not quite sure if he was ready for this particular secret to be out to the Batman.

It’d be out the second the man got home if no one had texted him yet, but that was a long car ride away unless Danny flew back, and he didn’t want to leave Bruce unsupervised again.

Just because Vlad was being weird didn’t mean he wasn’t being Vlad.

Still, he’d know if Bruce was overshadowed right away, and if he wasn’t he could ask the man himself what Vlad had been up to.

And Vlad was in human form. Not like he could transform any faster than Danny if shit was about to go down.

The decision pretty much took itself out of his hands when the door began to open and Danny jumped back out of grabbing reach (just in case) and changed back.

Which was when he remembered what he was wearing.

Lunch with Vlad Masters had been… informative, and Bruce was a little surprised just how much time had passed.

Masters might be an unscrupulous businessman but he was clearly devoted to the things he cared for; Daniel Fenton, Amity Park, and the Green Bay Packers.

He just couldn’t quite reconcile how those three pieces fit into the picture at hand. To hear Vlad tell it, nothing untoward had happened in Amity Park in his whole time as mayor. And yet… the calls were real.

Even if Masters hadn’t hit the button personally, someone in his office must have.

Was there a chance that Danny had some sort of mind control abilities? That he’d removed the memories of those in Amity Park who’d opposed him?

It would explain why Masters would so fervently champion a boy he’d had almost nothing to do with. Oh, Danny Fenton had been born to two of Masters’ college friends, but they hadn’t seen each other for years before Danny’s birth.

As far as Bruce could tell the two had never even met before Danny was at least fourteen; Vlad had lived in an actual castle in Wisconsin and been a regular on the gala circuit for his area.

Friend of the family or not, it was suspicious that the only adults he’d spoken to so far had such diametrically opposed views on Danny.

Vlad was obviously hiding something. About Amity Park, Bruce was completely certain. The man’s accounts simply did not add up with the evidence. About Danny…

Bruce had his suspicions, but there was very little clear evidence about the man himself. Danny was technically an unknown quantity. And the center of far too many mysteries for Bruce’s peace of mind.

Bruce slipped away to the bathroom to let his thoughts settle not too long into Vlad’s lecture on the history of the Packers.

If Danny was coming from the manor they had a while yet before he’d be there, so he could let Vlad ramble on for a while once he returned.

His cheeks hurt from keeping up Brucie’s smile, but that was nothing new. The gala last night was still weighing on him, but it made it easier to put the act back on.

If Danny was coming here, and would accompany Bruce back to the manor, they would have a while to talk in the traffic. Finally a chance to speak to the man himself and let Bruce get an unbiased read.

Something had happened before Vlad claimed to have received a message from Danny. Something that made him start, and while it could have been the man’s phone, Bruce doubted it.

Even silent vibrations actually made some sound, and Vlad had barely glanced at the device. Not long enough to read any kind of complicated message; he hadn’t even unlocked it.

Vlad must have thought he was hiding it, but he’d been amused by whatever happened. Amused, and known immediately it was Danny. That Danny was coming.

Whatever else he might be, Vlad was certainly not a particularly skilled liar. Not to Batman.

Washing his hands, Bruce wondered if he might not be able to get Vlad back onto the subject of how Danny would be coming.

On his own, or at least Vlad hadn’t mentioned anyone else. And using Bruce’s car to get back? There were hardly bus routes between the manor and the city.

Unless Danny had some kind of meta abilities. Damian’s report had included his suspicions, and Duke and Dick had both seen him fly away.

That would put him here sooner than expected, but Bruce was certain he’d have noticed a flying meta in his city. Unless Danny only flew for certain situations.

Bruce paused at the door to their private room for half a second, letting his Brucie mask settle comfortably into place. Letting the smile spread. And pushed the door open.

Something bright flashed inside and Bruce tensed, anticipating a trap. One he would have no choice but to fall into, as he was now. But as the door cleared, he saw…

Vlad at the table, just as Bruce had left him. And Danny Fenton settling like he’d just moved sharply, wide blue eyes and messy hair above a shirt that was far too large for him tied off at his waist, and.

And.

Impractical for the weather. The trousers were closer to the right size, but arms and feet were bare, along with a slice of midriff.

Completely dry. It was still snowing, and the streets were covered in snow and slush. There was a slim chance he’d left a coat somewhere, but even his hair was dry.

Windswept and dishevelled hair, suggesting flight. His boys were right, and Bruce made a note to check in with Oracle later. See if he had been detected in the air.

Startled by his presence. Likely not because he didn’t expect Bruce to be there, not if he’d come expressly to pick him up. More that he’d been distracted by whatever had him moving so sharply.

Staring at him.

And then there was nothing else to observe, except…

Wearing one of Jason’s shirts. One that Dick had given him as a joke. It hung off him, exacerbating their size difference.

Danny was small. Closer to Cass’s size, and this close up Bruce could see the lean muscle, but there wasn’t much of it.

In pure hand to hand Bruce could probably take him, but whatever abilities let him tank a fight with Killer Croc left the actual outcome an unknown.

Blinking hard to distract himself from just how and why Danny had managed to show up in Jason’s clothes, he pulled on his big happy Brucie smile for the room.

And suddenly Vlad was incensed.

Bruce would swear the man had been smiling when he opened the door, but at some point while Bruce gave Danny a quick once over his mood had turned to rage.

He smothered it down quickly, but his jaw was still tight when he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Daniel, I believe this is the first time you have met Brucie,” Vlad said, his tone so frosty Bruce nearly shivered.

Not controlled by Danny then. At least, not controlled in a way that made him deferential. Not unless this was a slip in Danny’s control.

The boy looked startled still, looking down at himself like he’d forgotten what he was wearing and giving Bruce a sheepish smile.

Honestly he could have been wearing the world’s finest suit and not allayed any of Bruce’s suspicions, but it wasn’t Brucie’s job to let that show.

Instead he cranked the smile up a couple more notches, stepping forward and holding out a hand to shake.

“Yes, Danny, my kids simply won’t stop talking about you! I was sorry I couldn’t say hello last night,” he added, wanting to see how Danny would react to a little dig.

Nothing he couldn’t deny as being purely sincere.

Danny made a face and then pulled a smile on over it, stepping forward quickly to shake Bruce’s hand.

Some people only needed touch to take control of another. Bruce felt nothing of the sort, but Danny’s hand was oddly cool. Not unaffected by his clothing then.

“Yeah… sorry about that. About… well, all of it,” Danny said with a sheepish smile and one shoulder shrug that nearly had the shirt’s overlarge neckline fall off his other shoulder.

He scrabbled to right it, and Bruce firmly stifled the impulse to relax.

It was familiar, something any of his kids might have done. It could easily be an act to lure him into a false calm.

Brucie laughed and clapped him on the other shoulder, keeping half an eye on Vlad, who was still stewing at the table.

“Oh, I certainly got up to much worse in my day. You’re only young once, right?” He offered jovially, tipping Danny a playboy wink.

The boy blushed to the roots of his hair.

Interesting.

As much as Bruce wanted to pull at Vlad a little more, try and work out his sudden change of mood, he would much rather begin his observations of Danny Fenton directly.

“Still, we should get going or we’ll miss all of dinner,” he said with a cheerful smile, nodding to Vlad. “Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Vlad! Maybe we’ll catch a football game before the season ends.”

The man’s disposition brightened like he’d flicked a switch, though he still shot Danny an almost smug dirty look.

“Oh, that would be charming, Brucie. I’ll get you tickets for the Packers’ next game, we’ll have a splendid time.”

Danny snickered beside him, shoving his hands in his pockets and grinning back. Not afraid of Vlad either, for all that the other man was older, richer, and more influential.

“Yeah, Vladdie here knows aaaall about packers,” he said with a sly smirk, looking down on Vlad from his standing position.

Vlad responded with a look that Bruce had previously only seen on Clark’s face, around when Dick started teaching Kon sex jokes. And in the mirror.

Steph called it the “your puberty was my death sentence” look and insisted every one of the mentors used it. Bruce personally wasn’t convinced Oliver Queen knew what shame meant.

He’d abandoned his son. Bruce would never forgive that until Roy asked him to.

Perhaps he did have more in common with Vlad than he’d thought though. Watching the children get old enough for innuendo sucked.

Luckily Brucie could pretend not to get it.

“I know, he was telling me all about their recent games before you arrived,” he said cheerfully, oblivious as anything. And watched how both responded to innocence.

Vlad still looked pained, possibly by the pair of them now. Danny… Danny was smirking, clearly not convinced.

That was concerning. The boy knew who Nightwing and Signal were, there was a chance he knew Bruce’s identity too and this at least pointed in the same direction.

Still, no need to confirm anything for him. With another cheery wave to Vlad he held the door open for Danny.

“So, shall we? Would you like to take my car or do you have your own way back?” He asked, subtly prodding to see what Danny might say. And perhaps a hint how he’d gotten there.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing at Vlad. Like there was something between them, something to do with him.

Yes, Bruce would have to meet with Vlad Masters again in future. After he’d gotten to speak to Danny.

“I’ll come back with you,” Danny said with a shrug, nodding towards the door and then moving through it at Bruce’s wave.

He kept half an eye on the boy as they headed down to the restaurant’s garage and the sleek black car Bruce had driven over.

It’d be at least twenty minutes to drive back to the manor at this hour, maybe longer. Time enough for a short interrogation.

“I already messaged the others and told them to get started without us, I hope you don’t mind,” he said in his best charming Brucie voice, beeping the car to unlock it.

Danny shrugged, moving around to the passenger door, apparently entirely unbothered by bare feet on freezing concrete. Bruce almost wished he had some spare shoes for him.

“Yeah, it’s cool. I figured. So, any idea how long it’ll be to get back?” He asked, slipping into the car and sitting cross legged on the front seat.

Bruce followed suit, turning on the car and then the heat right away. Doing what he could.

“Probably not more than twenty minutes. Your seat is heated too by the way, here. You made it down very quickly, were you in the area?” Bruce asked, watching Danny from the corner of his eye as he strapped in.

Would Danny just tell him?

He’d not been hiding from the boys. If he really didn’t think this had to be a secret, he could just tell Bruce.

Danny shrugged again, opened his mouth, and Bruce’s phone rang, cutting him off.

His phone should be on silent. Bruce gave Danny an apologetic smile, pulling it out and planning to push the caller to voice mail. Wondering if he might have turned the ringer back on without meaning to. Or if Oracle had pushed through.

There was no one else he needed to talk to more than Danny right now.

Of course the universe would mock him for that thought.

The caller ID blinked accusingly up at him from the lock screen.

John fucking Constantine.

Bruce hesitated for a moment. Torn. The mystery or the responsibility?

Any other member of the Justice League would be ranked as a more reliable source of information than a possible suspect, but after the night Bruce had had? After what he’d learned?

The problems in Amity Park may have begun or ended with Danny Fenton, but the problems in the Justice League traced neatly back to John Constantine.

When it came down to it, Bruce knew he had a responsibility.

He gave Danny another, more apologetic smile.

“So sorry… do you mind if I take this quickly?” He asked, holding the phone carefully so Danny couldn’t see the screen.

The boy’s face cracked into a grin and he shrugged a third time, getting comfy in the expensive leather seat.

“Hey, if you keep one eye on the road you’ll be the safest driver I’ve ever ridden with. You don’t wanna be too late though, you’ve got another extra guest for dinner and she seemed real impatient,” he said with a slight smile, turning on his heated seat.

About to get out of the car, Bruce paused again.

“Oh? Who was that?” He asked half rhetorically, already listing the women in his life who could possibly make this situation worse.

Top of the list…

“Harley Quinn.”

Of course.

What did she want now?

Bruce forced himself not to think about it, swinging up and out of the car and holding the phone to his ear.

One disaster at a time. No matter how many the universe was piling in his lap after nearly a month of nothing. He’d known it was too good to be true.

At least the garage was empty, and the car soundproofed. Danny wouldn’t hear a thing.

“Constantine. How did you get this number?”

In a secluded corner of the House of Mystery everyone’s favourite magical scapegoat stubbed out a cigarette and reclined back in his seat.

“Oh, is this not fun when people do it to you? And here’s me thinkin’ barging into other peoples’ business was how you lot showed affection,” he said dryly, fingers tapping off the glowing purple ward scrawled on the phone case.

Phone numbers were for plebs.

He could fuckin’ hear Bats grinding his teeth through the phone. And yeah, maybe winding him up further wasn’t the best idea, but fuck it.

If John had good ideas, he’d never have given the fucking Justice League his contact info. Case in point.

Winding up the big Bat was the price they all had to pay for royally pissing him off all fuckin’ night and all fuckin’ day.

Kept an impressive handle on the growl though. Must have been somewhere semi-private.

“Constantine. You’ve been out of touch for more than eighteen hours and there is a serious-”

John cut him off, waving his cigarette around as if he could shush the man from here.

“Oh no no, big boy, you’re not fuckin’ blaming that on me. You’re the one fucking up all my communicators, and you’re going to fuckin’ stop. Now.”

And yeah, maybe he did enjoy the very tiniest inhale of surprise he could hear. Or was that Batsy counting to ten?

“What do you mean.” The trademarked growl was definitely creeping in, private place or not. Well, good. John being too annoying to kill was what kept him alive.

Better spell it out for the fucker though.

“I’m a fuckin’ magician, Batlad. On a couple of Hell’s most fuckin’ wanted lists. I can’t be fuckin’ found by people fuckin’ wishing me fuckin’ harm, and let me tell you how goddamn delighted I am to learn that that now includes you!”

All he’d wanted to do today was drop off some results for the junior spandex brigade about some of the glyphs and wards they’d found at a dig.

Just trying to stop them from blowing their fucking hands off. A humanitarian mission. John fuckin’ hated kids. Handless kids only slightly worse.

And he couldn’t contact a single member of the fuckin’ Justice League because some asshole was trying to use them to hunt him down.

Zatanna had needed to come to the House personally to circumvent the wards she’d helped him build.

(Good to know how well they worked though. Assuming they were working and he’d done something to piss off the big Bat enough that he was out for blood.

There was technically a chance they’d been calibrated wrong and Batsy wanted to bring him ham. Less likely than harm, in John’s humble opinion.)

Still, the only way to unfuck his communications was to find and defuse whatever had pissed the skulky bitch off, and while Zatanna had agreed to drop off his work for the kids, he needed to know what else they’d found.

He so was not going to fucking Alaska in January.

And with that as his alternative, John forced his most chipper smile onto his lips. Apparently people could sense that through phones. Who fuckin’ knew.

“So. You’ve fuckin’ got me. What the hell do you want?”

—————

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear

Next Chapter:

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dp x dc #dpxdc #dead on main #dead on main ship #danny x jason #chapter 10 #that’s not a twink that’s an anime girl #i regret nothing #also i want the shirt #real bad #ghost king danny #halfa jason todd #fright knight jason todd

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havendance · 3 days ago

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Tagged by @acediscowlng and @dustorange!

Tagging: uhhhh, I don't know who has or hasn't been tagged and I am too tired to figure out so if you haven't been tagged yet and you're interested, consider yourself tagged by me!

number of stories posted to ao3: This is the year I got involved in multiple niche archives so counting up everything gets a little more tricky. I posted a total of 26 fics this year! (17 to ao3, 3 exclusive to Superlove, and an extra 6 on CFAA). I also did a lot of prompt events and writing challenges this year so a lot of these works are shorter, only 8 being over 1500 words.

word counted posted for last year: 41,501! Less than last year, but I got into a really good writing grove last year whereas this year I had to worry about graduating and finding a job and actually driving on my commute instead of writing.

fandoms i wrote for: It’s all DC comics baby (except for the short Saga fic I wrote)

pairings: A bit of everything really. I think Helena & Barbara is the combo that stands out. Been thinking more about Helena/Dick as well though I only wrote a little thing for it.

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads: Batman for Dummies comes out on top, but since I only posted the epilogue for it in 2024, I’m ignoring it in favor of Help! I was Reborn as Robin’s Father! which makes since as the fic I wrote that’s probably the most accessible to the larger fandom audience.

work i’m most proud of (and why): Hmm I think probably either Delta T or Cassanda Cain: Orpheus Special #1.I’m just really happy with how both of them turned out.

work i’m least proud of (and why): I as a manner of policy, don’t like to talk about my negative feelings towards my fics publicly, but I have to say probably white knight | black knight. This was my first time doing a mini-bang event and I feel like this fic could’ve used about 6 months of time to sit and a second draft but with the pressure of the deadline, I couldn’t give it that. I’m hoping I can look back and appreciate it more later, but for now it’s still got that feel of it in my mind.

share or describe a favorite review you received: I have gotten so many lovely comments this year and you all are wonderful, but I want to give a shout out to Scilly’s comment on Fatherhood for Dummies because you are like the Jack and Dana expert to me so I was so glad that you liked it <3 Also Melo left a wonderful comment on Wild Roses that I treasure.

a time when writing was really, really hard:

white knight | black knight 😔 I just hit a wall there and needed to keep pushing. Figuring out how to write the first scene between Cass and Shiva in Cassandra Cain: Orpheus Special #1 was also tricky but satisfying when I was able to get it done.

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Hmm I’m not sure if anything really did. There was a whole Helena & Barbara subplot that sprouted up in Delta T but I don’t think that was really a surprise lol.

a favourite excerpt of your writing:

how did you grow as a writer last year:

I tried a lot of new things last year, a chunk of which has not actually seen the light of day, but whatever. I signed up for a lot more things and wrote a lot of little stuff.

how do you hope to grow this year:

Hmmm, I think I’d like to work more on tackling my multi-chapter fic ideas. So far I’ve been able to do it with ideas that have a limited number of chapters, but I have ones that feel less structured that I keep foundering on and I want to get them on page! (See: the spyral fic, the knightfall fic I still think about sometimes, I have a War Games idea that probably won’t come to anything, Black Queen)

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.):

I would like to give shout outs to Zahri for always leaving lovely comments, Mika for my Cass week stuff, and Scilly whose posts have given me several ideas to poke away at <3

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year:

I actually don’t think so. Though I did write that one self-insert…

any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year:

I sort of touched on this already but I really want to get back to the Robins don’t make great roomates universe this year! I’ve got a few different wips I want to get finished up and some ideas I’d love to get to (Nightwing: Year One, that Spyral fic) but I’ll have to see where things take me!

#havendance writes #carthago delenda est

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harpersdragons · 5 months ago

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Doomed by the Narrative

Jason messed up on a mission, and like his usual dramatic self, blows it a little out of proportion and panics.

AKA 2800 words of Jason spiraling

TW: panic attack, dissociation, mild suicidal thoughts? (There’s a bit where he thinks he’s better off dead)

If there’s something else let me know

Fic below the cut, and here’s the link on ao3:

The wind sweeps through Jason’s hair, his helmet behind him on the roof. Gotham has an over abundance of gargoyles, some which are still stable enough to hold his weight. The ledge he’s in is small—more suited to teenaged him, but this was his favorite roof.

It’s tall, positioned where you can see most of the city.

He breathes deeply, head braced against the gargoyle behind him—looking at where stars /should/ be—arms resting on his knees.

He’d fucked up tonight.

He’d fucked up massively.

Dick almost died because of him.

/Damian/ almost died because of him

/Tick

Tick

The sound echoes in Jason’s head, his bones, his very being.

Why tonight, why this mission?

He should move, do something. Maybe warn the others?

He’s supposed to be clearing the warehouse with Dick and Damian, he should warn them, get them out. But he can’t move, he’s frozen, his mouth won’t form the warning.

Tick

Something slams into him, right before heat sears through him.

Dick’s groaning on top of him, taking most of the heat of the fire.

How did he let this happen?

He’ll never be allowed back now.

The bomb was far enough away to not kill them, but it still sucked ass.

He drags Dick up, tosses him at Bruce, and runs./

He can’t help but draw similarities to his favorite tragedies.

Running away, never looking back like Orpheus saving his wife.

There’s more, Jason’s mind is racing between the self deprecating thoughts and the analogies.

But the height of his perch, the way the gentle breeze brushes through his hair, brings him out of his spiral briefly. He can almost pretend it’s Bruce, running his fingers through Jason’s hair, soothing him after a nightmare.

That’s his Achilles Heel, his weakness: the way he craves the comfort of a family he drove away.

Gotham’s air could never be considered fresh, too smoggy, too polluted, but it’s home.

It’s /his/ home.

His home, which he may have to say goodbye to.

Everything he’s been working towards with the Bats, gone.

Gone in a single instant.

All because Jason froze.

It was a damn warehouse, they were locked in, and there was the ticking of a bomb.

A sick parody of his death.

Except

This time he wasn’t alone.

There’s no way they’ll invite him back now.

He’d tried.

He’d tried /so hard/

And it wasn’t enough.

Bruce doesn’t want him, won’t want him, /can’t/ want him.

He’s a danger, why would any father want him around their kids? Even his own father shouldn’t want that..

Jason can’t even keep his head in the field. All the work he’s done to reclaim his trauma, to prove he’s /better/ than that, failed.

Looks like he’s a long way from Prometheus, he’s never been able to reclaim his fire.

He’s still fucked up, still useless.

All it took was a ticking noise and a warehouse.

The circumstances were vastly different.

There were no chains, no joker, no /crowbar/—barring the one strapped to his back, now laying next to his helmet. Hell, he even had company! He wasn’t facing it alone, and yet he still froze.

Boots thump against the ground—clearly intentional, it’s the Bat after all—accompanied by the quiet swish of a long cape.

Of course, there are other bats with capes: Red Robin and Robin, Spoiler and Black Bat, pretty much everyone but him and Dick.

But with the weight behind the drop, and the fact that Batman’s cape has a distinctive sound—if you know what to listen for—all leads to it being the big Bat.

Exactly the person who’s arrival he was dreading.

He knew it was inevitable. Hell, he wasn’t even hiding, or running. He just wished it wasn’t the case. He’d wondered if Bruce would give him a day or two, wanting to be with his real children, to reassure himself they survived despite Jason’s fuck-up.

“Hood.” Bruce growls. His voice is low and dark, only spelling out the anger hiding beneath.

“I know. I fucked up, it was dangerous and reckless and I endangered everyone. If I say I’m sorry,” he’s not really, is he? Can you be sorry if it’s something you can’t control? “Will you spare me the lecture?”

He knows the lecture is coming, almost nothing is a big enough excuse to get out of the lectures. He may be resigned to it, but he’d like to at least pretend he’s not used to it.

It’s all he gets now.

/“Jason, you’re being reckless”

“You’re dangerous”

“You lack control”/

And on and on and on

He’s /sick/ of it. Yet he can’t yell, or fight, and god knows he can’t /leave/.

He can’t force himself to give this up, he can’t leave his family. Even if they don’t want him. Even if he’ll never be a true member again.

But was he ever?

He was never truly accepted. Not by Dick, not by society. Who knows if Bruce actually wanted him there or was pitying him.

He’s just the /poor, starving street rat.

“Are you ok?” Bruce’s low voice shocks him out of his thoughts again.

“I…am uninjured.”

Is he ok?

He’s not totally present, he wouldn’t know.

Or rather, he’s /too present/, and yet disconnected from his feelings.

His mind’s spinning, it’s racing and it won’t stop.

But there’s no emotion tied to the thoughts.

How can there be?

He’s been waiting for this moment since he started reintegrating back into the family. The moment where they kick him to the curb, tell him he’s not worth it and he never was.

He could still leave, he has his grapple. He could jump off, run away /again/.

He could stand and fight. Turn around, close the distance, and scream at Bruce until he’s hoarse, or it escalates to something physical.

His heart stutters at the thought.

He may love fighting, he relishes in seeing that vein pop out in Bruce’s forehead, the way his lips purse in displeasure, but he can’t do it tonight.

He can’t—

“—ood!” Apparently Bruce has been talking for a while. Interesting. “Jason!” That really startles Jason. Bruce has rarely ever broken his “no names in the field rule”.

Whatever it is must be important.

“Jaylad, I need you to answer me, son, I need you to breathe.”

Wait. That was him, wasn’t it? Bruce was calling to him? He was calling him son, breaking one of his most important rules, for /Jason/?

He turns his head, making eye contact with Bruce. He must’ve retracted the white lenses at some point.

“There you are lad,” Bruce’s voice is soft, he must’ve turned the voice modulator off at some point. “Can you come over here? I can’t get to you on that ledge.”

Bruce is crouching on the edge of the roof, arm outstretched to him.

“You with me, bud? I just need you to grab my hand.”

Jason can do that, right? That seems easy.

Bruce isn’t asking a lot.

Seems hard though. His limbs aren’t obeying him, he can’t raise his arm, can’t force himself to stand up.

He manages to shake his head ever so slightly, eyes pleading with Bruce to understand, to get what he’s saying without having to say anything.

“No? No what, Jay? Can’t move?”

Jason nods at that, trying again to force his arm to work.

“Ok, ok we can sit here a bit longer. How about you try taking some deep breaths for me? I’ll lead, just try and follow.”

Jason acknowledges Bruce the best he can, and his father starts the familiar breathing sequence.

Jason begins to feel his body again, he didn’t even realize when he stopped.

On his last exhale, he’s able to shift, bracing his hands against his knees and pushing up.

“There we go, chum. Take it slow, alright?”

Jason stands, keeping a hand braced on the gargoyle. For the first time in a very long time, his vision swims when he takes in the height.

“D’d?” His tongue feels heavy, mouth not quite cooperating enough to form all the sounds.

There’s a sharp inhale from the figure across from him. The swirling black against the—mostly—gray sky.

“I’m here, Jaylad, I’m here. You can do it, just come to me.”

His limbs are still sluggish, but he can do it, right? It’s just 2 steps. Two steps and he’ll be near Bruce, he’ll be with his dad.

But…

Does his father really want him there?

His thoughts keep coming back to that.

The endless circle of self doubt.

Everything about this situation points to Bruce caring about him. Wanting him back.

But does he actually?

Is this a ploy?

“Deep breaths, Jay, you can do it, I believe in you.”

Oh, his breathing sped up again, didn’t it?

Jason just needs to get to Bruce, take the two steps off the ledge and back into the roof.

He starts forward, breathing fast, heart pounding in his chest.

One step,

Just one more,

He stumbles and—

He falls.

Distantly, he can hear Bruce yell, see the black shape dive after him.

They say Icarus laughed as he fell.

Overcome with joy, with freedom, he laughed.

Jason…didn’t quite laugh, but how else can he explain the sense of calm, of peace settling over him.

This was always his favorite part of flying through Gotham, this falling.

The swoop of his stomach before he shot the grapple line.

He knows he should be grabbing the grapple, it should be instinctual.

It always has been. Until now.

What if this is how it’s meant to be?

Surely his family is better without him.

They made it through his death once, surely they could do it again.

He’s always been a Greek tragedy, doomed by the narrative, right there with Achilles, Patroclus, and all the other Greek heroes of old.

At least they were worth something, they were /good/ (mostly).

A force slams into him, knocking out whatever air was left in his lungs.

Bruce had caught him, Bruce knew what to do.

He was twisting them in the air, firing the grapple line in the same move.

The line pulls taut, yanking them upwards /hard/. He hears Bruce grunt at the impact on his shoulder.

It still wasn’t enough, they slam into the ground, with just enough momentum taken out if it so that the fall doesn’t seriously injure them.

Bruce takes the brunt of it, covering Jason with his body, his free arm covering Jason’s head.

Bruce groans, body twisting under Jason.

This is Jason’s fault.

Bruce is hurting because of him.

First Dick and Damian, now Bruce. Jason hurts everything and everyone around him.

He needs to leave. /Now/.

He shoves himself up, forcing heavy limbs to work, and stumbles off of Bruce.

He can hear the alarmed shout and Bruce scrambling to get up, but he doesn’t stop.

He /can’t/ stop.

He doesn’t make it far, his legs give out and he collapses back to the pavement. He can’t help the way he curls up, trying to force himself back to his feet and ultimately failing.

Heavy arms encircle him, propping him upright against a broad chest.

Bruce’s fingers find his hair, stroking through it soothingly. Jason’s muscles are tense, he sits rigidly in Bruce’s arms.

It shouldn’t be comfortable, and yet it is. It’s the most comfortable Jason’s felt in a /long/ time.

“I got you, you’re safe now. Everything we’ll be ok, we’re going to go home.”

Home.

Does he have a home? It sounds nice. He finds himself relaxing, slowly intending his muscles, breathing finally evening out.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jason is bundled into the Batmobile. Bruce never lets him go, setting the autopilot and then holding him tight the whole way back.

He’s starting to come back to himself when they pull into the cave. He can’t bring himself to worry about what that means, what his punishment will be for screwing the mission up and almost costing Dick and Damian’s lives.

Aforementioned brothers are pacing the cave when Bruce pulls him out of the car. Well, Damian is pacing and it looks like Dick is following him and trying to herd him upstairs.

“—just wait upstairs! B will bring Jason up eventually!”

Damian is ignoring Dick, and is the first to notice their arrival. The kid has one arm in a sling, and a couple visible cuts and bruises, but otherwise appears fine.

Dick is outwardly limping, his posture slumped as if compensating for broken ribs.

Jason can’t see the burns, but he knows they’re there. Because of him.

“You /both/ should be resting upstairs. It’s been a tough night.” Bruce cuts in from his position next to Jason. He’d been guiding Jason towards the med bay, keeping him close.

“C’mon, B, did you really think we’d listen? The only reason the others aren’t down here is because Alfred put his foot down.”

Bruce settles Jason on the cot, and Jason slumps forward to rest his head on Bruce’s chest. Now that the adrenaline has bled out of him, he’s just /tired/.

“Hey, Jaylad, just a little longer, ok? I need to get your armor off.” Jason grumbles his assent, but makes no move to help. Bruce finds the latches on his chest piece, jacket ditched a while ago—maybe in the car? Jason’s not quite sure—and slips it off. It’s followed by his guns, which are unloaded and put safely into his locker.

Bruce feels along his ribs and chest, asking Jason to take a couple breaths as he does so.

Jason follows all the orders mindlessly, anything to get him closer to sleeping.

Eventually, Bruce finishes his check up and hesitates, “I need to go change, lad, will you be alright here?”

“Mmph.”

There’s a sigh from above him, and Bruce’s fingers return to his hair.

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

Hands—Damian’s one good hand, both of Dick’s, he guesses—and towards the wall. He’s dimly aware of Bruce stepping away, and one of them helps him change out of his uniform pants and into sweats, leaving. When that’s done, Damian and Dick slip into place on the table next to him, holding him tight.

“Akhi?”

Jason hums his acknowledgment, but can’t bring himself to actually speak. He knows he should be embarrassed at showing this much weakness to his baby brother, but he can’t help it. He’s barely in control of his body, and he feels like Atlas, weighed down by an impossible burden.

Or maybe Sisyphus is the better analogy.

He’s been working nonstop to redeem himself, prove himself worthy, until his body gave out, like Sisyphus pushing the rock uphill for eternity, always a battle, a struggle, he can never win.

But maybe it’ll be different for Jason? Maybe this can change. Maybe he can accept help, maybe his family /does/ want him.

Dick’s fingers slide through his hair, Damian’s hand is at his back, rubbing soothing circles. One of them is humming, and he doesn’t know which.

Eventually—Jason’s unsure how much time has passed—Bruce shows back up in front of them, dressed in loose sweatpants and a soft t-shirt.

“Come on, Akhi, come with us.” Damian’s voice is soft and coaxing, he and Dick guide Jason off the table and towards the elevator. Bruce is close at their backs, and Jason leans heavily on Dick.

Jason is only dimly aware of being led through the manor, pausing briefly at the heavy oak door leading to Bruce’s room.

The rest of his siblings are all there, Tim, Steph, Cass, all curled up in the bed. Cass sits up and blinks owlishly, tilting her head as she takes in Jason’s body language. He fidgets under the scrutiny, and Damian still tugs him forward.

Cass’ face softens at whatever she sees, and reaches out her hand. He takes it, and they all climb in the bed.

After some maneuvering, and careful jostling of Tim and Steph, Jason is situated in the middle of the pile, with Bruce at his back holding him securely. Damian fits himself between Jason and Tim, and Dick between Damian and Tim.

This is even better than being held earlier, now there’s no hard armor digging into him.

He can hear soft murmuring, but surely it’s not important. Not when he’s so tired, and wholly safe for the first time in years.

Nothing is quite fixed, yet it feels like it might be able to be fixed.

Whatever happens later, right now Jason is safe.

Without anything else stopping him, Jason finally lets Morpheus pull him under, dropping into the comforting darkness.

#batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam #my fics #Jason is a drama queen #he just wants to be loved #and accepted by his family

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little-annie · 11 months ago

Text

Tape N⁰1

---

Steddie | 4.6k 🔞

Read on ao3 ⤵️

---

Okay, so maybe Steve Harrington was a little, just a touch, Bi- Curious.

A term he'd learnt from Robin when he'd mentioned his curious thoughts from his teen years-

Everyone feels this way, right? Like, guys dream about other guys but also girls, so that's not gay, right? And it's totally normal to feel my heartbeat pick up when a man gets naked on TV, right? Everyone feels that way about Johnny Depp, he's a good looking guy.

-and she explained to him, quite simply, "Steve, honey, that's kinda gay." To which he responded with a simple "Huh," and then was instructed to maybe watch a gay porn and see how it makes him feel. He supposed it was the safest option anyway. Going out to a bar and picking up a guy could go wrong in more ways than one. He liked his face, thought it was quite pretty actually and didn't want to have it rearranged along with his brain for yet another time. At least with watching a tape, he was safe and not using another person for his self exploration. Well, like with porn that's what the actors expected and consented to upon filming. Right? So what's the harm?

—

Their morning was the usual, Steve waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go out for a run, getting home just in time to witness Eddie shuffling from the kitchen to the living room, settling onto the couch with his feet tucked beneath him, holding a large mug that contained probably a pound of sugar and a few dozen ounces of coffee. His hair was ungodly, smashed flat on one side and frizzy to all hell on the other. Always ringless and clad in simple grey sweatpants or sometimes just his boxers. The sight alone made Steve's stomach flutter, let alone the fact that he was the only person on the planet that got to witness Eddie in this form.

Sleepy and a touch grumpy because "Jesus H. Christ, Steve, close the damn blinds, it's too early for sunshine,” Eddie was never a morning person or for as long as Steve knew him anyway. The young metalhead getting out of bed and wanting pure silence and dim lighting to slowly ease him into the land of the living, plus needing a terrifying amount of caffeine and sugar to consider him a functional human being, maybe some people would think he was a dick in the morning but if Steve was honest with himself, he kinda loved it.

On the mornings where Eddie didn't come shuffling out of his room like a grumpy gremlin, maybe because he had a nightmare and couldn't sleep and didn't want to wake Steve up for the third time that week to climb into his bed for moral support, Steve would brew him a cup of coffee, make his favourite for breakfast (chocolate chip pancakes) and knock gently on his door, to say a quiet good morning and set the tray of goodies on the floor in front of Eddie's door for when he got up.

But this morning, the pair had some time for each other, a rare occurrence for their mornings. Steve's classes didn't start until 1pm and Eddie was up before he'd left. Steve drew the blinds closed, allowing only a gentle flow of sunshine to enter the room and sat on the opposite end of the couch before taking a chance to talk to Eddie before 9am.

Gently nudging the other man's thigh with his socked foot, Steve gained Eddie's attention, though his expression with something combined of a scowl and smile, like he was trying to keep up his grumpy morning routine but didn't entirely hate Steve.

"You sleep alright last night?"

The doe eyed man simply shook his head before he took a long sigh, slouching deeper into the couch and spoke, voice still gravely from sleep or more likely the lack of, "No, but I have to mail a few packages and actually have shit to do today, so here I am, amongst the living far too early for a man who only just fell asleep at 4am."

That wasn't totally out of the ordinary, Eddie was a bit of a night owl, but he looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and complexion somehow whiter than usual. "Nightmares?" Steve asked, knowing the answer was more likely than not a yes.

Eddie hummed an affirmative, taking another sip of his coffee and scowling out the window when he heard a car alarm outside begin to go off

"You know, if it still helps, you're always more than welcome to wake me up or join me. I don't mind. I'd rather lose a few minutes myself while you climb into bed versus you losing several hours." If anything, it made Steve's nights easier too, he still had nightmares but after years of coping with them on his own, he had a system down. Wake up, have a shower, maybe go for a walk and just start his day from there, as long as it was after 4 am anyway. But with Eddie by his side, he felt safe, hardly had nightmares when the man was in his bed and conscious of it or not, Eddie always seemed to know when they did occur. Rolling over in bed to pull Steve against his chest or carding his fingers through his hair.

But last time that happened, they woke up nothing short of tangled together, morning wood ever present and Eddie quite literally springing from bed upon the realisation. At first Steve was hurt, but like he kinda gets it now, he knows Eddie's gay, the guy probably felt guilty or something of that sort upon realising their predicament. But it's not like he knew Steve was (probably/ realising he was at the time) Bi-Sexual and honestly was kinda into the metalhead. Hell, if Steve woke up hard and cuddled into a friend he thought was straight, his reaction would probably be the same.

"Eddie I mean it,-" Steve persisted after receiving a noncommittal nod as an answer, "-if you're worried about last time,-" Eddie's gaze shifted to meet his once again, amber eyes hooded by dark thick lashes, a subtle blush creeping up the young man's cheeks, "- don't be, I didn't mind."

"You didn't mind," Eddie quietly scoffs, "-you didn't mind your raging homosexual of a roommate getting a stiffy in your bed? Ha, sure Harrington. Let alone it digging into your thigh?" He scoffs again, averting his eyes back to a random stain on the carpet in front of him, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks behind his coffee mug.

Shrugging, feigning confidence and totally not freaking out over his minor confession, Steve remains persistent, "Didn't mind it."

It was then that he watched Eddie's nose crinkle and brow furrow, an indecipherable look on his face that only grew more puzzling to understand as his eyes shifted back to meet Steve's. Almost like he was searching for something but wasn't quite sure what.

They remained silent for a few minutes, the ambient sound of the city bleeding through their brick walls and into their bones, the sound of coffee being sipped and shallow almost anxious breathing.

Then it occurred to Steve, if Eddie was going to be out this morning maybe he'd finally have time to watch one of those tapes Robin suggested. "Hey, um, wh- when are you gonna be back?"

Eddie hummed in question, taking a sip of his coffee, refusing to look at the man next to him.

"When will you be back? I uh, I could try to have lunch ready for you before I leave for class." Not that he wasn't asking an honest question, he was, he'd probably pop a frozen lasagna in the oven to be ready for when Eddie got home, but he also wanted to know how much time he had to himself for his 'research' while Eddie was out.

"Eleven, maybe." Eddie quietly spoke into his mug, downing the rest of his coffee, getting up and quietly padding back to the kitchen.

Before Eddie could disappear back into his room, Steve spoke up glancing at the stack of boxes piled by their front door, "Okay, well, I'll have something ready for lunch before I leave then. Hey, uh, you need some help getting those boxes down to your van?”

Eddie worked his jaw, seeming to consider the offer before drawing in a silent breath and waving Steve off with a flick of the wrist, "Don't you worry your pretty little head Harrington, I got it."

—

Twenty minutes later Eddie was making his way out the door, boxes in hand as he smiled and wished Steve a good rest of his morning.

And okay, so maybe the indication of how excited Steve was to watch those tapes should have been proof enough.

Perched by the window his heart hammered in his chest as he waited to watch Eddie drive off in his van. No more than seconds later did Steve find himself scrambling to his room, digging out the tape from under his bed and popping it into the VCR in the living room.

Much too eager to even take the extra few steps to the couch, Steve plopped down feet from the TV and sat crisscrossed, waiting for the tape to roll.

Whoever had the tape before (which ew, now that Steve thought about that, hopefully the guy washed his hands) neglected to rewind the tape and apparently so did the video store. Without much warning the deep growl of moans began to pour from the TV in front of him and a blur of bare, tanned, hairy skin danced across the TV. It took a moment for Steve to process what was actually happening, but at least he wasn't appalled so that meant something he guessed and the sound of a man's deep groan made his briefs tighten, but immediately he knew this specific tape wasn't for him. He supposed he didn't find the men attractive, they were good looking, sure, but cookie cutter and lacking anything that he'd consider to be unique, alluring. No tattoos, pricing, scarring. Nothing that set them apart from the rest he supposed.

With less reservation then he probably should have had, Steve popped the tape out and without a thought pushed to look back in his and Eddie's tape collection. Behind the mix of horror, action and rom-coms, Steve found Eddie's not so secret, secret stash of porn tapes.

Was this over stepping some boundary ... maybe… but Eddie was a gay man, supposedly one with taste so it couldn't hurt to look. Out of the handful of tapes, they were surprisingly similar to the one Steve just ejected. Tanned, muscular, hairy men, some in gym shorts or cropped sports jerseys, but there was one, unmarked black case and a sticky tab on the tape that read "N⁰. 1" . It was weird but weird had to mean something other than cookie cutter right?

So Steve popped the tape in.

Sitting on the floor in front of the TV, Steve watched as the static turned to a dark, poorly lit bedroom, the only light being that of a lamp covered with a hanky. The low droll of metal music played in the background, audible enough to drown out the steps of the man walking into the frame. He was hardly visible, the dark glow of the room set a beautiful cast of shadows over his toned back and mess of long dark curls.

Already Steve was intrigued, this tape had a set of mystery, darkness and need. He felt his heart hammer in his chest sending the blood rushing south and he hadn't even seen anything other than this man's backside. But what he had seen was breathtaking.

Yeah this would do.

Before he missed anything too important Steve checked the clock, he still had over an hour until Eddie got home. With more haste than necessary, he ran to his bedroom, retrieving a box of tissues and a bottle of lube. By the time he settled back on the floor in front of the TV, the man on the screen was laying on a bed, leaning back on his elbow as his one hand lazily stroked his generous length. Steve wished he could see the guy's face, wanted to watch his eyes and the twist of his lips as he let subtle gasps escape into the air, but the man's identity was hidden in the shadows. His lower abdomen to toes only visible in the frame.

Fucking good enough though.

Soon enough Steve mirrored the man's position, leaning back on an elbow, sweatpants wrangled just low enough to expose himself, heavily lubed hand matching the steady pace in front of him. Breathy gasps began to climb their way up his chest while he continued to take in the body before him. A slender toned frame and subtle muscles flexing with every twist of a wrist.

'Fuckin’… Christ …' followed by louder gasps and shaky breaths, the voice on the screen groaned, its owner's pace quickening once again, the bed beginning to gently shake under his haste.

The man's voice alone nearly sent Steve over the edge, for some reason it sounded so familiar but good god did it do something to him. "Oh fuck," Steve gasped, digging his nails into the carpet below him, toes curling and ecstacy boiling in his veins. He was so close. Moving quickly Steve pulled his shirt up his chest, exposing a blank canvas ready to be painted. Biting his lip, until nearly painful, he moaned along with the man on the screen, hardly being able to keep his eyes open from pleasure alone.

He wanted to watch the other man come goddammit, he wasn't going to finish until he did. Thankfully he didn't need to wait much longer, staggered movements and a deep rattling groan later Steve joined the man in toppling over the edge. The sound alone made his bones ache for more.

Chest and stomach painted white, air hot and breaths staggered, Steve took a minute to collect himself. Listening to the man on the screen pant, barely catching the smattering across his lower abdomen, Steve wanted to crawl through the TV screen and lick the dark haired beauty clean. Though apparently he was capable of that himself, moving into the light enough to expose a dim shadow of his lower face the man lifted his hand to his mouth, licking off any and all traces of his own release with a deep groan of satisfaction.

"Holy fuck," Steve gasped, out of breath and taking more effort than he deemed typically necessary to lean forward and stop the tape to rewind it. As the VHS spun back to its beginning, Steve took his time lazily cleaning his chest and stomach, come getting stuck in his copious amounts of body hair as he went. He'd have to shower before he went to class for sure.

With a groan and shaky knees Steve got off the floor, tucking himself back into his sweats when he remembered he'd promised Eddie lunch. "Fuckin' Munson," he huffed to himself, knowing for a fact if he didn’t feed Eddie the man would forget to himself. Making his way to the bathroom to wash his hands and start a shower, Steve soon found his way back to the kitchen, popping the frozen lasagna into the oven and heading back into the living room to clean up the disaster he left behind.

Shoving the tapes back in their designated spots, porn in the back, rom-coms in the front, it eventually looked as if Steve was never there. Minus the image burned into his brain of his dick in hand and another man's body on TV.

Carrying on like normal, almost an hour later Steve found himself in the shower thinking of the man again. Long dark hair, lean and toned figure, a raspy groan that'll forever be ringing in his ears and how badly he'd wished he could have seen his face and feel his skin beneath his fingertips. Maybe the guy had more tapes. Oof, imagine that. Would it be weird to ask Eddie if he had any more of this guy?

Probably.

After painting the walls of the shower white and gasping so aggressively his throat was sore, Steve wrapped a towel around his waist, the fabric irritating his overly spent cock and padded back into the main living area.

Perched on a bar stool at the kitchen island he couldn't help but chuckle to himself knowing he'd have to give Robin an update on his research findings. That'd make for an interesting conversation. But before he could even begin to dwell on the topic the buzzer to the oven sounded signalling the Lasagna was ready.

Hair damp and still only in a towel, Steve made his way to the stove where he pulled on a pair of oven mitts and opened the oven door to feel the rush of heat wash over him. Typically soothing, the warmth was a bit much after his recent activities so with a huff of lingering exhaustion Steve removed the lasagna. And because his mind was too preoccupied with 'Holy Shit, I'm 100% Bi-Sexual & Jesus I just watched Eddie's porn,' he didn't quite hear the door to the apartment open but he sure heard as Eddie's loud, sing songy voice bellowed, "Honey, I'm-"

Though he heard it, it scared the shit out of him too, causing him to jump and brush the metal pan against his gut. Searing his skin he tossed the pan on the stove top with a yelp, "Ah! FUCK!"

The motion of the jump in pain also caused his towel to hit the floor.

"Steve you alright?" Eddie called from the entryway where he was probably toeing off his shoes, voice bleeding concern before he rushed to the kitchen.

Buttass naked and cursing under his breath at the pain blooming on his stomach, Steve tried to gather his bearings before Eddie entered the room, "Don't come in here, give me a sec."

But of course it was too late, Steve was bent over grabbing his towel, ass facing out of the kitchen, pointing directly to Eddie who was rounding the corner and stifled a rather obvious giggle at the sight before him.

"Fuck man," Steve huffed in embarrassment, standing upright wrapping his towel securely around his waist, wincing when the fabric brushed his fresh burn.

Cheeks growing redder by the second, it took Eddie a moment to meet Steve's eye but when he did, he couldn't help but appear concerned, "You okay there, Big Boy?"

Steve deadpanned, moving to the sink to get a cool cloth to soothe his burn, "Please do not call me Big Boy after you just saw me naked"

"All I saw was your ass! Nothing else, I swear!"

"Uh-Huh," Steve laughed to himself, wincing once again as the miniscule movement of his skin pulled at his new brand.

The room silent for all of two seconds, Eddie took the time to glance over Steve's nearly nude form while he searched for the source of the younger's outcry, only noticing the blooming red mark above Steve's towel as the man moved to drench a rag in the running water.

"Oh, you burnt yourself," Eddie's voice was concerned, caring, almost soothing in itself. With careful steps he approached Steve who was now leaning against the sink, cool cloth pressed to his scorched skin. Eddie was close, his breath would have ghosted Steve's skin if he stepped any closer, the atmosphere suddenly felt so intimate, the wooden floorboards creaking under his feet with every motion. Eddie's hand hovered mere inches from Steve's that held the cloth, "Let me take a look?" He asked, looking up at Steve through thick eye lashes.

Butterflies swarming in his gut, Steve nodded, eyes never once leaving Eddie's face while he pulled the cool cloth back to reveal his burn. He watched as Eddie's lips turned down and he quietly spoke, "Oh Stevie," the man's eyes remained on the brand as he gently squeezed Steve's wrist and continued, "wait right here, I think I have some burn cream in my room."

What Eddie had burn cream for, Steve didn't entirely know, but he didn't question it, the man was a walking hazard so he supposed it made sense to have precautionary supplies. Before he could ponder the thought much longer Eddie had returned with a small tube in hand.

He was back in Steve's space once again, but now his eyes were focused on Steve's, watery from the pain and pupils still blown wide from his post release bliss. Eddie pursed his lips into a flat line, waving the tube of burn cream between them before he quietly spoke, a nervous tinge to his voice and a blush to his cheeks, "You, uh, you want to do this or you want me to?"

Really Steve should have thought about it more, he was still only wrapped in a towel, dick and balls, a gentle breeze from being revealed or truthfully jolted back to life in what would be an even more embarrassing turn of events, but he didn't think about it much more than that. The want to have Eddie take care of him, forcing the word from his lips before he could second guess himself.

"You," he quietly breathed, knowing his cheeks probably matched the colour of the burn on his tummy.

Eddie swallowed, eyes searching Steve's, working his jaw for a beat before he confirmed, "Yeah?"

Steve nodded, the feeling of butterflies in his gut feeling comparable to a tornado.

"Okay," Eddie gave a single tight nod, eyes focusing on the sink while he waved Steve off to the side, "scooch over then Sugar, I need to wash my hands first."

The nicknames weren't anything new, but they still made the blood in Steve's cheeks churn, he loved them, probably more than he should honestly. But he listened, stepping off to the side while Eddie scrubbed his hands clean, tube of burn cream pinched between his front teeth.

And then he turned towards Steve, cheeks red while he gave him a nervous smile and softly spoken, "Let me know if it hurts too much, ‘kay?"

Steve nodded and tried his damndest to suppress the shiver that racked his body as Eddie stepped back into his space, placing one hand on his bare hip, cool rings a welcome contrast to his flushing skin while he steadied Steve. With soft, gentle movements, Eddie brushed the cream over Steve's burn, if it didn't hurt so much he'd probably be suppressing a moan as opposed to a wince.

Eddie bent closer to the abrasion, checking it over, dull breath barely ghosting over Steve's abs, "You're staying home today okay? I want to keep an eye on that."

And if Eddie was being selfish, wanting to take care of Steve for a day, that was his own secret to keep.

Standing up, Eddie turned to wash his hands in the sink, looking over his shoulder to talk to Steve, "Go put on some sweats, no shirt, we don't want fabric clinging to that and I'll pop in a movie for us."

Steve knew there was no point in arguing but if he remembered right, Eddie had shit to do and he voiced that concern, to which the metalhead responded, "Don't worry your pretty little head. I got my stuff mailed, everything else can wait. Now go get changed, I'll meet you back in the living room."

So that's what Steve did, changed into a pair of sweats he wasn't entirely sure were his or Eddie's, passed on a shirt and settled onto the couch to wait for his roommate. A few minutes later the older man returned in comfy clothes himself, a beer in each pocket, weighing his sweat pants down to a dangerous depth, dark hair peeking out from between the cropped band shirt and hemline of Eddie pants. He deposited two plates and beer onto the coffee table then proceeded to move towards the TV, evidently plopping down where Steve jacked off an hour ago. He picked through the movies until he settled on some Rom-Com.

He turned back to Steve with a smile, "I know, not quite my jam, but you're injured so I guess I'll concede."

Eddie joined Steve on the couch where they cracked a beer and watched the movie in silence until the lasagna had cooled enough to the point where they could actually eat, to which Steve groaned and teased Eddie about his odd choice of topping his own lasagna with Ranch, like a psychopath.

They continued to playfully banter back and forth for the remainder of the movie, Steve nudging Eddie with a socked foot anytime he said something dumb (read: something that made the butterflies in Steve's stomach worse.)

And that's how they spent their day, watching movies, teasing one another and eventually doing the dishes and laundry together. Several movies and a few loads of laundry in, they found themselves perched on the fire escape, night sky hanging above them, backs against the warm brick wall and asses aching from the metal grate beneath them. Shoulders and thighs pressed against one another they smoked in silence, taking in the sounds of the city around them.

"Today was nice," Steve softly spoke, shuffling to sleepily lean his head on Eddie's shoulder, wincing as his burn rubbed against the fabric of his sweatpants in the confined position.

Eddie stilled for a moment, breath hitching while Steve sunk deeper into his position. Eventually taking a shaky breath, he settled and replied, "Aside from burning yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah it was hey?" Eddie's hand found its way to Steve's hair where he gently carded through Steve's once famous locks, "Wish we could do this more often."

Leaning into the touch and ever so slowly melting from the sensation alone, Steve quietly asked, "Why don't we?"

Eddie shrugged, jostling all of the parts of Steve that rested against him until he came up with an answer, "Guess we're both just so busy."

"Well let's not be so busy." Steve yawned before drifting into a momentary slumber, nuzzling deeper into Eddie's shoulder as the city around them soon joined.

—

Later that night Eddie helped to wash Steve's burn and reapply the burn cream, adding a bandage to it for the night to shield it from the blankets that could potentially rub against it and cause irritation. With burning cheeks and a whirlwind of butterflies in their tummies both men found their ways to their own bedrooms, settling in for the evening, reminiscing the last several hours they'd spent with one another. They couldn't remember the last time they'd had a day like that, if they'd even had. But they both knew it was nice, something they could get used to, something they wanted more than just in a blue moon.

That night Steve dreamt of calloused hands brushing over his skin and the moans of a man he'd only heard on the TV.

While Eddie, the night owl, stayed up until the early hours of the morning, withering in his bed under the dark glow of a hanky covered lamp, hand clasped over his mouth to silence his sounds. Simultaneously completing his 'work' for the day and adding to his (and now Steve's) not so secret porn stash beneath the living room TV.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie #steddie fandom #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie smut #pre relationship #gay eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #steddie post vecna

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delopsia-archive · 1 year ago

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Robert "Bob" Floyd Masterlist

Ask Archive

Fics

Better ₊ ˚ ✧ It's cruel how easily you fit together. You have a sea of options out there, and yet only Bob Floyd's lips fit against yours so flawlessly. Only your backseater smells of suede and jasmine because he can't stay out of that Polo Blue cologne to save his life. The hand that curls around your cheek feels as if it belongs there. This is how things always should have been. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Cinnamon, Coffee & Vanilla ₊ ˚ ✧ You’d figured you would be able to smell him by now. Truly deduce whether or not he’s an alpha, beta, omega, or something in between the lines, but even as you breathe in, you can’t catch a damn thing. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Don't tell me your secrets ₊ ˚ ✧ "Are you expecting me to jump for joy after you don't contact me for eleven years?" It shoots out of your mouth before you can stop it, "roll out the red carpet and pray you don't turn around and ghost me for a second time?" AO3 ♡ Tumblr

If You'll Have Me ₊ ˚ ✧ If anyone were to walk in right now, you fear they might just faint from the sight of the Kingdom's beloved heir to the throne being dicked down within an inch of their life. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Honey ₊ ˚ ✧ “Rich, hot, and a virgin. What’s wrong with you?” Or, Bob’s coworkers jokingly summon you, a succubus, to take his virginity, but everyone gets a lot more than they bargained for. You included. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Ma'am ₊ ˚ ✧ You shouldn't be standing here and just...watching, but you can't help yourself. Who knew such a shy little thing could make such noises as these? AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Moonshine Rain ₊ ˚ ✧ What are you so upset about? Is it because of what happened on that lonely little night? The crippling silence that comes with being separated? Is it the overwhelming reality that your heart has chosen to long for a man that the Navy says you can't have? AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Paper Airplane ₊ ˚ ✧ Careful, you bend over the counter, resting your head in folded arms, "do your worst, Admiral." A switch flips, eyes darkening as his face hardens once more. Big hands take hold of your hips when he steps behind you, yanking you backward until your ass is pressed directly against him, "do my worst, huh?" AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Polaroid ₊ ˚ ✧ "I'm not jealous," sharp teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his hot breath tickling the skin there, "I'm being perfectly reasonable." Because being reasonable involves him bending you over Maverick's motorcycle. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Rocking Chair ₊ ˚ ✧ Just you, him, and this old rocking chair, like always. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Santa Dress ₊ ˚ ✧ "Who knew I was comin' home just to find you in the tiniest little dress I've ever seen." AO3 ♡ Tumblr

One More Time ₊ ˚ ✧ "Cum one more time for me; come on, I know you’ve got it in you." AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Wolfish ₊ ˚ ✧ You can't seem to keep your hands off each other today. AO3 ♡ Tumblr

You Problem ₊ ˚ ✧ The breaths gracing your ear are becoming heavier, the only indication of how you're affecting him, "Sweetie..." daring teeth bite at the shell, "you're gettin' me, ah, all riled up for nothin'." Not missing a beat, you lean your head forward, freeing yourself of those devilish nibbles, "that sounds like a you problem." AO3 ♡ Tumblr

Edits

₊ ˚ ✧ Every time Robert “Bob” Floyd is on screen

₊ ˚ ✧ The Mockingbird & The Crow

Moodboards

₊ ˚ ✧ Forbidden things have a secret charm

₊ ˚ ✧ Lewis Pullman as Colors of the Rainbow: Green

₊ ˚ ✧ Lewis Pullman as Colors of the Rainbow: Yellow

Warmups

₊ ˚ ✧ Hot Air Balloon

₊ ˚ ✧ How They Like To Cuddle

₊ ˚ ✧ How They Like To Kiss You

₊ ˚ ✧ Something in the rain

₊ ˚ ✧ The Little Things They Do When Dating You

₊ ˚ ✧ What it feels like to date Bob Floyd, but it's described using specific experiences.

₊ ˚ ✧ Winding Bob up in public

#delgato's masterlist #Updated 12/21/24

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 7 days ago

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2024 AO3 Wrapped - For Writers

Taking a page out of @frownyalfred's bag and am compiling the stats that are most interesting to me (from various wraps I've seen) rather than using any one set template. I'm also going to stick to published stats because I've written chapters for Like the Cryptkeeper that have not published yet, in addition to a few WIPs I've gotten stuck in.

Works Published: ~12

Includes two works started in an earlier year but finished this year and one work started this year but not yet finished. Read all twelve-ish here.

Chapters Published: 18

The majority of my fics were single-chapter one-shots. Not all, though.

Words Published: 45,970

Hits: 29,829*

Comments: 649*

Kudos: 4,817*

Bookmarks: 1,230*

These last four stats I find interesting from a statistical perspective but also maddening, and I'm hoping one of you out there knows a trick. Because these three numbers are wrong.

Firstly, they include all hits/comments/kudos for Hey, Sister, but I wrote and posted half of that in 2022, so some of these are 2022 stats. Same goes for Nowhere Safer, which first posted near the end of 2023 but concluded in 2024! Augh.

And secondly, if I filter my stats down to 2024, it only shows me hits, comments, and kudos given to fics from 2024. My 2024 fics are little babies. Not only are they new and therefore less well-known, but they're also significantly shorter than, for example, The Return and Nature & Nurture.

AO3 is an archive. My older fics are FAR more popular than my shiny new fics! I WANT MY ACCURATE STATS. /endrant

Top Relationship: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd (3)

Shocking. Genuinely stunning. This wholly comes down to me getting really interested in some of the relational mechanics between Dick and Jason and churning out a bunch of fics for Whumptober about exactly that. ("A bunch," I say. Three. I mean three.)

Top Tag: Grief/Mourning (4)

If I exclude the Whumptober tag, grief/mourning was my #1. I'm not sure why.

Fic With Highest Stats:

Because I don't know how to properly segment Hey, Sister or Nowhere Safer, I'm going to present stats with and without that those involved. Stuff with multiple BatKids likely would have done really well even without the multi-year spread, but I can't prove it.

Hits: Hey, Sister (or Nowhere Safer or Like the Cryptkeeper)

Kudos: Hey, Sister (or Nowhere Safer or Open Line)

Comments: Like the Cryptkeeper

Bookmarks: Nowhere Safer (or Open Line)

Fic I'm Proudest Of:

I'm always proud of all of my fics but I am particularly proud of:

Like the Cryptkeeper because it's been a bit since I've done a fic longer than two chapters (we'll see how proud I am if I stall on my current chapter for much longer)

The morning and what came after because it was deeply angsty and made me cry

Searchlight Burning because @audreycritter said it was one of the best "Bruce returns to Gotham pre-Batman" fics she's ever read and I want to die with that on my tombstone

Fic I Wish Received More Attention: Searchlight Burning

Y'all are allergic to Alfred fics and it's such a pity.

WIPs Still Sitting In Drafts: 3.5

lol. Okay so of actual "things I actually attempted or am attempting to write" drafts, as opposed to just ideas, I am sitting on:

The rest of Like the Cryptkeeper

A mega-angsty little thing I've been poking at for a couple years

A Dick & Jason fic I started for Whumptober and got stuck on

An Alfred POV for The Rain Again that I started, had to back out of when it wasn't right, and if I ever use again will need to be for an entirely new scenario—hence the .5

Given Or Received Gifts: 3 received, 0 given

More indicative of my pre-Whumptober writing slump than anything else

Learn Anything New?

It was such a relief to finally feel like I got a little bit more of a handle on Dick. I didn't expect that this year.

I noticed while drafting Cryptkeeper that Jason was being VERY sweary in a way I don't usually write that felt appropriate and inappropriate for the setting at the same time. I finally realized my own internal distinction that he tends to stick to lesser swears when communicating verbally, while his own internal monologue will have a lot more f-bombs.

I love the "Batkids trust Bruce enough to crawl into his bed after a nightmare" but it's a trope that only ever squared with me in an uncomplicated way for Dick. I didn't see Jason falling into it without hesitation even as a younger kid and I really couldn't see Tim doing it, except for maybe much, much, MUCH later. I liked being able to solidify the uncomfortable middle ground for myself in Nowhere Safer.

It's not new knowledge that getting Jason and Bruce to talk honestly to each other is a difficult thing, but MAN has Cryptkeeper really driven it home. Yikes.

2025 Aspirations Or Goals:

Finish Like the Cryptkeeper.

Beef up some of my other pairings. I do want to keep writing my most delicious faves, but I'd like to explore some different combinations.

Tied to that, I'd like to build out my own understanding of some other characters within the Wayne universe. Steph and Duke remain a cipher to me, but so does Kon and Jon and Lois. I don't know that I would write more about them, but understanding them is at least more in that direction.

Tied to that, I'd like to find more new-to-me authors to read. My fic reading has fallen off a cliff for various reasons, but it's always a thrill to find talented writers who tackle the Fam in a cogent and engaging way.

Not necessarily specific to 2025, but I've never officially collaborated on a fic with anyone. That might be fun.

#ao3 wrapped #fanfic writer problems #ao3 #fanfic stats

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ao3feed-superbat · 1 year ago

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It's not mathematically possible

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/f9P127O by andromarche Kal'dur said, "Who exactly is a Wayne?" Kara said, "This stupidly rich celebrity family out of Gotham. Bruce Wayne is infamous for adopting a lot of kids. But we can't all be dating a Wayne, right?" "It's not mathematically possible," Kon began. "Is it?" The silence in the room was deafening. Roy seemed to be counting his fingers. Or In the aftermath of a mission that brought together the Titans and the League, Arsenal makes an off-hand comment about being invited to the Wayne Holiday Gala by his boyfriend, and Artemis knows that he damn well doesn't have the socio-economic status to pull that off, especially because her and Wally have both been personally invited to the same Gala by their boyfriend. It doesn't take long for Jon, Kon, Kara, Steph and Clark to join in. They can't all possibly be dating a Wayne, right? (Tagged teen for swearing, light descriptions of injury, and kissing) Words: 2050, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Andromarche's Batfam Meets JL fics Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Batfamily Members, Members of the Team (Young Justice), Justice League (DCU), Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Wally West, Artemis Crock, Jason Todd, Roy Harper, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jonathan Kent, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon, Kara Zor-El Relationships: Batfamily Members & Justice League, Batfamily Members & Members of the Team (Young Justice), Justice League & Members of the Team (Young Justice), Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Artemis Crock/Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon/Kara Zor-El, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Batfamily meets the Justice League, Batfamily Meets Members of the Team (Young Justice), kind of, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Wally West is Flamebird, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Roy Harper is Arsenal, Cassandra Cain is Black Bat, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Damian Wayne is Robin, Jonathan Samuel Kent is Superboy, Kon-El | Conner Kent is Superboy, they're both superboy, they're both super boys, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Kara Zor-El is Supergirl, Duke Thomas is Signal, Duke Thomas is a Batfamily Member, Batfamily Shenanigans (DCU), Isolated Batfamily (DCU), again only kind of, no one knows they're related and that's about it, Titans and Young Justice are the Same Team, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Secret Relationship, they're not trying to keep it secret, it just hasn't been said yet and its very new and their family is scary, no beta we die like jason todd read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/f9P127O

#ao3feed #superbat #world's finest #Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 7 months ago

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Just go along.

by Sandra_Cisne Bruce give up on being the single sex toy friend, so he come up with a brilliant plan to gaslight, gatekeep and girl boss his way into Diana and Clark's relationship, it's risky, overcomplicated and we don't talk about the ethics of it. They won't even notice when he snuck up until it's too late. The only problem with his perfect plan: Diana and Clark had been in a relationship with Bruce for the past six months (?) Words: 6446, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Batfamily Members (DCU), Justice League (DCU), Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Diana (Wonder Woman), Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne's Pets, Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne, Justice League & Bruce Wayne, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Clark Kent Additional Tags: Past Relationship(s), Past Abuse, Past Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Past Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Past Harvey Dent/Bruce Wayne, Crack, Past Minhkhoa Khan/Bruce Wayne, All of Bruce's previous relationships are toxic in some way, Consider this a warning if you really like any of them., Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, But results may vary..., Established Relationship, But Bruce hasn't realized it yet, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Relationships, DC stands for Disregard Canon, Crack Treated Seriously, If somehow this looks like canon, I apologize for that., Batkids are menaces, Batkids want Bruce to be happy, we don't spend so much time with the exes..., But the bat kids gonna bring it on A LOT., This whole fic is ridiculous, ¿What's my life?, T because Jason, No beta we died like everyone in the batfam, No brain like Bruce in this fic, Or in the Canon..., english isn't my first language, Please be nice, Also first time writing anything remotely creative on english, My First AO3 Post via https://ift.tt/9rvK21q

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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ollieofthebeholder · 1 day ago

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And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 32: While all things wax and nothing wanes

“You know what confuses me?”

“Quantum physics? Non-euclidean geometry? Why the Tory party is still in existence, never mind in power?” Tim put the cap back on the eyeliner and turned to Gerry. “How’d I do? Is it even?”

“Looks good to me. Also, you’re a dick,” Gerry grumbled. “I’m being serious.”

One corner of Tim’s mouth turned up. “Lay it on me. What’s confusing you that’s relevant to our immediate lives?”

“Well, the Tory thing might qualify for that, actually, but…” Gerry propped his hip against the sink. “How the hell did Jane Prentiss get into the tunnels without you noticing?”

Tim’s smile slipped. “I’ve been asking myself that for months.”

“No, that’s—not what I meant. I just meant…” Gerry flapped a hand helplessly. “Not you specifically. Just…general ‘you’. The worms could squeeze through the floorboards but Prentiss herself couldn’t. How did she get into the tunnels without going through the Archives? Did Jon let her in?”

“Not bloody likely. Even if he is a killer, he wouldn’t have wanted to risk the Corruption getting a foothold in the Archives, it was as much a danger to him as to the rest of us.” Tim shrugged. “She probably went in another entrance.”

“There are other entrances?” Gerry asked, surprised.

“Gerry. Millbank Prison covered most of what’s now Chelsea, and the tunnels—some of which look like they were eroded by curls of the Thames—go at least that far if not further. Statistically, the likelihood that there aren’t other entrances is virtually nil.” Tim sighed. “I don’t know how Prentiss found another entrance, let alone how to get to the Archives afterwards, but that’s almost certainly what happened.”

Gerry mulled that over. “You think Jon knows?”

“No. He wouldn’t use the one in the Archives if he did. Too much risk of being detected.” Tim gave Gerry a quick kiss. “Hey, how do you feel about sushi for dinner? I can pick up some on the way home, and then we can talk a little bit more about what we’re doing about those tunnels tonight.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Gerry said softly.

He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him that there were other way into the tunnels, but Tim was right; it didn’t make sense for there not to be. And he had a point about Jon not having found them, too. They hadn’t been able to get all the way to the end of Jon’s arrows, although they’d found one pointing down a flight of steps that didn’t look right that he knew Tim wanted to investigate further, but if there was another way out he’d have marked it…somehow. It stood to reason he hadn’t found one yet. That didn’t mean he was okay with the way Tim had come out with that information. It wasn’t that he thought Gerry was stupid—far from it—and he’d always had a talent for picking up on hints and piecing things together. But sometimes…just sometimes, he said these sorts of things in a way that implied he thought it was incredibly obvious, and Gerry genuinely wasn’t sure at this point if it was because he assumed Gerry had already pieced it together too, because he thought it was common knowledge, or because he was trying to keep Gerry from asking how do you know that so he wouldn’t have to give an answer neither of them would like.

He kept mulling that over as he started downstairs for the shop, as well as the possibility of the other entrances. The last of the books had been packed up and put into storage, and the walls were hung with examples of his artwork. He was currently working on a commission to hang in a drawing room, and by rights he ought to spend the day working on that, or possibly on a new sign for the front of the building to make it clear they no longer sold rare books, but…

But it would make their lives a lot easier if they found another way in. The sooner, the better.

After spending most of the morning halfheartedly painting while debating with himself, he went back upstairs to fetch Rowlf before heading out.

He didn’t exactly blend in around Chelsea ordinarily, but he had a few things of his father’s—at least he assumed they’d been his father’s—that would help with that. It was about thirty years out of date, but at least it fit him, and it looked pretty decent. A bit of extra makeup covered those tattoos not hidden by clothing, and he and Rowlf were on their way. Gerry figured he would start looking relatively close to the Institute—under the assumption that Prentiss wouldn’t have found the Archives so quickly otherwise—and go from there. It had to be admitted that he had no earthly idea what the other entrances would look like. Still, he reckoned he could at least make the effort.

It was close to the lunch hour when he made it to Chelsea, which he deduced from the number of people milling about. Still, that was all to the good, it meant he was more likely to escape notice, dog notwithstanding. He let Rowlf sniff about, getting the canine news bulletins, while he peered at rocks, bushes, and random structures, wondering if one of them might be what he was looking for.

He noticed a figure coming out of the side door to the Institute, the one that led directly to the Archives, and for a moment he wondered if it was Tim. Instead, it was a petite, curvy woman with black curly hair that he guessed to be Sasha James. Rowlf, always on the outlook for a potential new friend, went on the alert, tail waving excitedly, but he knew better than to pull.

As most people did, she stopped to address him. “Oh, what a cutie! Can I pet him?”

“Sure.” Gerry let a little bit of German into his voice, just to be sure he wouldn’t be recognized.

The woman bent down and rubbed both of Rowlf’s ears vigorously. From the way his tail wagged harder, he must have liked that. “Who’s a good boy? You are! You are! Oh, you’re such a soft baby. What’s your name, sweet thing?”

Gerry could have given any part of Rowlf’s name without giving away that it was Tim’s dog, even though Sasha had met him once before and might have known his full name, but what popped out of his mouth was, “Rowsby Woof.”

“What a silly name for such a majestic beast.” The woman gave his ears one last rub, straightened, and smiled. “Thanks for letting me pet him. I love dogs…have a good day.”

“You, too.” Gerry clucked his tongue at Rowlf, who followed obediently as they moved off in opposite directions.

Gerry had just decided to widen his search a little bit when he saw another figure peering around the corner in the direction the presumed Sasha had gone. He’d only seen this figure once before, and that in deep shadow, but it wasn’t hard to suss out who he was. If nothing else, the worm scars, significantly worse than Tim’s, gave it away.

Jonathan Sims, the Archivist of the Magnus Institute, was watching his assistant with open suspicion—probably because he didn’t think he was being observed. His posture—flattened against the wall, chin craning to just hook over the corner, tense twist to his shoulders—spoke of an attempt to be stealthy. That he was bundled into an oversized trench coat, clinging to the wall in a way that immediately drew attention to the fact that he wasn’t meant to be there, and completely exposed on three sides spoke to a lack of practice at it. Gerry shook his head in despair and turned back to Rowlf. He was definitely going to get caught following her if he kept that up.

Two things occurred to Gerry simultaneously. The first was that if Sasha caught Jon following her, she was going to be furious. The second was that Jon was not paying enough attention to his surroundings to know if anyone other than Sasha noticed him. Word had gotten around that Gertrude Robinson’s body had been found—the Archivist is dead, long live the Archivist—and that probably meant that most servitors of the Fourteen knew there’d been an attack on the Archives, and that it sure as hell hadn’t been the new Archivist that had stopped it. He was weak, he was vulnerable, and all it would take was one strike to take him off the playing field, so to speak. Depending on how close the Unknowing was—he and Tim really had to get back into investigating that—the Stranger might try to take down the Archivist as a preventative measure. And while he wasn’t actually much less convinced than Tim that Jon had been the one to take Gertrude out, that didn’t mean he wanted anyone or anything else to take him down. In the first place, Tim, however reluctantly, was still somewhat protective of him, and if anything happened to him on his watch, he’d never get over it. Something—they weren’t sure who—had already tried once, and might very well have succeeded, had it not been for Tim’s timely arrival and intervention.

In the second place, if anyone was going to kill the little bastard, it deserved to be Tim.

Gerry turned around and, sure enough, Jon was heading in the same direction Sasha had gone. He heaved a sigh and looked down at Rowlf. “You up for an adventure, boy?”

Rowlf perked his ears up and wagged his tail ferociously. While Gerry knew he’d have got the exact same reaction if he’d asked if he wanted to have his balls reattached and taken off again—he did that every single time one of his dads talked to him—he decided to take it as assent and set off down the street.

Unlike Jon, Gerry had a lot of practice at being stealthy, and also with not being noticed in general. Creeping about, ducking behind signposts and shrubbery and around corners whenever you thought you’d been spotted, and moving in short, quick bursts were all great ways to get yourself spotted; it made you out of place, unusual, something to draw the eye. This was especially true if you were wearing a trench coat, for God’s sake, and especially if you were doing so on one of the warmest days of the month, when normal people were in their shirtsleeves. The streets they were walking down weren’t very populated, either, which meant he stuck out like a sore thumb. A very, very paranoid sore thumb.

Gerry knew better. Confidence, that was the key. Look like you belonged somewhere and nine times out of ten people would assume you did. His piercings, metal t-shirts, and dyed hair were akin to protective coloration—it warned people not to mess with him, but it did make him obvious. Look at me—now walk away. Having grown up being shoved into the background, he wore that with pride, usually; he wanted to stand out in a crowd, wanted to be noticed, wanted to take up space. But there were times he did want to blend in with the crowd and become a nonentity. Going to church with Tim and his grandfather. Strolling through small towns where their status as “outsider” made it hard enough to get answers and it was more than their lives were worth to even let their fingers touch for the briefest of seconds. Stealth missions.

Having Rowlf did help with following. Not because the dog was a skilled tracker, he absolutely wasn’t by nature and they hadn’t trained him otherwise, but because he stopped periodically to sniff a lamp post or low stone wall, giving Gerry the chance to stop in a perfectly normal and natural way. He did worry about how long this was going to take but, he rationalized, it couldn’t be that far if Sasha (and by extension Jon) were planning to walk it. Those sandals Sasha was wearing looked like the kind that were worse on the feet over long distances than actually going barefoot. And Rowlf’s stamina was pretty good—he was young, and of course he was a spaniel, so he would probably run the length and breadth of England without stopping if Gerry let him—so walking at a reasonable pace wouldn’t be too bad.

Keeping Sasha in sight wasn’t difficult—she obviously hadn’t figured out she was being followed, so she just kept moving in a straightforward manner—but Jon was going to be a problem. His jerky, erratic progress meant that if Gerry stopped every time he did, even he’d be able to figure out he was being stalked. Ordinarily he would have walked past him without looking in his direction, then moved aside and waited for him to pass again before resuming following, but since half the reason he was following was to make sure nothing attacked him, that wasn’t much of an option. He didn’t have eyes in the back of his head; the ones tattooed on his skin were more in the nature of protective charms. There was also the issue that Jon had met Rowlf before, and vice versa, which meant there was a chance of them recognizing each other. He could probably play it off by claiming to be Tim’s dog-walker—or, in a pinch, make up a fake name for himself and make sure Tim had never called him Gerry in front of Jon—but it wasn’t going to be optimal by any means.

Just as he thought it was no use and he’d have to try the ruse, Sasha turned into the entrance of the Tube station, which was…interesting. As far as Gerry knew, this was her lunch break; at the very least, he assumed Jon wouldn’t be following her if she was investigating a case and he knew it. Even though everything around the Institute was on the expensive side, there were plenty of places within easy walking distance that did a quick and inexpensive lunch. Gerry should know, he’d eaten at most of them with Tim over the past three years. If she was taking the Tube somewhere, she must be planning to take an unusually long lunch.

Jon hesitated, then strolled into the station with such obvious nonchalance he might as well have been humming his own theme music while doing it. Gerry rolled his eyes and looked down at Rowlf. “Come on, Brian, let’s go make sure Uncle Gadget doesn’t get taken by the Claw’s men.”

Rowlf lolled his tongue happily at Gerry, and they proceeded together into the station.

The Circle train was just pulling into the station, and somehow Gerry wasn’t surprised to see Sasha rush for it in a flurry of beads and gauzy cotton. Nor was he surprised when Jon turned up the collar of his trench coat, wrapped it more tightly around himself, and darted into the same car. He took his time and selected a car that had a seat by the window where he could watch to see when Jon and Sasha got off. They would be far less likely to notice him if he didn’t insist on sitting with them. It did mean leaving Jon relatively unprotected, but he took comfort in the fact that there was a limit to what anyone or anything could do to him without alerting the rest of the train…or at least those who knew what was what.

He almost missed Sasha getting off, and probably wouldn’t have noticed had he not seen Jon hurrying after her. He clucked to Rowlf and stepped off the train just before the doors closed, then emerged into the sunlight.

They were at Baker Street, an unusual choice for lunch, but Gerry was no longer certain that was what Sasha was up to. Rowlf, of course, was delighted by all the new things to see and smell—they’d not brought him up this way before—and it was more prone to tourists, even in late September, than Chelsea was, which meant far fewer people minding their own business and more wanting to pet the nice doggy. Rowlf ate the attention up, and Gerry answered questions as best as he could while keeping an eye on Sasha and Jon. The crowd wasn’t so thick he lost them, even as short as they were, but he wasn’t sure he could help Jon from this distance. Maybe the crowd of people taking pictures of themselves in front of the Sherlock Holmes Pub would provide a bit of a buffer, but not much. To his interest, Sasha kept going until she got to Marylebone—still crowded with tourists, at least enough that he and Rowlf weren’t conspicuous, except for all the can I pet your dog people.

He finally managed to extricate himself from a little girl whose mother urged her to go have lunch and let the nice doggy finish his walkies and made his way down the sidewalk just as Sasha finally turned into a building. Jon, of course, stopped dead a few feet away, standing by the lamp post at the curb like the main character of some 1940’s noir detective flick who had suddenly and unexpectedly found himself transported into a family musical comedy. Any minute now—yep, there it was, he reached into the trench coat and pulled out what Gerry could tell, even from a distance, was a pack of cigarettes.

Gerry kept walking down the sidewalk without seeming to look in Jon’s direction, not that he would have noticed if he had; as he lit the cigarette with shaking fingers, his eyes were firmly fixed on the building Sasha had gone into. Rowlf, thankfully, stopped to investigate a fire hydrant a couple of feet past it, which gave Gerry the opportunity to look back at what restaurant she’d gone into. He had to look twice, because it didn’t make any goddamned sense, but…no, Jon was still staring at it, too, that was the right one.

Sasha had come all the way out to Marylebone on her lunch hour…to go into Madame Tussauds?

That was…certainly a choice. Gerry was familiar with the museum, of course. He’d been once or twice, although he hadn’t particularly enjoyed the experience. The waxworks were works of art, of course, and remarkably well done; there’d been more than one incident of celebrities whose sculpture was due to go up coming out, to this one or to one of the branches elsewhere in the world, and posing as a waxwork without anyone seeming to realize this one wasn’t fake. Still, something about the glassy stares in the perfectly smooth, perfectly still faces gave him the willies. He’d never been able to last more than about twenty minutes or so before he started having a hard time convincing himself he wasn’t the only actual living person in the entire building. And the self-portrait Marie Tussaud had done of herself reminded him uncomfortably of his mother.

There was a café just across the road that had outdoor seating and advertised itself as pet friendly. Gerry stopped in and bought two sandwiches, a large lemonade, and an apple fritter, then settled outside. Rowlf snapped up his roast beef quickly and lay down at Gerry’s feet; Gerry ate at a slower, more decorous pace and gave the air of people-watching in general while actually keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Jon.

He made a mental note to talk to Tim about going out on Saturday to get him a mobile phone. He’d resisted, largely because as a young man he hadn’t wanted to give his mother an easy way to get hold of him and now he just didn’t want to always be in reach for any Tom, Dick, or Harry who might want his attention, but there were definitely circumstances when it would be useful to be able to contact Tim while they were both away from the flat. Now, for instance. It seemed like something he ought to alert him about, and now he’d have to wait until he got home…or, more likely, until Tim got home. Somehow, Gerry didn’t want to talk to Tim where anyone else might overhear them about this. It was just…bizarre.

Why a wax museum? He really didn’t think it was to do with a statement; quite apart from the fact that Jon wouldn’t have felt the need to stalk Sasha if he knew she was just doing research, if there was a real statement involving waxworks it would almost certainly be to do with the Stranger, and Tim was ruthless about doing the practical research on those. Unless Sasha had sniped it out from under him. If she wasn’t meant to be doing the research, that could explain why Jon was following her. On the other hand, her movements had seemed…purposeful. Deliberate. She hadn’t had to think about anything, she’d just done it, which spoke to this being a well-established route. Tim had mentioned Sasha was taking extra long lunches a couple times a week without saying so in advance.

Frith in a fog, Gerry thought, which was proof he’d been spending too much time with Tim lately.

Half an hour later, Gerry caught the shift in Jon’s posture and guessed what was happening a moment before Sasha emerged from the front of the museum, smiling faintly but otherwise showing no signs of what she’d been doing in there. Gerry tossed off the last of his lemonade, placed his dishes in the receptacle designated for that purpose, and clucked to Rowlf, who got to his feet eagerly.

There were no surprises this time; Jon and Sasha both went straight back to the Institute. Gerry tailed them both until they were safely inside, then stood for a moment in indecision. He had come out here for a purpose…but Rowlf was probably getting tired, or at least restless. He ought to take him for a run in the park and then go home.

The mutt in question suddenly pricked his ears up and started wagging his tail hard enough his back half nearly lifted off the ground. Gerry didn’t need to think too hard about why, and sure enough, a moment later, Tim emerged from the side door, looking tired. Gerry rested a hand on Rowlf’s head and gave a low whistle.

Tim’s head jerked up, and he came over, smiling but also uncertain. “Ger? Everything okay? What are you two doing out here? Hey, boy,” he added to Rowlf, who immediately tried to put his paws on Tim’s shoulders and clean out his nostrils despite being too short for either. Tim kindly knelt and scratched his neck.

“We’re about to pack it in, but if you want company we’ll walk you wherever you’re going,” Gerry offered.

“Thanks. I’m just grabbing lunch. Sasha and Jon were both gone forever today, and I made Martin take his whole lunch break, so I’m starving,” Tim grumbled. “I just hope whatever they were doing was worth it.”

Gerry waited until they’d gone a few steps away from the Institute before he said quietly, “Madame Tussauds.”

Tim blinked at him. “What?”

“Sasha went to Madame Tussauds. Jon followed her.” Gerry shrugged at Tim’s incredulous look. “I actually came out here to see if I could find one of the other entrances to the tunnels, and Sasha was just coming out when I did. Jon came out a few minutes later and did the world’s worst job of sneaking after her, so I followed to make sure Jon didn’t get killed.”

“Thank you. I think.” Tim rubbed a hand over his face. “And they went to Madame Tussauds? Why?”

“Dunno. I couldn’t follow her in with Rowlf, and Jon didn’t go in either, so I stayed outside to watch. She was in there for about half an hour, then came out and came back to the Institute with Jon following.”

“And Jon?”

“Stood outside smoking a cigarette.”

“Damn him, he said he didn’t smoke,” Tim muttered. “And that means he didn’t actually eat. I’ll have to try to get a sandwich in him or something. Martin might have better luck, I don’t think he trusts me enough to accept any food I give him in case I’m trying to poison him.”

Gerry suppressed a smile. “Aww, it almost sounds like you care.”

“I have to keep him safe.” Tim’s eyes took on a distant look. “That’s my job. To keep him safe and whole.” He stopped and shook his head, then said in a more normal tone, “Anyway, even if he did…you know…that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him destroy himself. That’s also my job. I’m not going to let him take my revenge from me because he’s too stupid and obsessed to look after himself properly.”

“That’s my Tim.” Gerry kissed Tim’s cheek. “Go get lunch and go look after your Archivist. I’m going to take the nice doggy home and try to get the underpainting finished before you get home with the sushi. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Tim stopped him, pulled him around, and kissed him properly. That he was doing so in public, and so close to the Institute, spoke to how worried he was about what he’d just learned. Then he bent down, gave Rowlf one last pat, and disappeared into the café they were stood in front of.

Gerry watched him go. Then he sighed and, with one last glance over his shoulder in the direction of the Institute, he headed back to the Tube station he’d already seen one too many times today.

Next time he came looking for tunnel entrances, he thought, he was leaving the damned dog at home.

#ollie writes fanfic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #and if thou wilt forget #gerard keay #tim stoker #not!sasha #jonathan sims #paranoia #anger #canon-typical Beholding content (especially early canon)#unreality #deception #stalking #implied/referenced homophobia

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