#you can bet Robin's yellow cape on it

[sister-cna-reader]

Anger Management DCxDP prompt

The first time Jason died, he didn't remember anything about the afterlife.

The second time however, he didn't realize he was close to death at all.

It was a bad fall, and he knew he hit his head. That hit was definitely why he saw a beautiful woman with hair bright as the sunrise and a melodic voice.

The concussion was making him think he was seeing Barbara, or maybe Kori, or any of the other red-headed people he knew.

Maybe it was Speedy in a wig....

"Oh Princess," he tried to drawl around the groan of pain. "Your humble knight is in need of aid."

Humor always helped distract from the burning aches and pains of the night life.

The Princess crouched low, dirtying her blue slacks to cradle his head ever-so-gently in his hands.

"Do you swear fealty to me in exchange for aid?" she asked, softly with a smile.

"Oh you betcha." Jason chuckled, melting at the sensation of her cool skin on his burning face. "I can always play your husband too if ya want."

The Princess giggled and Jason felt light and warm.

As his eyes slid closed he heard her say, "I'll keep your offer in mind, Sir Hood."

Then her lips kissed his temple.

He awoke in the Batcave, surrounded by Tim, Damian and even Bruce looking a bit paler then usual.

His head throbbed and he surrendered to the concussion protocol he knew he couldn't get out of.

A few months later, Jason prowled the edges of the Iceberg lounge as Red Hood, looking for his contact. Turning out of a hall, he nearly knocked down a tall woman with hair the color of sunrise.

Agitation and fear showed in her hands as she hooked her arm around his elbow, like he was escorting her to a black tie event.

"I'm sorry," her familiar voice demurred to an almost vampiric looking man in black. "My husband and I were just about to leave."

"Right Darling?"

She was the woman from his concussion. Made flesh and bone.

He promised her.

"Of course Princess." Red Hood agreed, pressing the knuckles of her hand to his half-mask in an imitation kiss.

[ectonurites]

Uhhhh very late miwip wednesday? it is thursday.

I've had this au—Will as Robin, El as Batgirl, Mike as Spoiler + a few more Hawkins characters as Bats but I'll leave the rest a mystery for now—rattling around in my brain for like a week, and I don't know if I'll ever actually write out the full longfic idea I have for it, but I'll at least post snippets and some doodles 👍

Text under the cut if the images are hard to read hehe:

—

“I know I did it to you when we first met,” the sound of boots hitting the rooftop echoes behind him, “But it’s really not proper vigilante etiquette to take off someone else’s mask.” 

Mike whips around to face him—Robin, The Boy Wonder. While he’s figured out who the new Batgirl is, he hasn’t got a clue about this guy. Unless maybe it’s not just El—maybe all the Bats are connected to the lab? Robin could be a number, too.

He stares at the other boy, lost in thought, not sure what to say. 

When it must fully register that his comment isn’t getting a response, Robin shrugs and retracts his grapple, clicking it into place on his utility belt as he steps closer out of the shadows.

Mike quickly puts his mask back on, just for something to do with his hands, something to interrupt his gawking at least for a second. When he looks again, there’s now a layer between them—flimsy blue fabric that makes it a little less clear that he’s still staring. 

But how could he not? The two of them have only really met twice—when Robin had tackled him not realizing The Spoiler is a new hero not a villain, and when Robin had come to his window the following night telling him to hang up his cape. So really, this is the first time Mike can stop and take him in without some sense of urgency bleeding into the situation. The first time he can just… look.

His mask is a deep green leather molded into a sort of beak, and despite leaving a decent amount of his face uncovered, it conceals what could really be identifying—his eyes, his nose, parts of his cheeks. His warm smile is visible though, and Mike can’t help that his eyes are drawn to it. It’s just the part of his face I can see, he tells himself, but maybe that’s not the only reason. 

Robin runs a gloved hand through his gelled-back hair, a chestnut brown that Mike bets would glisten in sunlight. But Robin isn’t someone you see during the day. Bats only come out at night in Hawkins, even ones who wear bright colors. Red, yellow, and green—he’s like a traffic light.

Only now while glancing up and down as he crosses the rooftop, does Mike really register how small a guy Robin is, noticeably shorter than Mike himself. But regardless, he still moves with confidence, it makes his presence seem larger somehow—wise beyond his years.

[npdclaraoswald]

[Image: the first image is two pictures edited together, the first of which shows Stephanie Brown, a young blonde woman, in the version of her Spoiler costume that has a black half mask covering the bottom of her face as well as a purple armored suit and a purple hood and cape. The other image is of Blaze the cat, a purple cat wearing a purple coat.

The next image shows three panels of Stephanie Brown in the version of her Spoiler costume that consists of a purple bodysuit, a purple hood and cape, and a black mask that covers her entire face. She kneels on a rooftop looking determined and says "I can do this. I can totally do this." She then looks upset and says "I can't do this."

The next image shows Stephanie in the same version of her Spoiler suit as the previous image and Tim Drake, a young brunette man, in his Robin costume that consists of a red leotard, yellow belt, green leggings, green sleeves, green gloves, and a black domino mask. They both hang upside down on a swingset.

The next image shows Stephanie in her same Spoiler costume.

The next issue shows Stephanie in her civilian work our clothes- a purple tank top, black shorts, a purple belt, and purple and black sneakers. She jumps up excitedly and says "Yes!"

The next image shows Stephanie standing in her same Spoiler suit with the hood down, looking smug. She is in the Clocktower base with Barbara Gordon, who wears a blue top and a maroon blanket over her legs as she sits in her wheelchair, and Cassandra Cain, in her black Batgirl suit with the black bat symbol outlined in yellow on her chest and her mouth and eyes stitched up who perches on a wooden beam. Stephanie says "I bet even motormouth here thinks it stinks." Cassandra says "Maybe you stink." Barbara says "That's enough." End.]

Look at this ICON!

[spiderwing-nightman]

Bruce can’t find his cape

The first person he goes to is Alfred because if anyone knows where something is when it’s gone missing, it’s Alfred. 

Bruce: Alfred, have you seen my cape, I haven’t seen it all day. Did you take it to wash?

Alfred: No Master Bruce, I haven’t seen it, possibly check with your children. They’re usually the ones responsible when something goes missing. 

Bruce: Hmmm, okay then.

The next person he goes to is Damian because after all, if something goes missing in the manor, it’s only logical to assume that the person who spends the most time there would have it. 

Bruce: Damian, have you seen my cape?

Damian (playing with Alfred and Ace): No father, why would I have seen your cape?

Bruce: Well it’s missing, and I need it before we go to out tonight.

Damian: I would ask Drake, I bet he took it. 

Bruce doesn’t know why Tim would have taken his cape, but he still hasn’t found the cape, so he decides why not. 

Bruce: Tim, have you seen my cape?

Tim (staring at the Bat Computer while sipping a cup of coffee): Have I seen your what?

Bruce: Cape, Tim, cape, the thing that you all used to hide it. 

Tim (still not looking at Bruce): Mmmmmm, did you check with the brat?

Bruce: Yes, he doesn’t have it

Tim: I have no idea, but I don’t have it. Check with Steph and Cass. 

Bruce figures Steph and Cass and Barbara are always up to something in that apartment of theirs, so he decides to check.

Bruce: Have you guys seen my cape?

Steph:   cape? How do you lose your cape? It’s huge, how does that happen?

Bruce: That’s what I’m trying to figure out? Have you guys seen it at all??

Cass: Check with Dick and Jason.

Bruce: Both of them together?? Why??

Babs: Well, you see they were giggling about something earlier, and you know that can never end well. 

Bruce decides that checking in with his two eldest sons couldn’t hurt, so he decides to track them down. He knew that Dick had been in the manor while Babs was with the Batgirls, so he should have known that Dick and Jason would get into some mischief. He found them in the   arguing about something. 

Bruce: Jason, Dick, are you in here?

Jason and Dick immediately hiding something behind their back: Yes

Bruce: And what are you doing here? 

Jason and Dick: Noooooothingg

Bruce: Uhuh, right, and why are you talking in unison.

Jason and Dick: We aren’t

Bruce: Suuuuuuree, and what are you hiding behind your back?

Jason and Dick: Nooooothing

Bruce has finally had it. After a few minutes of tussling and a lot of “no’s” and “Jason don’t let him see it”’s he finally finds his cape and that night there is a very frustrated, very yellow, Batman out on patrol

Batgirl (Cass), Spoiler, Robin, Red Robin, and Signal upon seeing Batman after watching Red Hood and Nightwing laugh their asses off for five minutes: W-

Batman: Not. A. Word. 

Oracle from the comms: You were right Nightwing, it was worth it. 

[kiragecko]

Decided to give y’all the Tim & Jason content from Teen Titans 29, AKA ‘The Attack at Titans Tower Issue’.

Like usual, I think you should feel free to play with canon as much as you like. I also think it can help to know the canon you’re playing with.

-

Jason’s offscreen, thinking: 'Cyborg and Beast Boy. They're usually inseparable from what I remember. But days like this ... everyone is breaking apart. I never got to work with them when I was on the Titans.' (Electrocutes both of them and leaves their unconscious bodies where they fell.) 'So this doesn't really bother me so much.'

'Raven on the other hand ... I kind of feel sorry for her. Even if she used to lecture me. Tell me to watch my anger. She said it made me prone to reckless and self-destructive behavior. She said it could get me killed. She was right.

(He releases a tiny canister of some sort of gas by Raven's sleeping head.) 'I make sure she sleeps through the next six hours. And I hope, for once, she has a good dream or two.

'Sunday night at the Tower. Speedy, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl have already left. I've waited for the right time for this. The perfect time ... to meet Tim Drake.'

Tim is talking on a cell-phone. We can see the Red Hood reflected on the window Tim's looking out of: "I wish there was something I could do, Bruce. I don't really know the Martian Manhunter well, but if he's missing ... Look, it's okay. I'll ask Cyborg for a ride home. Good Luck." (He puts his phone into his duffel bag.)

Jason, from behind Tim: "Hey, Tim.

“I was here first."

-

Tim has spun around, now: "You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham. The easy way."

Jason: "Easy? What do YOU know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to private school, right? You slept in a bed.

"I slept on the streets. I lived in the alleyways in Gotham." (He takes off hood.) "Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in." (Rips open shirt to show Robin outfit. Continues stripping to show full costume with ugly yellow tights.) "I trained as hard as I could. Whatever he asked ... at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't TOUGH enough to be Robin. But today, they say you are.

"Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't." (Jason attacks with fists, and they fall down what might be a stairwell? Tim throws some smoke grenades. Jason blocks hits from Tim's bo staff with his forearms.)

Jason: "You were this KID, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the Dark Knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind the mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure - that you forgot who you were really dealing with.

(Tim flips away. Jason follows with a matching flip.)

"I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim ... if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was trailing him for WEEKS. He'd KNOW about it.

"You CAN'T be THAT good." (Jason swings a punch and misses.)

Tim: "I am." (Tim punches Jason in the jaw.)

Jason: "He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you that he said to me, didn't he? (Tim gets kicked into a large planter, then deflects a batarang with his cape.)

That you had the talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in his war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder. (Jason grabs Tim's staff out of his hands and hits him in the face with it. He stands over a curled up Tim.)

"Now ... let me show you what the Joker did to me. And let's find out how tough you REALLY are."

-

(Tim gets knocked through a door. One eye is swelled shut, and blood is dripping down his face. He moans.)

(Jason is staggering, slightly. One leg is bloody and he's leaning on it weird. But Tim still hasn't managed to stand up again.)

Jason: "Look at this. Statues of the fallen Titans. Aguagirl. Hawk. Dove. You even have KOLE for God's sake.

"But where's MY statue?" (He breaks Donna's statue with Tim's bo staff.) "I was a Titan too!"

Tim: "What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You ... want to take it away from me?"

Jason: "Why in the HELL would I EVER want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me."

Tim: "Are you ~kaff~ completely insane? No one could ever forget you. I've spent my career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to CONVINCE Batman to let me TRY this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you.

"You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But ME?

"No freakin' way." (Steals staff back and whacks Jason in the face.)

Jason: "That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize, the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake.

"It didn't surprise anyone when I died. When I FAILED.

"I failed - but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you REALLY, Tim?"

Tim (In a half-conscious whisper): "Yes."

(Jason looks at Tim, rips the 'R' off his chest, and then we hear a loud ~krak~ as he punches him.)

-

(Tim later wakes up to the Titans and says he blacked out, and that it was Jason. He’s able to stand. Raven is looking at the wall, which has ‘Jason Todd was Here’ written on it in blood.)

-

Jason, thinking while wandering Gotham: 'I will admit. He is good. And he has friends. Real friends. I wonder ... if I had friends like those ... if I had been a Titan since the beginning ... would my life have turned out differently? Would I have been a better Robin?

'Would I have been a better person?'

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 1 (6-13): Truth serum | Damian Wayne Protection Squad™ | Best friends to lovers

Note: Rushed. I'm sure it's still the 13th somewhere.

Warnings: kidnapping, nonconsensual drugging, needles.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick wakes to the taste of blood on his tongue.

Thankfully, after slowly moving his tongue around, it's just because he bit the inside of his cheek sometime between when he was knocked out and when he woke up. His head pounds like a war-drum with his heart as he tries to get ahold of his situation. Without opening his eyes, he assess his arms are restrained behind his back and he's sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair. His legs are also tied to the chair, keeping him from running.

The suit he wears feels suffocating, proof that—once again—him wearing Batman's cowl isn't some sort of sick joke. However, his shoulders are a bit lighter suggesting his cape has been taken. Not that he'll mourn it.

His cowl is on. He silently curses himself for not checking that first. It would be the first thing Bruce checked.

He always prioritized the identity. The mission. Secrecy before safety, Gotham before everything else. Not injuries, not friends, not family, partners-

Dick's eyes fly open, reminding him of the real thing he should have checked for first.

"Robin," he gasps out loud, looking wildly around the room and tugging on the ropes holding his back to the chair.

The room is dark and small, the walls made of cinder bricks that have water mold where it connects to the cement floor. In front of him is a metal table with a black, palm sized box placed on top. Dick ignores that for now and looks to his side, only relaxing when he finds Damian to his right, tied similarly to another chair with his chin to his chest. Only unconscious, Dick notes as he watches his stomach rise and fall.

However, anxiety flutters in his gut when he sees there's a dried trail of blood running down the side of his head.

"Robin," he tries again, knowing at the back of his head that Bruce would be telling him to be quiet. Check for cameras. Look for an escape route. Don't let them know you're awake until you have a plan-

Dick shakes his head. Damian could have a concussion, and that takes priority. Dick could have one as well, considering how badly his head hurts, but Damian is only ten years old and Dick knows better than anyone the lingering effects injuries could have when you're a child.

He presses his feet to the ground and pushes, attempting to slide closer to his protege. He does nothing more than jolt in place. There's not enough leverage.

However, it seems the sound of the metal scraping against the ground is enough to wake up the boy. He comes to with a small groan and a pain laced crease between his brow.

"Robin," Dick repeats a third time. He can do nothing but sit as Damian blinks slowly behind his mask; his shoulders tensing as he too notices the restraints.

Damian opens his mouth, but before any words could leave there's a loud clang. The door in front of Dick and Damian, on the other side of the table, swings open.

In walks three men; two are unfamiliar, but the third Dick recognizes from the case files he and Damian got from Gordon about a week ago. Jonas Gibbs. Known arms dealer and smuggler. He's made his moves in Gotham these past few weeks, getting the police and public nervous about shootings with illegal guns. Batman and Robin had finally pinned down the date, time, and location of his next shipment and intended to take him down then, but he was smart and had hired help from various mercenaries that Dick could confidently bet used to be in the military before they were dishonorably discharged.

The way they moved, worked, and attacked was too strategic and planned. It was only a matter of time before one got a lucky hit on Damian; a blow with the butt of their rifle across the kid's forehead. The barrel of the rifle pointed down at Damian's unconscious body was all it took for Dick to raise his hands in surrender.

And now they're here, in some damp old room. Tied to chairs. A table placed in front of them with a mysterious box set on top of it.

"Perfect timing," Gibbs says, grinning. The two other men, clearly mercs, stand on either side of him as he drags up a chair and sits on the other side of the table. "I was almost afraid we'd have to dump water to get you up."

"What do you want?" Dick growls. He must want something. He hasn't taken off the cowl… or at least he hasn't tried to get through the various traps to pull it off. It means he must need something that an identity reveal wouldn't give him.

"I'm glad you asked, Batman," Gibbs says, a grin spreading on his face. He looks to one of his goons and they immediately pull a small camera out from a bag they had around their shoulder. He points it at Dick.

Dick gets a bad feeling about all of this.

"I want you to tell your real name for the camera."

Dick glares. "Are you serious?"

"Very. One of my men has second degree burns thanks to that cowl of yours electrifying him. So, I decided I'll let you go without any more harm. You tell me your names, and I'll let you go. Won't even show the video to anyone. Well," he smirkes, "unless you get in my way."

Dick clenches his jaw. Besides him, Damian mumbles something.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three," Gibbs says, unphased. "Otherwise it will get unpleasant."

His eyes drift to the black box, signifying it's mysterious importance. Dick doesn't let it scare him. He's not going to let this low life criminal blackmail him... put him and his family in danger. He'll take whatever will be thrown at him until he can work out a way to escape.

Gibbs counts down, and he reaches zero uninterrupted.

"Well," Gibbs says, unsurprised. "The hard way then. Gag him."

The grunts move like clockwork, and before Dick knows it his face is being grabbed and held in place while the other shoves a rag into his mouth and wraps a layer of tape around his face to hold it there.

"Batman..." he hears Damian mumble as the grunts back up. He sounds out of it. In pain. Dick can only hope that the hit he took to his head isn't too serious.

Gibbs retakes his attention, however, when he reaches forward and presses a hatch on the side of the black box, flicking it open on spring-loaded hinges. What's inside makes Dick's stomach drop. A needle and a glass vial filled with a yellow tinted liquid lays neatly inside. One of the grunts lifts the needle and the vial to begin filling it up.

"Do you know what this is?" Gibbs asks as the liquid fills the syringe. "I've yet to test it on anyone, but word is from the man I bought it from... It forces the truth out of you." The grunts finishes filling the syringe and flicks the bubbles. "Truth serum."

Dick has no doubt that the serum will work. He only wonders why he's threatening with it while he's gagged.

When the grunt walks around the table to Damian, he doesn't wonder anymore.

He can only tug on his restraints as the grunt grabs Damian's arm to aim the needle. Damian, for his effort, attempts to pull away, but the weakness of his head injury and his restraints do nothing to stop the needle from entering the inside of his elbow.

"You could have done this the easy way, Batman," Gibbs says. Dick watches as the syringe is pressed down, pushing the liquid into Damian's body. "I never like getting children involved."

Damian squeezes his jaw shut and turns his head away from the needle in his arm. It only takes a moment before the grunt pulls the empty syringe out before returning to standing besides his leader. A bead of blood appears where the needle left Damian's skin, but the boy doesn't move.

The air feels solid. Dick can hardly breathe as he tries to conceal his panic. He wants nothing more than to get out of these restraints and punch Gibbs and his men into next year, but he can't reach anything useful to do so. All he can do is watch Damian sit stock still as drugs spread through his veins.

A minute passes as Gibbs sits there in smug silence. Then, when a few more moments pass, he speaks.

"Robin," he says. Damian flinches, but doesn't look his way. His jaw still clenched. The goon with the camera points it right at Damian. "Why don't we start with something easy? What's your favorite animal?"

Damian curls his fingers behind his back and keeps his jaw grinding shut.

"Tight lipped huh?" Gibbs chuckles. He doesn't look surprised. Or worried. "Don't worry, I was assured that once it's fully in your system, it will hurt more to say nothing. What's your favorite animal, Robin?"

Damian says nothing, but he looks ridged. Tense.

"You look uncomfortable, Robin. Do you feel it in your head? I promise it will get better when you stop resisting. Let's try something different while we wait. Are you from Gotham?"

Damian's knuckles must be white under his gloves.

"How about your favorite color? Is it blue?"

Damian breathes a shaky breath through his nose, and Dick's heart breaks. He works harder to find a weakness in his restraints.

"My, your resilience is admirable. Were you trained on this?" Gibbs asks. Damian remains stubborn, but Gibbs still doesn't look worried. "Who were you trained by?"

"The best," Damian whimpers, cutting himself off with a growl and shutting his jaw. Gibbs smiles.

"What's your favorite animal?"

Damian shakes his head, a frustrated cry caught in his throat.

This continues, Gibbs finding victory in the one slip and pressing with everything he's got. Dick doesn't know how long Damian can last like this, and he doesn't want to find out. With every passing second, Dick knows it's only a matter of time before Damian's lips loosen. No amount of training can beat a good concussion and drugs designed to make your lips loose.

"What grade are you? Do you have any friends?"

After each question, Dick can see more and more discomfort in Damian's position. He's beginning to fidget and whimper and Dick's... Dick's had enough.

"What's your favorite color, Robin?"

"Green," Damian says with strangled gasp, sounding horrified with himself.

Gibbs smirks like a predator, knowing he's finally won.

"What's your real name?"

Yeah. Dick's had enough. With a hard tug, the ropes around his wrists finally snap against where he's been rubbing at them with his gauntlets. Gibbs and his men can barely react before Dick's upon them, cutting away the rest of the ropes with a batarang from his belt. He makes quick work of them in their shock, knocking them out and leaving them on the floor in unconscious piles.

He almost bends to put cable ties on their arms and legs, but he hears a tight whimper behind him. The moment after, he's rushing over to Damian to undo the ropes.

"Are you okay?" Dick asks, cutting through the bonds.

Damian shakes his head. Dick almost kicks himself.

"It's okay," he quickly says. "No one can hear. Let it out."

He's almost afraid Damian will force himself to remain silent, but to his relief and heartache, Damian opens his mouth and lets out a heaving sob. "It hurts- it hurts-"

Dick finally undoes the ropes, then he pulls his kid in close to his chest. "Get it out," he soothes, rubbing Damian's back.

"Dogs-" Damian starts, dissolving into quick rambling breaths. Every question he had been asked begins to be answered. Dick holds him close and lets him get it out with his tears. Silently, he sends a message to Gordon to pick up Gibbs and his men, then he messages Alfred to get the med-bay and lab ready. Soon enough, Damian is silent except for pain laced gasps, he holds tight to Dick's chest as Dick lifts him up and stuffs the vial with extra serum into his belt.

"I got you," he says as Damian continues to cry all the way to the batmobile. "I got you."

[snothing]

Request: Drabble in which Jake looks through some old stuff and finds a rather odd yet captivating item: a red tunic with a green scaly leotard, a black-yellow on its right side, a black domino mask, green gloves and finally green pixie boots. he decides to try the suit on

I want to apologize for how long this took! I’ve been so busy with school, and I made this way longer and convoluted than necessary. It’s definitely not a drabble anymore, and I added a lot of sibling banter, lol, I can’t resist. This was so much fun to make, I had so many ideas. Thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you enjoy! 

I decided to deviate from my universe, while keeping some old things. Mar’i and Jake are still twins, and Mar’i can turn invisible.

"Go away, Jaki! This is my hiding spot!" Mar'i whispered-hissed at her brother. She glared at him through a jungle of coats and umbrellas in the armoire, her mouth in a tight frown.

"Oh, come on, Mar'i!" Jake cried. With a flair for the dramatic, he threw his hands up in the air. Of course, his annoying sister would take his favorite, top-secret hiding spot!

"Shhh!" she snapped, finger to her lips. Pink eyes flashed brightly at him. "Would you be quiet? Do you want Dad to find us?"

He pursed his lips and looked down the hall. Pretty soon, his dad would be done counting and be searching for them. Still, a great wrong had been committed in the eyes of Jake. "You took my hiding spot! Get out!" he seethed, just a decibel lower.

"Nuh-uh, it's not your hiding spot!" Mar'i shot back. "You don't own it!"

Jake smirked cockily and pointed a finger past her. "Uh, yeah, Mar'i, I do." 

A deep, unamused frown settled on Mar'i's face as she noticed— in bright cerulean blue crayon— the word "Jake" hastily scribbled on the panel. "That means nothing! You don't own everything you put your name on."

He silently raged. "How am I not surprised a heathen like you-"

"-Heathen?! I watched you squirt an entire can of Easy Cheese in your mouth!"

"That was a long time ago. I’m a different man now."

"It was last week!"

"As I said, a long time ago," he retorted drolly. "Anyway, as I was saying— only heathens don't respect the sacred rules of hide-and-seek!"

"You're so ridiculous," she sighed, exhausted. "You act like I broke the law."

"Well, you might as well have. I'm hurt, Mar'i, really I am. I never thought you'd betray me like this. My own flesh and blood— my wombmate--"

"Ew, don't call me that!"

He clasped his hands together. "I think the only way to solve this and mend our broken relationship is for you to leave and find a new hiding spot."

Mar'i stared blankly at him. Jake was her favorite person in the entire universe, but there were times where she wanted to slap him. "I'm not leaving, Jaki."

"By the love of X'hal, you can turn invisible!" he argued.

"So? Dad's using heat-sensing goggles this time."

"Mar'i!"

"Hey, babe," their father's voice filtered in from downstairs. They stilled, eyes wide and locked on each other. 

"Hello, my love. Are you looking for something?" they heard their mother ask him. 

"Oh you know, just for two half-human, half-alien eight-year-olds? Have you seen them? They're like yay-high, black hair with orange skin? Got glowing green eyes?"

"Oh," Kory chuckled. "I think I know the two. Say, are they dangerous?"

"Very. The little rascals will eat all your cereal and blame it on an innocent larva."

"My, they sound like quite the dastardly duo," she mused. "I believe I saw them go upstairs. Please, proceed with caution."

Dick let out a laugh. "Don't worry, babe. I think I'm well-equipped to handle them; Batman raised me after all."

Mar'i snapped back her attention to Jake, panicked. "Go away, Jaki!" she nearly growled. 

"But-" he tried to argue, but her hand shot out and closed the armoire door, effectively ending their discussion. 

Frantic, Jake looked around for a new hiding spot. Under his bed? No, there was a monster. Behind the house plants? Nope, too obvious. In the air vent? Nah, he'd get stuck again. Finally, his eyes found the inconspicuous attic door. 

He was like 90% sure it was haunted. Uncle Jay showed him and Mar'i a horror movie once, and he learned that attics were prime real estate for ghosts and couldn't be trusted. 

But...

It would probably be a great hiding spot. His dad wouldn't expect it. 

The creaking of the stairs interrupted his thoughts and effectively ended his inner turmoil. He dashed to the attic door and braved the darkroom. 

"Oh wow," he said, looking around. The room was cramped, littered with boxes and other knickknacks. Moonlight filtered in through the port window. "Okay, ghosts, listen. I don't mean to trespass or anything. I just need a place to hide from my dad, alright? So no possessing me, okay? I'll only be here for a couple of minutes."

Slowly, he made his way through the clutter, hoping to find a nice nook to squeeze in. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the room, and it was not long before he started hacking. It was then that his left foot hit a meddlesome snag in the carpet, causing him to plummet down on a pile of boxes. 

He let out a rather undignified squeak when his knee slammed into the ground. A flurry of Tamaranean curse words left his mouth; thank heavens, his mom was not around to hear him. "Stupid ghosts!" Jake spat. The crash was loud. His dad knew where he was now. "And stupid Mar'i for making me hide in this stupid, haunted attic!"

He went to glare at the confounding boxes, but he halted when he saw something interesting. His ire vanished, his head cocked slightly. He pulled himself up from the ground and went to analyze the contents of the fallen box closer, his hand alit with a low-energy starbolt.

Inside the unsuspecting box was a brightly colored uniform. Jake's eyes widened the size of saucers. Could this be? There was no way. But sure enough, he found the iconic scaly leotard and black domino mask. Yep, this was his father's old Robin uniform. 

He stared at the red tunic with the utmost reverence; his thumb traced the R. Jake was so absorbed in the costume he failed to notice his sister hovering over him. 

"Whatcha got there, Jaki?" she asked curiously, face inches from his.

He let out a squeal and jumped several feet in the air. He snarled, eyes ablaze in a blue fury. "Mar'i! Don't do that!"

She snickered, an eyebrow raised. "It's not my fault you're not observant."

"I was in stealth mode," he said defensively. He crossed his arms. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hiding in my hiding spot?"

She shrugged. "Dad found me pretty quick, so I decided to come to bother you."

Jake was surprised. "Wait, do you mean he didn't hear me fall?"

"Nah, I told him you were being a cheater and hiding outside. Thankfully, you decided to be a klutz after he left," she informed him. She frowned when she noticed the betrayed look on his face. "What? I thought you'd be happy I saved you!"

"I think it's funny you pick and choose when to be a loyal sister."

She smiled. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Jaki. Now, what's that?"

Jake followed her pointed look at the costume. He showed her excitedly. "I think it's Dad's old Robin costume!"

Green eyes rounded. "What? No way!"

"Yes, way!" he dazzled. "Look at the insignia!"

"Whoa," she breathed. She fingered the black-yellow cape gingerly. Her head snapped up. "Come on, put it on!"

"W-what?" He gave her a bemused look. 

"I know you want to," she said wryly. She held up the tunic and pushed it towards her brother. "I bet you'd look just like dad."

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off. Honestly, he did not need much convincing. Jake had seen pictures of his dad in his early crimefighting days, but a thought stopped him. "I don't know, Mar'i..."

"Why not?"

"Well, Damian's Robin."

"And?"

"And I don't want to-- I don't know. I guess I don't want to send the wrong message," Jake answered. He sighed somberly. "Besides, it's not like I could ever be Robin anyway. I'm weird."

"What the heck?" Mar'i spluttered. "You think you can't be Robin because you have powers?"

"Robins don't have powers, Mar'i," he said, dejected. "They don't fly or shoot starbolts."

She snorted. She scooted closer to her twin, looking at him intently. "And? Anyone with a brave heart can be Robin, and as I can see, you have one."

"But-"

"No buts, Jaki," she cut him off. Mar'i was not going to allow her brother to put himself down. "I like you just the way you are. I think shooting starbolts and flying is super neat!"

"You're biased," he chuckled. Mar'i's words instantly made him feel better, though. 

Her mouth blossomed into a silly grin. "Well, yeah, duh. I know if I'm awesome, you have to be. Now, put it on!"

"Okay, but turn around. I need privacy!"

"Yay!" she piped before spinning around. Her arms and legs tingled with excitement.  

"Okay, I think I'm ready now," he told her, a bit apprehensive.

Mar'i whipped around, nearly knocking Jake down in the process. She almost burst out in awe when she saw him there, proudly donning their father's uniform. "Wow, Jaki! It looks so good on you!"

He flushed. His eyes, now concealed by a domino mask, peeked down at his body. It had been a bit awkward in some places; Jake did not care for his legs being so exposed, but otherwise, it fit like a glove. "Really?" he asked, swooshing his cape back and forth.

Her head bobbed up and down. "You look just like Dad when he was young!"

"What do you mean by that, Mar'i? I'm still young!" 

Jake and Mar'i were startled by the voice. They spun around in the direction of the attic door and spotted their dad: the first-ever Boy Wonder and best pancake-maker-this-side-of-the-galaxy-- Dick Grayson. 

"Dad!" the siblings exclaimed in perfect unison. 

Dick chuckled. "And what are you two glowsticks doing in the attic? I thought we were playing hide and-"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Jake. His eyes widened as they absorbed, his mouth agape.

Jake panicked, and shame surged through him. "I'm sorry, Dad!" he said hastily. "I-I was just hiding upstairs a-and I fell a-and I found your old costume!"

"Jake-"

"A-and I knew I shouldn't have, b-but Mar'i said I should-"

Jake paused when he felt his father's hand on his shoulders. He looked up and met his father's loving gaze. "Jake, calm down," Dick comforted. "It's okay."

Jake swallowed. "You're not mad?"

"No, of course not, son," he responded, genuine. 

"Doesn't he look cool, Dad?" Mar'i piped up, a goofy grin on her face. 

Dick smiled tenderly and moved his hand to caress Jake's face. He could not have predicted what seeing his son wear his old Robin uniform would do to him. His heart soared with love and pride. 

"Yes, Mar'i, he looks pretty cool," he agreed. 

Jake beamed and matched his sister's goofy grin. He thought his dad would be mad at him, but thankfully, he was the furthest from mad. 

"But don't think this means you can go out crimefighting," Dick added quickly.

"Aww, Dad!" Jake whined.

Dick wagged his finger at him. "Don't 'aww, Dad' me! You may have the look, but you're not old enough."

Jake pouted. "I'm not a baby anymore, Dad!"

"Aww, but you're still my baby.” He gave Jake a quick kiss to the temple. “Now, come on, you two. Mom made dinner, and I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees you."

"Did she burn the food again?" Mar'i grimaced. She loved her mother dearly, but she was not the most adept in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I don't know if I can eat burnt lasagna again, Dad."

"Now, now, glowsticks. Mom spent all day working on this meal!" Dick assured them. He escorted them out of the attic. "It's a dish from Tamaran. I'm sure it'll be wonderful."

Mar'i whispered to her brother, "I like when Mom cooks. We always get McDonald's afterward."

"Or food poisoning."

[pandoraimperatrix]

Cockblocked by Batman’s son

BatCat | Humour/Romance | 1,4k

The fucker was on her for a while, and as much as their cat and bat game was fun, it was beginning to get in the middle of her business. There was this tiny small Brazilian island with her name on it, and unfortunately it was hard to steal whole islands than jewellery, so, of course, to steal some of the latter to get her island. She was calling it her retirement plan.

She was so close to her goal 12 million goal, only 10k to go, the job had been a god send, a rich collector had just acquired an Edwardian aquamarine and diamond brooch that have been on her client’s list for ages, thank goodness it was not her style at all, so she wouldn’t be tempted. It was easy enough, the security system was not what she expected from her research, but it had been fun to crack it, it was good to be surprised sometimes, she thought, kept her on her toes.

Her prize was already safely inside her bag, and Selina was ready to leave, when he appeared dark and broody, cape flowing behind him like a vampire on a silent era movie.

“Put it back.”

“Oh for Bastet’s sake!”

She ran, he went after her, and to be fair she was having fun taunting him, but there was something odd about that night, usually he gave her a little more of work, he seemed to be lagging. She even looked behind a few times to see if he was still following her, because there was nights in which would just leave to take care of an actual life threating crime. Selina thought that was the case and stopped to look, as much as the danger of him actually catching her and taking her prize back was not null, it almost felt like a let down when he’d just leave like that without a proper goodbye. He had no manners! Have no one taught him how to treat a lady?

Not that she was one.

She turned away and head back small rooftop apartment on East End, she had just entered her home, and pulled the cowl off her head when she felt a massive weight smash against her back throwing her on the floor. Fear struck her even harder, had the celling just fallen? She screamed for her cats to find safety before she managed to wiggle her body around enough to get an idea of the situation.

“What the actual fuck!”

The celling was intact and what was currently pressing her to the floor was the wall of meat known as the Batman.

“Put… it back.”

And then his eyes closed. She had never been close enough to notice before, but they were blue.

Read on AO3

It was embarrassing. She was tied up to a bomb. Heist gone wrong, well, it was good that he appeared since it was his fault that there was a heist at all. After leaving her flat while she napped after playing his personal Florence Nightingale all night, he repaid her by stealing her brooch!

Can you believe it?

The ingratitude?

The disrespect?

It was entirely his fault that she was obligated to break into that stupid warehouse to steal her new mark – an art deco diamond bracelet with an asscher cut, totally her style, she was already planning how to get it back, for free, of course. It was not her fault that the intel that got forgot to inform her that it was the same warehouse that had been used by Don Malone to hide drugs. And that when she broke in the place was no empty and Malone’s goons thought she was working for Falcone. Of course, no one believed her when she told them that she didn’t have anything to do with that.

You know, that’s why Selina had no trouble lying, because the truth hardly matters when someone wants to fuck you up, they will just do it for good measure, for fun, because sometimes you bloody deserve it for being the fool that nursed the fucking Batman back to health and were robbed by him.

But then, just as was she was about to accept that was how she’d meet her maker, a little leprechaun fell from the roof and said in a squeaky voice that she’d be okay.

“Geez, freaks are getting younger every day!”

Until Batman appeared and started defusing the bomb she thought she had already died and was having a very weird afterlife.

“He’s not a freak.”

“Oh… he’s with you!”

Maybe she was having a very weird afterlife. But why the hell her afterlife included the fucking Batman?

“He’s my… hmm… son.”

Wait, that was too weird for an afterlife.

“Your son? And his mother is okay with that? Jesus, isn’t he afraid of falling down?”

The boy had limbed a rope hanging from the roof and was hanging upside down by his pixie booted feet.

“He doesn’t have a mother,” Batman muttered as he still worked on her bomb, well, not hers. She owned no bombs, your honour. He was awfully talkative that night, that Batman. “Robin, behave!”

Oh my god, he was the leprechaun’s father! The information was just too good and at the same time she had no idea of what to do with it. It was the kind of prize she’d keep for herself.

“I’m behaving!” the high pitched boyish voice shouted back, but he did a flip and landed on the floor. She could say she was impressed. How old was that kid? Less than ten, she’d bet.

“Poor kitten, is she…”

“She died” he said so devoid of feeling that she raised an eyebrow. Of course Batman tended to be stoic, but, that was cold even for him.

“I’m sorry for your lost” she tried lamely.

He sighed. Batman actually sighed. What the hell was happening?

“I didn’t know her. He’s adopted.”

That night was one shocking revelation after another, wasn’t it?

“So… There isn’t a Mrs. Batman, then?”

What kind of lame line was that? Urgh. But was he… Nah. She was imagining it. He had not, in fact, sniffed her neck.

Of course, she couldn’t see, he was behind her, and although she could see Robin at the entrance very well because the light coming from outside reflected his little yellow cape as he amused himself by doing what looked like very dangerous acrobatics, where she was sitting, tied to a chair that was chained to a bomb, was completely dark. She could only hope he was really some sort of vampiric meta that could see in the dark otherwise letting him disarm the bomb was not the best of her decisions.

“It’s done.”

He released her. Selina rotated her wrists and stood up, relieved.

“Robin, let’s go!”

She watched as the boy let out a happy yelp and ran ahead, they could use that one as a limitless energy source and end climate change.

“Wait” she said walking around the chair to meet him in the dark “let me say thank you first, you just saved my life.”

“There’s no n-“

He couldn’t end the sentence when Selina blindly pressed her lips against his.

She meant to be a small playful peck, but Batman’s gloved hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her close and before she could think clearly about what she was doing, her arms were around his neck, hoisting her body up to fix their huge height difference issue. He parted her lips and slid his hot tongue against the roof of her mouth, the hard pointy part of his mask that protected his nose biting into her cheek.

“Ewww,” they broke the kiss to look at Robin’s small face wrinkled with disgust, but still remained in each other’s arms for a moment. And then, slowly, they turned their faces back forward.

Selina swallowed down, she still could taste him. And he was not letting her go, she had to be the one to pull her arms back, her hells touching the floor again.

She never thought she’d ever see Batman acting awkward but there was no other word to describe the way he grunted and stepped back before nodding to her and left, taking his little killjoy with him.

She stood there for a while.

She almost died.

She kissed the Batman.

Was cockblocked by Batman’s son.

Batman’s son??

What the fuck!

------------------------------

The rain made the power go out and I was looking through my WIPs. I really don’t remember writing this story lmao. But now It is finished and you can read it!

Please tell me what you think of it.

Kisses, see ya.

[angst-fairygodmother]

So we can request Halloween stuff? Awesome. One for Diego Hargreeves, where he goes trick or treating with his girlfriend and their little girl and the rest of the family kind of tags along? I bet Diego wouldn’t want to dress up, but his little one but definitely be Robin and him Batman

A/N: Okay, I kind of love this request, and I did stick to the Batman theme. Just…a little tweak to what you suggested. (Also I love that it is just universally accepted that Diego would have a daughter and she would have him wrapped around her adorable little fingers.)  Word Count: 1416

Halloween was right around the corner, and you had to admit, you were a little nervous. It was Eva’s first time really wanting to go out trick-or-treating, and being back in the city meant that you didn’t know where might or might not be best. And the last thing you wanted was for your daughter to walk away disappointed by her candy haul (because you refused to consider the darker concerns that nudged the back of your mind about safety. If you did, you’d become just as paranoid as Diego.) That thought spurred an idea and early one Saturday, you decided to call him. 

The two of you weren’t together by any means, but you had slowly, hesitantly allowed him back into your lives, knowing that it wasn’t fair to keep him from your daughter, or her from her father. Especially since he seemed to want so badly to be involved. You couldn’t help but smile when he answered, voice husky with sleep, even if he tried to deny it. Explaining the situation, you invited him to come out to breakfast and to help you costume shop, and maybe show you around where you could take Eva on the night in question. He agreed readily, promising to pick you both up in an hour.

~

“I wanna be Batman!” you daughter declared, skipping down the street from the diner. “And you gotta be The Riddler Mommy. I can’t be Batman without a villain.”

“The Riddler? Not Joker?” you asked, knowing what her answer would be, as it was always her answer.

She shook her head, pig-tails bobbing. “No. Not the Joker. The Joker is boring, and he’s mean to Harley Quinn and you can’t dress up as somebody mean. Plus the Riddler is smarter and just cooler. Duh.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me. But Eva, darling,” you said, an evil smile creeping across your face. “Aren’t you forgetting one more person every good Batman needs?”

“Who’s that Mama?” She asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“Why Robin of course! Where would Batman be without his trusty sidekick?”

Her face grew serious as she stopped short, pouting her lips and tapped her chin in thought. Diego couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression; clearly spending even a few evenings around Klaus had given the precocious little girl a flair for the dramatic. 

“Maybe…” she hesitated before turning to him with the widest begging eyes she could muster, “you could be Robin?”

He opened his mouth to refuse. He (ironically) wasn’t the sort to dress up on Halloween, and certainly not in a fake-muscled superhero costume. And he wasn’t even sure if you wanted him to tag along. He hoped you might, but you hadn’t actually invited him yet. 

“Please,” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant with just the tiniest familiar hint of a stutter. “…Dad?”

His heart clenched. That title was still so new, so raw. Even after reuniting with the two of you, he had gotten to know her as ‘Mister Diego,’ an old friend of yours, until you were ready to explain to her the complicated reality of the situation, a boundary he respected but still left him reeling. He wasn’t sure he was capable of being a good father to her, or a good partner to you again if you ever decided to let him. But he was sure that he would do anything for her, especially when she asked like that. And she knew it.

He sighed. “Fine. But can I at least be the Chris O’Donnell one?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Eva said. “But you have to be the regular Robin. Promise?”

“Regular Robin meaning…?”

You hid a giggle behind your hand. “Break out your hot pants, Boy Wonder.”

~

You buttoned your bright green jacket as you inspected your appearance in the mirror. The entire look was a much sexier and revealing costume than you had originally thought to wear, especially for taking your four year old to trick-or-treat on a chilly night. But, if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to look good for Diego. Having him back in your life, even platonically, these past few months had only served to remind you how much you still loved him, and seeing him with Eva...well let’s just say you had a vision of the future and really hoped it was still an option. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Dad!” you daughter shouted, running for the door as fast as her little legs could carry her.

“Eva! Don’t answer the--” you called, walking out of your bedroom, cutting off as she threw the door open and launched herself into Diego’s arms before you could finish your sentence. 

He laughed, catching her and hugging her tightly.

“You really shouldn’t open your door for strangers,” he told her seriously.

“But, Daddy, you’re not a stranger,” she countered. 

“I could have been though, and you didn’t know it was me. Always check before answering the door. Or better yet, let your Mom or grandparents do it.”

“Hi Diego,” you called, having turned back to your room to finish getting ready when you’d heard his voice. “I’m just putting on the finishing touches, and I’ll be out in a minute. Make yourself comfortable in the living room if you want.”

Hearing Eva happily chattering away, you smiled as you put on your bright purple lipstick and slipped your stockinged feet into a pair of black flats (maybe a less sexy shoe than you could have worn, but much more comfortable to walk around in). 

“Wow,” Diego breathed, as you walked through the door.

You could feel his eyes trace over you, lingering on your low-cut bustier under the suit jacket and again on your very tight mini-skirt before trailing down your fishnet stockings and all the way back up again. The action brought a heat to your cheeks and you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“Too much?” you asked awkwardly. “It would only take me a minute to switch…”

“You look so pretty Mommy!” Eva cried, hugging your legs, feeling incredibly strange in her foam muscles and spandex. 

“And you look like the best batman I’ve ever seen!” You resisted the urge to pick her up and spin her around as you might have otherwise done, for fear that you would spill out of your costume if you tried. 

“Can we go trick treating now?” her words catching slightly and her wide brown eyes staring up at you, reminding you so much of the man still sitting on the couch, and you smiled.

“Of course. As long as Robin’s ready?”

The question startled Diego out of his thoughts, and now it was his turn to blush. 

“You have to promise not to laugh…” he muttered. 

“Cross my heart, I will not laugh at you out loud.”

“Y/N…” he warned.

“I’m sorry, but that is the best I can do. But it’s Halloween. Half the point is to go over the top, even when it’s ridiculous.”

He sighed, standing up and walking over to join the two of you and your eyes widened. He really had gone full costume, straight out of the classics: red vest, yellow cape and belt, matched bright green undershirt and booty shorts, ankle boots. The only thing that looked even remotely normal was the black domino mask across his eyes which you suspected was the same one he wore while hunting criminals every night.

“Oh.” You found yourself at a loss for words, shocked and moved that he would actually go through that effort, and embarrassment, in order to make Eva happy. 

The two of you stared at each other, each lost in your own confusing thoughts. 

“Ahem!” you daughter said loudly, fists planted on her hips. 

“Got your pillowcase?” you asked her and she nodded. “Then let’s go!”

Eva squealed excitedly and dashed off. You and Diego followed at a slightly more relaxed pace down the porch steps and out into the city. Hesitantly, you slipped your hand into Diego’s gloved one. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, leaning against him slightly, “for doing this for her.”

He smiled back at you, squeezing your hand. “Of course. I’d do anything for her. But it wasn’t just for her.”

“I know,” you answered after a moment, voice barely audible even to him, standing so close.

The pair of you fell silent, eyes tracking your daughter as she practically danced down the street, following behind her, hand in hand.

[jasonspetertodds]

character study #3: snow

warnings: hypothermia, death mention, swearing

Jason felt the giddy grin he almost always got while on patrol, tugging on his face as his chest tightened with excitement as he grappled to the warehouse roof. He could feel his body relax while he was soaring through the air, cold wind rushing against his face as he flew. He never got tired of it and he didn’t think he ever would. It served as a nice distraction against the chilly December air.

It was his first patrol alone, at least in a while, as Robin. And underneath the thrill of being Robin, Jason could feel the distinct, overwhelming, almost suffocating sense of dread. It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle himself, he had proven himself time and time again, it was just that the cold never harbored particularly good memories for him. Maybe it was because he could taste the impending snow on the air the second he had gotten into the city, maybe it was past trauma. It was probably both.

He landed on the roof, instinctively shifting his weight forward as he snapped his grapple back in place on his utility belt. He skirted around the perimeter, trying to find a good way to get in without giving his position away. There were three large skylights centered in the middle of the roof, but Jason was a little wary to dive head first into a scenario where he didn’t know what was waiting for him on the other side.

He shivered, tugging his cape around him in an effort to keep some warmth in as he edged closer one of the skylights, seeing if he could discern what was going on below him. He had tracked one of Mr. Freeze’s goons to the warehouse, but he wasn’t going to go in swinging when he didn’t know the stakes. Instead, he opted to stay back and observe for a bit, even if it was getting colder. Jason wasn’t aware that Mr. Freeze was operating out of Gotham again and he was willing to bet that neither did Bruce. He didn’t want to call for backup unless he absolutely needed it.

He crouched down, closer to ground to hopefully gain a better vantage point, but also to shield himself from the wind that occasionally would pick up every now and then. Jason could feel his nose turning bright red as he gazed down into the belly of the warehouse, watching the men below him move copious amounts of crates. He frowned, bringing the fabric of his cape up to his nose as he huddled a closer under it.

He sat still and watched for about an hour before he rocked back on his heels, contemplating if he should wait and tell Bruce about what he had found and come back a different night or if he should just jump down and let the whole thing be over with. He scrunched but his nose, feeling the resistance against his domino. He really didn’t want to spend another night out in the cold observing them. That would drag up memories that Jason didn’t really want to contend with and it brought up the issue that Freeze would have more time to do harm. He stood up, once more circling the skylights, getting different angles as he checked the anatomy of the inside of the warehouse and counted the men inside, just so he wouldn’t have any surprises.

He barely registered the soft scuffing of someone landing on the roof, behind him. He turned to look at Nightwing, eyes narrowing in suspicion under the white lenses of his mask before he titled his head to the side. A silent question. While he and Dick’s relationship had gotten significantly better over the course of the last year, Jason was still a little weary of the older boy. For more than one reason, too.

Nightwing grinned, wide enough that his dimples were showing as he strolled over to where Jason was standing, “Hey, Little Wing.”

Jason’s heart gave little flutter at the affectionate nickname, viciously trying to squash the warm sensation down in his chest upon hearing the term. He narrowed his eyes even more. His brother wasn’t phased by this, instead continuing on as if he couldn’t sense Jason’s suspicion rolling off of him in waves, “Patrol has been pretty boring so I wanted to see if you were doing anything interesting.”

“And,” He said, smiling, never faltering as he looked through the skylights, “It looks like you have!”

Jason rolled his eyes behind his mask, turning his attention away from his mildly annoying older brother, noting that every man had an ankle strap. No matter how tailored the suit was, Jason could always see the slight bulge of the butt of the gun disrupting the fabric. It was something he had picked up on the street. It was a nice way to be able to see who was an undercover cop. He said as much to Nightwing, who took that as a nonofficial invitation into the mission. He nodded, though Jason could see his eyebrows come together by the movement of his mask. Wisely, the older boy decided not to comment on how Jason knew that particular detail.

“How many?”

“Twelve,” Jason supplied, going to stand next to Nightwing. He wasn’t really annoyed with the help, though while he hadn’t asked for it, it was still nice to have. Bruce tried his best to drill it into Jason that anyone in the family would be glad to help him with anything he needed, no matter how small. He was always weary of the offer, especially in the first few months at the manor. He was starting, if only a little bit, to believe them.

“You know what’s in the crates?”

Jason shook his head, responding, “No idea. None of them have been open enough for me to see what was inside.”

Nightwing nodded solemnly next to him, hand stroking his cheek as he thought. Jason rocked on his tiptoes for a second, trying to keep himself from shivering. He really wanted to get this moving. If he focused too much on the cold seeping into his skin, he could see flashes of some of the people he had known on the street dozing off when it was snowing and then never waking up behind his eyes. Memories of curling up in a less cold bolt hole and hoping he would make it through the night as his teeth would chatter and he would shiver violently.

He shook his head free of those thoughts as he looked expectantly at his older brother, he titled his head to the side and let a cheeky smile crawl onto his face, “What do you say, N? Think we can take them?”

The older boy’s smile brightened as he made a move to the opposite side of Jason before he replied, “Oh, absolutely. On three?”

He nodded, placing his boot on the glass as the other vigilante counted down, “One...”

Jason crouched down, flipping his cape behind him, feeling the adrenaline already start to pump through his veins as he eagerly looked down into the glass, making sure no one had spotted them yet.

“Two...”

Jason tensed all his muscles at the same time, waiting.

“Three!”

With a crash, they were rapidly descending into the room with a sea of shattered glass raining down around them. Jason came up out of his roll swinging, hitting the first goon square in the jaw. He heard the older vigilante take down two others, the crack of his escrima sticks against their bones rattling around his skull. Jason jumped, kicking another square in the chest before he could reach down and grab his gun. They had the small advantage of surprise when they first dropped down, but it was going to be harder now that the henchmen were recovering from their shock. Jason backed up, assessing the four pairs still in front of him.

He could see Nightwing out of the corner of his eye, backing up to cover his back too as he broke at least five more bones between two more lackeys. Jason, for a brief moment, found himself a little jealous of his brother. Dick Grayson wasn’t a particularly tall or large man, but he was significantly taller and stronger than Jason. The younger boy would kill for that advantage. That was okay, though, he reminded himself. Jason had other strengths. Jason was smart.

Jason rushed, sliding under one of their legs and tugging loose his gun, effectively putting one man between two others while he discharged the magazine, throwing the cartridge to one side, behind the crates. He then swung again, breaking another jaw as the man fell to the floor. Jason made quick work of breaking both of his arms before moving to his next victim.

“How we doing, Robin?”

Jason didn’t even bat an eye as he took down another two, before he felt something in the air shift. He hadn’t even had time to respond. His eyes snapped up to his brother’s, seeing the older boy’s expression harden as Mr. Freeze entered the picture. He was up on the highest catwalk, looking down at the chaos below, the most unamused expression on his face.  Jason sneered. He wasn’t too impressed by the villain, either. All the henchmen were down, either unconscious or in too much pain to fight back. It was just them and Freeze.

“Bats.” He sneered, hand going to the lift up his freeze ray. Freeze gun? Jason thought. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He saw a flash of blue and black in his peripheral and he made a move to follow Nightwing up the rafters, yellow cape trailing behind him as he flipped and jumped up to the catwalk where Freeze was standing. They both flipped over the railing at the same time, feet landing on the cool iron in synchronized dull thunks. Jason titled his head to the side, observing Freeze, he could feel a stray back curl flop over his forehead. He knew better than to think that they had him cornered.

Jason thought it might be the wise decision to wait for his older brother to make the first move. He did not want to get hit with that stupid fucking gun.

“Freeze.” Nightwing greeted cordially.

Jason shivered behind the villain, suddenly struck with the cool downdraft from the ceiling and the cold that was being emitted from Freeze’s cryo-suit. Cryocrypt, Jason thought. He resisted every urge to once again wrap his cape around him for warmth and hindering his reaction time. He felt the other vigilante’s gaze on him and it took everything Jason had to stand resolute, completely stone faced. He was not going to let his older brother know how much he hated the cold and the snow. Instead, he took notice of the fact that Mr. Freeze’s suit had a soft backing to them at the bend of the knee, probably to allow for better movement. It was a weakness that probably ought to be exploited, especially since it seemed no one had brought it to his attention yet.

Jason sneered, knowing it would be difficult to land a hit there. Nightwing certainly couldn’t with the large pressurized cylinder on his back and the heavy tubing that wrapped around the villain’s back and legs. He took a second to realize how strong Victor Fries must actually be in order to lug all of that equipment around on him. Jason knew he didn’t exactly have a choice, because without it he would die, but the boy was a little in awe at the fact that Freeze could stand the weight of his armored suit and still sprint if he needed to. The younger boy shook his head, freeing his head of the thoughts. What was important was Jason could land a hit there and at the very least bring him to his knees.

Interesting.

“Shall we skip the niceties, I’m growing very bored of this conversation,” Freeze drawled in a heavy eastern European accent, twirling his gun carelessly in his hand. Nightwing smiled a calculated, casual smile, before replying easily, “That works for me.”

Wing jumped the second he had finished his sentence, but Freeze had anticipated it, knocking the bird away. He recovered rather gracefully, perching himself on the wrought iron railing of the walkway before trying again. In the meantime, Jason had taken that as his queue. He rotated once in the air, cape flying out behind him as he landed a solid blow on Freeze’s chest. Jason pushed away the fact that he could feel the coolness seeping out of the man’s suit through his steel toed boot. Dick followed suit, attacking again and hitting him in the ribs as Jason rotated around him, covering for his brother.

They worked in tandem, making sure to keep the man before them occupied enough so he didn’t have the time, nor the room to effectively utilize his gun while giving the other a break. It wasn’t until Jason was behind Freeze again, sweating and fatigued, did he decide it was time to finally end the fight. Nightwing, whether consciously or not, circled around the blue skinned man, positioning him just so in front of the catwalk. Jason took his opportunity.

With a startled cry, he watched as the rogue crumpled, arms grasping at the railing before Jason kicked him again, this time on the lower back. He was knocked off balance as the boy watched him slip between the bars, plummeting to the concrete floor of the warehouse. Jason didn’t even have to think as he shot his grapple line out, catching it around his ankles and securing Freeze to the railing. When he turned, he faltered. Nightwing was beaming up at him, dimples and all, as his voice rang proudly in Jason’s ears, “Little Wing!”

The older boy stepped forward, gently pushing Jason’s head to the side in a way of brotherly affection before declaring, “When did you get so good?”

He stood still for a second, enjoying how Wing had said it in such an unplanned manner that gave away that his brother was in fact all genuine pride. Jason gave a small smirk in return, content to wait for a second longer while the other vigilante called Gotham’s finest to come clean up.

Jason was just about to duck out of the skylight from when he came, Nightwing a flash of black and blue next to him, when he felt the coldest prick bury itself in his stomach. It was like ice pooling in his abdomen as he fell, skin raised with goosebumps and completely numb as he watched Nightwing’s face morph from complete victory to something very close to panic as the older boy dove back down into the belly of the warehouse to retrieve Robin.

Fuck.

Jason really fucking hated that fucking freeze ray. And he hated that he was stupid enough to let it hit him. Dick’s hand immediately wrapped around his wrist, heaving him up as he quickly fired his grapple. Jason was shivering violently, fighting back tears in his eyes as he grit his teeth. He was so cold that it burned. He vaguely heard his older brother call for Batman, voice concerned with the tiniest undertone of panic as he relayed the situation to B.

Once they were on the roof, Jason started to feel his teeth chattering as Dick tried to soothe him, “It’s okay, Little Wing. B’s on his way and then we’ll get you nice and warm.”

If Jason could, he absolutely would roll his eyes as Nightwing adjusted his grip to hold Jason just the tiniest bit closer before pulling them both to the next rooftop to wait for Batman to show up. Jason bared his teeth, snarling again when he saw the soft white snowflakes float down through the air. Cutting through the smog and filth of Gotham like it was the most natural thing in the world. Of course it was snowing. Jason hated the snow and he hated the biting cold wind that served only to intensify the burning in his limbs. He felt like if his brother dropped him, even stumbled the tiniest bit, he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

He mumbled a response back into the older boy’s shoulder, “S’okay. Glad you were there to catch me, Wing.”

He wanted to punch Dick in the shoulder for trying to coddle him like a child, though. He wasn’t a child and he didn’t need to be soothed. It wasn’t the pain or the cold that was the worst part, it was that he knew that if he looked down the dark streets of the Alley for too long he would see ghosts. Memories of him trudging along in the dead of night, trying his best to stay out of the wandering eyes of the two bit thugs and D list criminals as he made his way across Crime Alley and twice back. If he closed his eyes he was sure he could feel the soaked through clothes clinging to his frame, making him shiver even more before he curled up into the corner of a long deserted alleyway, streets away from the nearest shelter. Sometimes, if he were in particular dire straits or if he was feeling ballsy, he would worm his way over to the public housing buildings, nestling in the corner by a vent that exhausted hot air that would warm his sodden and weary bones.

He hated that when his eyelids fluttered closed all he could see was a flash of blue toned bodies, not unlike Freeze. Sometimes their eyes would be closed and other times they’d be wide open, the crows taking their lion’s share from their sockets. All unnaturally still, just like his mother had been. Jason kept his eyes open, trying to focus on anything else. N’s soft reassurances only served to annoy him though, so instead he focused on the noises of the city.

He could hear the loud curses from five streets over, the sound of boots hitting the tarmac below them, the rumble of cars as they rolled through intersections and down back alley streets. He heard the wail of sirens over the bridge, even with the snow, the sounds and the heartbeat of Gotham could never truly be silenced. They would only be muffled until the snow melted again off of the gargoyles and the sharp brutalist architecture of the city in the spring, when it would come back in full force. Even with the snow, Gotham didn’t bother trying to hide what it was.

Jason’s ears perked up, red and ringing and it hurt to move, but he had done a decent job of ignoring the pain when he heard the soft motor of the Batmobile pull up. His teeth were still chattering and his limbs still shaking and burning, but he had distracted himself enough. Dick gently handed him off to B, who wrapped his own cape around Jason’s body before propelling down the side of the warehouse. Jason lulled his head against the rough Kevlar of Batman, tugging Bruce’s cape a little closer around him as he let out a small breath. The Batmobile was warm in the way that there was an initial blast of warm air when he first entered, but after a while it started to feel just like you were next to the fireplace, warming your soul after a long journey.

“Status report?”

Jason could feel the question rumble around in Bruce’s chest as he was gently placed into the passenger seat of the Batmobile. It made sense that B would want to put him closer to the vents, so  he didn’t protest too much. Jason felt a little sad when he felt Batman’s cape slip off of his shoulders as the older man crouched down in front of him. He barely registered Nightwing sliding into the back seats as he considered the question.

“‘M not hurt. Just cold,” He choked out, wrapping his own cape around him once more and burying his face in the soft fabric. He scrunched his nose up, almost missing the way that Bruce’s face softened under the cowl before he continued, “Really fuckin’ cold.”

“Language.” Bruce scolded immediately. There was a snicker in the backseat.

“Do you think Agent A will make me hot chocolate when we get back?” He asked, to no one in particular. He scrunched up his face in disgust, not liking how young his voice sounded as he was fighting to stay conscious. The burning cold he had felt before had subsided into more of a full body ache while he was parked in front of the heat and with Bruce blocking most of the cold air with his body. He thought he saw the smallest smile on Batman’s lips, but he couldn’t be sure as he turned away with a swish of his cape, moving to the back of the car for some reason.

He returned a few seconds later, gently swaddling Jason in the thickest blanket they kept for emergencies, answering, “Of course, chum.”

With one last look at the snowflakes that didn’t melt immediately on Batman’s cape and the hard line of Bruce’s jaw, Jason watched as he closed the door and they started on their journey homeward. Dick shifted in the back too, over a seat so Jason could see him out of the peripheral of his vision. He appreciated that as he squirmed in the blanket, trying to tug the tiniest bit over his head. Doc Thompkins had mentioned something about keeping the center of the body warm in relation to hypothermia. Head, neck, chest, and groin should be covered. Jason was already pretty burrito-ed up, but he wanted to keep his head warm. They all lapsed into a tense silence. Jason could feel the waves of worry and concern coming off of both Bruce and Dick. It was the stiffness in Batman’s movements that gave the man away and the slight frown tugging at his lips under the cowl, followed almost immediately after by the flexing of his jaw. Bruce only did that when he was hellbent on fixing something.

Dick did tend to go stiff as well, but that was when he was in the field. His older brother had a habit of bouncing his knee and drumming his fingers on the tops of his knee. It was a habit Jason had only ever observed when he was a public figure, the son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson. He didn’t know why it comforted him so much to see the older boy drumming his long, lithe fingers on the soft fabric of his suit, just above his knee, but it did. The older boy was being uncharacteristically quiet, though. Jason felt his shoulders slump a little when he finally forced himself to acknowledge that he was okay. He was safe with people who would protect him. He was going to get warm and he could probably skip school tomorrow if he wanted, which actually kind of sucked.

“Jay?” Bruce had put a gloved hand on his shoulder and Jason jumped rather violently. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even seen the hero move. He felt Bruce immediately rescind his hand from Jason’s shoulder, voice still in the Batman growl, when he apologized and asked, “What was that face for?”

He hadn’t even realized that he had screwed his face up into something like distaste until Bruce called him out for it. He suddenly looked down, fiddling with his hands even though they were trapped in the cocoon of the blanket, suddenly more than a little sheepish as he bit the inside of his cheek. He cleared his throat, “I don’t want to miss school tomorrow.”

There was another snicker from the back seat. Bruce clearly hadn’t been expecting that particular answer, since he took a second to reply. They were almost in Bristol now and Jason suddenly felt very tired. 

“I don’t know if you’ll be going to school tomorrow, especially if this snow keeps up.”

Jason nodded, there was about an inch of snow dusting the ground already and it was coming down hard, in fat clumps of snowflakes. When they had still been in the city the boroughs had already started to salt the ground, which was warning enough for Jason that they expected a lot of snow. He hoped so. He didn’t want to miss doing his book report in Ms. Jones’ class. She was his favorite and she was always so interested in what Jason had to say, especially about analyzing the classics that they were reading in class. 

He was fighting to keep his eyes open when they finally pulled into the Cave. Jason waited for Bruce to come over to his side and pick him up, carrying him up into the manor. Jason knew he was going to be soaked in a lukewarm bath and then bundled up in warm, dry clothes before he could even get a whiff of hot chocolate, but it didn’t make it suck any less. Alfred must’ve already drawn the bath, since they were headed straight for his bathroom. He started tugging off pieces of his uniform when Bruce finally put him down. He let the blanket slide down around his shoulders, pooling on the ground as he yawned. Dick had stayed down in the Cave to see if he could help the butler with anything, and if he got hot chocolate before Jason he was going to be pissed.

Bruce disappeared into Jason’s room for a second, apparently looking for the appropriately warm clothes for him to put on when he was done with his bath by the sliding of the drawers. Jason stripped down to his boxers before letting the blanket fall completely on the floor. To his horror, when he looked at his bare skin in the pale yellow lighting of the bathroom, there was a layer of frost sparkling back up at him. Just like the frost that coated the bodies of people who he saw die. Jason could feel the panic building, his body shaking even more violently now that it had both anxiety and the cold to contend with. Just when Jason felt like he was going to lose it, Batman appeared in the doorway. 

It was Bruce’s gray blue eyes that met his gaze instead of the flat stare of Batman. B’s entire face softened at the bare panic that was threatening to consume Jason whole and he stepped forward, asking if he could give Jason a hug. At least, that’s what he thought his adoptive dad was asking him, considering Jason couldn’t really hear anything. He merely nodded and within seconds he was pulled into a bear hug. Jason hated to admit it, but he loved Bruce’s hugs.

Jason didn’t know when he had started sobbing, but he could feel his hot tears on his skin, soaking into Bruce’s cape at his shoulder. It was too much. His body was still shaking and to add sobbing to the mix? It was taking too much energy out of Jason. Energy he didn’t have. But Bruce held him there for more than a couple minutes, rubbing soothing circles on his back before he pulled away. Jason dried his eyes and sniffled once more, trying his best not to look at his skin. He knew it was time to get into the bath.

What he hadn’t expected was for Bruce to join him in the bath, but he did after he was done stripping away his own armor. Jason was wrapped securely up in Bruce’s arms as he hid in his chest. It had been a long night of both old and new trauma and Jason wanted nothing more than for it to be over as he clung to his father’s chest. The water had stung when he had first gotten in, but it was starting to thaw out his skin. It felt nice, after a while. Jason let his eyes flutter closed, relaxing more when he felt Bruce give his curls a feather-light kiss as he murmured reassurances. Jason liked being able to feel the words rumble around in the older man’s chest. It reminded Jason a lot of how cats purred. 

He could feel Bruce gently nudge his shoulder, willing him out of the half sleep he had fallen into sometime later. Begrudgingly, he managed to open his eyes, if only for the fear that shot through his heart at the idea that if he fell asleep while still freezing he wouldn’t wake up. He was met with as close to a smile as Bruce’s face normally got, the very corners of his lips lifted up in a small quirk that only happened when he was amused. Jason could see the amusement twinkling in his eyes before he spoke, “I think it’s time to get you to bed, Jaylad.” He rubbed his eye, “D’you think my temp is back up to normal?” Bruce nodded, ignoring the slant of Jason’s vowels that leaned very heavily to Crime Alley. It really only happened if Jason was dead tired, or if he was trying to make Bruce laugh, or if he was trying to annoy Bruce. He was getting better at codeswitching now, but he still missed being able to use Alley slang. He could really only use it on the kids he interacted with on patrol and half the time they just would stare blank faced up at him in awe and confusion. It was one part that he desperately missed. Jason yawned again, slowly working his way out of the bathtub. 

He didn’t mind at all when Bruce grabbed the thermometer and checked his temperature twice before saying he needed to change. That at least was par for the course. They both needed to change, Jason thought as he tugged on the sofiest pair of pajama pants he owned and a well loved hoodie. He would change into a t-shirt before bed. Jason didn’t like to wear long sleeves to bed, especially now that he didn’t have to. He stretched, wandering out into the hallway to see if Alfred was still up. He really wanted that hot chocolate. And to say goodnight to Dick. 

He could hear the soft voice of the TV that they kept in the kitchen floating up the main staircase. It was an unintelligible murmur, but it still calmed him down a bit. Alfred normally made it a habit of keeping it on as background noise during the nights that they went on patrol, it was normally tuned to channel seven, which reported on the Gotham news. It was a way for the butler to make sure they were okay when he wasn’t in the Cave. 

Jason padded down the dark hallway of the foyer, his footsteps muffled by the long runner that ran down the length of it. He was rubbing his eye now, his sleeve pulled over his hand as he tried to fight back the tiredness that was tugging at the peripheral of his being. Jason vaguely hoped that he would be too tired to dream. 

“Ah, it appears young master Jason is awake after all,” Alfred’s soft voice greeted, stopping momentarily from scrubbing some dishes in the apron front sink they had. Dick was changed and dressed in civvies, perched on a stool by the island, his hands cradling a mug. Jason glared at him. His older brother only smiled cheekily, before ruffling Jason’s still wet hair. 

“It’s coffee, Jay.”

Was Dick waiting for him to come down so they could all have hot chocolate together? Jason didn’t know what to do with that particular thought. No one had ever done that for him before, not even Dick. Granted, his older brother would normally high tail it off the Manor grounds the second the coast was clear, even now. The younger boy cringed, not wanting Bruce and his brother to fight, especially when he was already dealing with so much. He pushed all those feelings aside though, hopping up on the stool next to the older boy and asked Alfred if they could have some hot chocolate, if the butler didn’t mind making it.

“Of course, lad. It’s no problem at all,” Came Alfred’s easy reply. Jason beamed up at him before jumping off and finishing washing up the dishes in the sink. It was only fair, especially since Alfred had so readily accepted his request. Dick remained at the island, sipping his coffee as he watched his brother. 

“You alright?” He asked around a pause in his coffee intake. Jason didn’t turn to face him, instead he continued towel drying the dishes left in the basin, considering his older brother. He wasn’t going to tell Dick that he was probably going to have nightmares tonight, his brother didn’t need to know that. Instead, Jason was considering if he was physically okay. The bath had helped warm him up considerably, he was no longer a pile of aching skin and muscle. The heat in the manor didn’t burn against his chilled skin like it had when Bruce first brought him up. It felt pleasant now. Jason nodded his head once, agreeing with himself before he voiced his response. 

“Yeah,” He called over his shoulder, “I’m alright.” 

Jason didn’t see the relieved smile that settled on the man behind him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there as Dick sighed, “Yeah? Okay, good.”

He had placed the last dish on the drying rack when he knew Bruce was on the staircase. Jason had yet to figure out exactly how he knew when his adoptive dad was on the staircase, since the man never made any sound, but he always just knew. Alfred had turned down the volume on the TV considerably when he put the milk on the stove and the three of them had lapsed into a comfortable silence. Alfred being too focused on making sure the milk wouldn’t burn and Dick not wanting to push his little brother to talk about things that he didn’t want to talk about. It was nice, Jason decided as he once again pulled himself up onto the stool, Bruce in the doorway now. 

He felt a strong hand ruffle his curls as B passed behind him, a baritone voice asking without any heat, “What are you still doing up? I thought I told you to go to bed.”

Jason smirked, “Waiting for hot chocolate, old man.”

The man chuckled, flicking his son’s ear. Jason swatted his hand away, grumbling as he sunk down in his seat. Dick was smirking next to him, eyes alight with mirth and mischief as he tried desperately to not laugh. 

“Would you like me to prepare you a mug, Master Bruce?”

He paused in front of the fridge, his hand wrapped around the stainless steel handle as he considered the butler. Jason wouldn’t mind, it would be nice to have all of them together before he went to bed. He didn’t want to admit it, but it would make him feel safe with everyone in his little family chatting and sharing a drink.

“Yes, actually,” Bruce responded, opening the fridge to pull out a can of whipped cream and then striding over to one of the cabinets. Jason sat in awe as he watched the older man stretch up to tug down four mugs. Bruce’s size had intimidated him when he first arrived at the manor, but now that he knew Batman, and by default Bruce, was a protector he had grown to be in awe of the man. Jason hoped that he would be as strong as Bruce was, one day. He would use his strength and size to shield people, to be a protector, just like Bruce.

He watched as the man set the mugs on the counter, pushing two towards both of the boys, while he brushed past Alfie to dig around in the pantry. He returned with a bag of small marshmallows in one hand and hot chocolate mix in the other. It was a wonder that Alfred even let them keep the marshmallows in the house, since the brit despised any form of overly processed sugar. Bruce had convinced him to keep them, if only one, in the house for this very reason and Jason was eternally grateful for it. The butler reluctantly agreed but not before making all three of them swear that they wouldn’t eat them straight out of the bag. Jason watched Alfred take the milk off the heat, moving behind Bruce to pour it smoothly into each of their mugs. 

Jason immediately wrapped his hands around the warmth of the mug, reaching over the counter to reach the whipped cream and serving himself a generous amount. He only stopped from squirting the whipped cream directly in his mouth because Alfred was there. He passed it over to his brother and took a greedy sip. He practically melted in his chair. It was so good! It was so rich and smooth and not too hot that it burned the top of his mouth and his tongue. Alfred was the best.

They quickly devolved into happy chatter amongst themself, laughing and teasing among each other as they enjoyed their warm drinks and watched the snow float through the air through the kitchen window. Jason felt content for the first time in a long while.

[zombiesbecrazy]

clark and dick, tol and smol hug? love your writing!

(Umm. This got quickly Out of Hand.)

“Superman.”

Clark turned his head a few more times than he’d like to admit, looking around to see where Batman’s disembodied voice was coming from, before he remembered the communicator on his wrist. It was a standard Justice League issued tech.

Standard JL tech that Batman had never once used to contact Clark. As far as he knew, Bruce hadn’t used it to contact anyone outside of a pre-authorized mission, ever.

“Batman?”

There was a delay and Clark wondered if maybe Bruce had changed his mind or maybe if he had imagined the call all together, when the link came to life again. “I need your assistance in Gotham immediately,” said Batman gruffly before the telltale click telling Clark that the line had been disconnected, without even giving him a chance to respond. 

Clark simply sighed and took off into the sky, headed towards Gotham. Bruce wouldn’t have called him if it wasn’t an emergency.

***

As soon as he came into view, Clark knew that something was wrong. Bruce was pacing back and forth across the roof, an unusual movement of nervous energy while his shoulder were coiled and tight and ready to jolt. It was a weird combination of behaviour for someone who prided themselves on being a bit of a stoic enigma.

Clark landed on the rooftop beside him, but Bruce ignored his arrival, instead choosing to pause his restless walking and look downwards to the street below. A soft grunt escaped him, disappointment evident in even the smallest of sounds, before he turned around to finally acknowledge that Clark was there.

“I need another set of eyes. There is a young boy, approximately nine years old, who went missing earlier tonight. Last spotted on Clifton Street, headed due west. I can’t find him.” Bruce lifted his chin in the direction of the street in question. “His guardians are concerned.”

Clark tried to remain impassive, but it was such a strange request for him to be called into Gotham on even the worst of nights, but to be called in for a single missing child was unheard of when things like that were handled on a nightly basis by Batman and the GCPD. He would absolutely help, he always had told Bruce that he was just a call away if he was needed, but this was never what he expected to be brought in for. “I can take a look but I need a little more to go on. Description? Name?”

“Short for his age. 129 cm tall. Black hair. Blue eyes. X ray scan may show evidence to healed fracture to his left wrist, from approximately two years go.” Clark was about to lift off the roof to start his search when Bruce lowered his voice to continue. “Wearing a red tunic, yellow cape and a domino mask.” His lips thinned as he pressed them together, obviously not wanting to share anymore, but knowing that he had to now that Clark was the one helping. “Answers to Robin.”

What?

“Br-.” Bruce shot him a sharp look and Clark corrected. “Batman, what have you been up to?” Now that Clark thought about it a little more, Batman had been distance from the League lately, always too busy in Gotham to assist with volunteer missions but yet the crime rate hadn’t seen any sort of spike that he knew of.

Had Bruce taken a child into the streets of Gotham to fight crime? He couldn’t have. That would be impossible and no one would do something like that.

Except that all the evidence that Clark had made it sound like it was absolutely what he had done.

Even further, was Bruce now a dad? Who had put his own child at risk?

Clark wasn’t sure which he liked less.

Batman crossed his arms across his chest, giving an irritated look that had no effect on Clark now that he was listening to the way that Bruce’s heart was pounding beneath the armor. Fast, like he was at full exertion. Beads of perspiration on the edge of the cowl. If Clark were a betting man, he would have said that Bruce was doing his best not to have a full on meltdown. “It was a training exercise.”

“What was?”

“Hide and seek. Robin was to hide to see if he could evade me for an hour. Once the hour was up, if I hadn’t found him he was to meet me here. His previous best had been 52 minutes.” Bruce looked back towards the end of the building, fingers tightening around his own arms, Kevlar bending ever so slightly under the stress. “It’s been two hours.”

Clark stared at Bruce, unable to come up with a single word to say to him. Bruce had thought that it was a good idea to bring a kid on patrol with him. To turn it into some sort of game. A nine year old, loose on the streets of Gotham at night, where the worst of the worst lived and a place that frankly gave Clark bad dreams when he spent too much time there. Part of him wanted to yell at Bruce, to try and knock some sense into him, but it was clear that Bruce was already panicking about what was happening, even if it was mostly internalized. There was a child missing, one that was apparently under his charge, and he didn’t know what to do, so he asked for help from the one person he could trust to find him fast. Just doing so was an admittance that he knew he had made a mistake. “I’ll find him.” He eventually settled on, not knowing what else to say. “And when I get back, you and I are going to have a very serious discussion.” The cowl eyes stared at him unblinking, but said nothing in return. Clark floated off the rooftop “Any other ways to narrow it down?”

“He was to stay south of Park Row.” Bruce started to pace the rooftop again, message clear that he was planning on staying put in case the boy, this Robin, appeared unharmed at their meeting place. Batman froze mid step. “The code word is elephant.” Clark raised an eyebrow and Bruce turned back towards the street. “If he asks you. He’s not supposed to go with strangers if they don’t know the code word.”

***

Clark hovered above the city, closing his eyes to try and filter through the sounds of Gotham at night, which unlike most cities somehow seemed to become more alive after the sun was down. Cars driving below. Occasional planes overhead in the distance. As he narrowed his focus he heard families in their homes, parents ushering their kids into bed. He heard drug deals and plots of robberies that had yet to take place. He heard restaurants and bars serving their clientele. Pushing the extra noises aside, he listened for sounds of kids in distress, kids where they shouldn’t be.

There were far too many of them and Clark’s heart tightened at their cries as Gotham filled his ears.

He was going to have to narrow it down and to do that, he had to follow every lead.

The first two children Clark found were homeless, curled up together under a bridge but looked warm under their blankets and sheltered from the wind. He had tried to take them to a shelter for the night, but they adamantly refused, loudly insisting that their mom was getting food and would be right back. Clark wasn’t sure if he believed them or not, but promised that he would be back later that night to check on them.

He didn’t think they would run. Children rarely lied to Superman.

Similar events happened three more times. He found kids in places where they shouldn’t be late at night. They turned down his help. He said he’d be back to check on them later. They waved as he flew away.

It was a frustrating experience to be asked not to help and he was starting to commiserate with the struggles that Batman faced on a nightly basis.

He stopped in a cold, dark alley that was filled with dumpsters and while he couldn’t see them, he could hear dogs barking behind gates nearby, threatening anyone who came too close to their claim. There was the faintest of sniffles that had his attention. Clark slowly followed them, not wanting to scare the child off, when he found the source curled up in a ball and wedged between two of the bins. He would have been impossible to see unless someone was specifically looking for him, face down but with a mop of dark hair and skinned knees curled up to his chest, yellow cape wrapped tight around him.

“Robin?” Clark asked quietly, making the child startle, head raising and a domino mask blinked up at him, tear tracks clear as day splashing down his cheeks.

The small boy wiped his cheeks quickly, doing nothing to hide the evidence of his panic, and took in Clark’s appearance. “S-superman?”

Clark crouched down as small as he could, careful not to block Robin in completely, and nodded. “B sent me.” The child’s eyes widened in a way that was usually comical to Clark when kids saw him in the flesh, but tonight it just made him sad. Had the boy thought that no one was coming for him? Or was he just surprised about who it was who had. He hoped it was the latter. “You hid too well and he couldn’t find you.”

“I got lost. I didn’t want to be scared because I knew he was coming but...” Robin sniffed, pulling the cape taut and trying to cover his bare legs completely. “I don’t know this part of the city very well and the dogs and…”

“It’s okay. Getting lost scares me too.” It was true. As a little kid, probably not much older than Robin, Clark had gotten lost in a corn maze at the fair. It felt like hours that he had wandered the paths, until his dad came in and found him. He had never felt more relieved than he did in that moment. The helplessness of the situation stuck with him, clinging to his memories and liked to slink into his thoughts late at night from time to time.

The small boy hummed in agreement, taking it in stride the idea that Superman could be afraid of something, but if Robin had a close relationship with Batman, with Bruce, he would know that there are always just people behind the masks and people could have fear, mask or not. “I kept waiting for him but he was taking a long time to find me.” Robin whispered, more to himself than to Clark. “Is he mad?”

“Not at you. I think he might be mad at himself. And he didn’t say it, but I think he was a little bit scared too when you didn’t find each other.” Which was an understatement based on what Bruce’s heart rate had been. “Can I take you to him? We can walk or we can fly. It’s up to you.”

“We can… you’d fly with me?” For the first time Clark got a glimpse at a child who wasn’t scared or lost, but rather one presented with a birthday cake on a summer day. The idea of flying had chased away the shadows of the alley, at least in Robin’s eyes.

“If it isn’t too scary. It’s faster than walking and I know my way around Gotham better from the sky.”

“I’m not afraid of flying.” With that confirmation, Clark stood and took a step back and held his hand out to Robin. Robin slid out of his hidey-hole, and reached for Clark’s hand before pulling his back at twice the speed. “Code word?” Robin asked in the most serious tone that Clark had ever hear from someone so young.

Clark chuckled at the idea that a kid dressed in a costume to fight crime was questioning the safety of going with Superman, but not flying with Superman, but he clamped it down quickly based on the unimpressed look starting to appear on Robin’s face; eerily similar to the one he had seen on Bruce’s more than once when Clark has done something that had been deemed silly. “Elephant.” Robin nodded in affirmation, like Clark had successfully worked out at difficult math problem to acceptable success, and took Clark’s hand.

It was so small in Clark’s grasp.

Clark crouch down again to Robin’s height. “We have a couple of seating options of Air Superman for you this evening. You can hold onto my neck and ride on my back. There is the ever popular bridal style carry.” He looked Robin over carefully. Besides the scrapes on his knees, he seemed unharmed, but he was trembling all over, still shaken up from his adventure through the streets. “But the recommended method for a tough night like this is the Super Hug. Tight and secure and the best for when you are feeling a little down in the dumps.” Robin’s eyes widened through the mask and nodded firmly.

Clark had barely extended his arms fully when Robin launched himself at him, arms around his neck, legs trying to wrap his waist but not quite reaching all the way to lock his ankles, and chin resting on his shoulder. Clark gave him a gentle squeeze and rubbed his back in what he hoped was a soothing way, and instantly felt Robin relax into his arms, stress from his night melting away now that he felt save. Long ago, Clark had been nervous with children and babies. Always afraid that he would squeeze too hard or drop them but his Ma had laughed him off.

“Everyone is worried at first, but everyone knows how to hold a child once they are doing it. They’ll help you figure out what they need.”

For the first time, Clark really understood what she meant as he hugged Robin securely in place against him.

“Ready to see Batman, Robin?”

“Yes, please.” Clark felt Robin yawn into his shoulder, settling down further into his arms as the adrenaline from the night leaked from his small frame. “Up, up and away, Superman.”

Despite the claim that he wasn’t afraid of flying, Clark had expected Robin to react as they left the ground. Almost everyone did. They either tensed up or yelled or gave some sort of reaction of surprise, but if anything the boy someone relaxed more, cuddled up to Clark as the ground got farther and farther below them.

As they reached their destination, Bruce watched them approach. To an outsider, it just would have been Batman scowling on a rooftop but Clark saw so much more. His heart rate slowing down, muscles relaxing, jaw unclenching and a slow, shuddering sigh with each foot closer that they got. They hit the rooftop and Robin scurried out of Clark’s hold and ran to Batman, leaping into his arms. Clark did his best to try and ignore the whispered apologies on both sides and the tears that were now flowing freely from Robin as well as the ones that he suspected might be forming under the cowl as the two hugged each other, yellow cape mixing with black. He was going to skip the lecture tonight and just let Batman be reunited with his Robin. The child was safe and sound and they just needed to be together, not hear about their mistakes that they both had made. Discussions and questioning of sanity could be had another time; this was a time for comfort.

He took off from the building again, no longer wishing to intrude on this moment, but Bruce caught his eye, message passing between them.

Thank you.

Clark nodded in return and took off into the darkness that was Gotham. He had other plans, other children of Gotham to check in with on his way back home now that he knew this one was going to be alright.

Hug Drabble Prompt List

[chief-of-restless-hearts]

Chapter 3: Oaths

.  .  .

Only in the sensible blackness did he remember that he couldn’t have run. It would have killed them. Slade might not even have chased him if he escaped the base. He might have let him run, and then let him return to the Tower to find four dead friends.

Dick drifted in and out of consciousness, losing count of the slow, bleary hours.

Time crawled without any way of measuring it, but the next time he stirred awake his stomach was pinched and complaining. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, his mouth was sandpaper dry, and his head felt stuffed full of throbbing wads of cotton.

He needed to get into the bathroom, for the water, to smear the cold wetness over his face until the crusting blood washed away, to gulp it down until it cleared his throat and his head.

But he felt so heavy, and he didn’t need to do that just yet.

He could wait...

and let his eyelids fall closed...just one more time...

 . . .

 The next time his dry eyes drifted open, he forced himself to move. It wasn’t quite as painful as the night before, but as he pushed up onto all fours he had to stop and wait for a cold shadow of dizziness to pass before rising the rest of the way and making his way haltingly over to the door that he knew would be locked. He checked it anyway.

He pressed his forehead against what was definitely a locked door and waited for the room to stop turning before making his way to the little bathroom.

Everything seemed gray through the mask lenses’ artificial light, and the mirror seemed almost black--save for the glowing white eyes that stared back at him. That at least was a relief. He pulled his gloves off with clumsy fingers, twisted the faucet, and plunged his face under the icy stream, gulping it down until his stomach threatened to send it all up again. Only then did he scrub away the flakes of blood caked along his left jaw and cheek, and pry his mask away from his face just far enough to splash water against his still hot, dry eyes. Knowing Deathstroke, he could be watching even now, even in the dark.

He braced his forearms against the porcelain sink, the water only just beginning to cut the weight of exhaustion away.

It was sinking in that for the first time since this ‘apprenticeship’ began, he didn’t have his hours dictated to him. With that door locked, he didn’t have to go out, listen to Slade, obey Slade, and pretend to not care. In theory, he could now do whatever he wanted.

In theory.

His room was bare, without even an assignment to distract from the dim silence. But at least it was better than having to look Slade in the eye after...that.

He took another chest-stabbing breath, willing himself to relax, and it was in that silence that his memory conjured up Slade’s voice as clearly as if it had been spoken into his ear.

“It’s as rigged over as you are.”

With ragged, painful motions he stripped off the top of his uniform and flung it onto the floor before starting on the pants. When he wore only his undershirt and shorts he sank down against the edge of the shower base. The underground labyrinth was as chilly as ever, and he rubbed his fingers briskly over his bare arms. He could tolerate the cold if it meant Slade didn’t get to read his system like a book.

But there was a blanket on the cot. He made his way across the room and settled under the blanket in the position that hurt his ribs the least.

It really was quiet, wasn’t it? He could hear his own breathing and the low steady thud in his chest, but beyond that the room was as soundless as a sealed tomb. Though he knew better than to think that Slade would keep him in there long enough for it to become a literal one, Dick began psychologically steeling himself for what could be a hungry few days. If necessary he could slow his breathing and heartbeat to essentially hibernate through the empty hours, but until then, all he really wanted to do was sleep.

  . . .

  He managed to ruffle Jason’s mop of coarse black curls before the kid ducked away with a growl of protest. Laughing, Dick dropped down beside Jason on the edge of the tower roof. The kid scooted away to put a full three feet between them.

Despite the mere two years between them in age, Jason stood a full head below Dick in stature. The teasing over that had stopped after Bruce explained that it was due to childhood malnutrition.

Jay scowled down at the trees surrounding Titans’ tower, but his lips were twitching treacherously.

With a renewed grin, Dick leaned forward just enough to catch his eye. “You know, we could do this more often if you’d just come over to the Tower. It was fun today, wasn’t it? Being part of the team?”

Jason’s masked gaze shifted away from him. “He doesn’t let me go out alone.”

Dick’s grin slipped. “Oh.”

He watched Jason fiddle idly with the corner of his cape; it was the same butter yellow that his had been before his work with the Titans had driven him to make a few alterations to his Robin costume. It still felt strange seeing his colors on someone else, even if he had grown past the discomfort.

Jason was a good kid. It had hardly been his fault when Bruce suddenly decided that his first Robin wasn’t doing the job well enough anymore.

“...But he might if you were in Gotham,” Jason continued suddenly. “If you came I could show you some cool tunnels I found by the docks. He never lets me explore with him, but together we could...” his gaze slanted toward Dick again, and he shrugged, “y’know, have fun.”

Dick could hear the barely reined eagerness in his voice.

He should have agreed. He should have gone home. But just the thought of facing Bruce again was enough to shut that option away altogether.

He kicked back against the Tower wall. “I dunno. It’s just that the HIVE called a hit on the team recently, so we’ve got this mercenary to deal with. I’m still working on a plan to draw him out, and...I think I must have mentioned some of that earlier.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“Well, I promise to stop by as soon as I can, li’l wing.”

He reached to ruffle Jay’s hair again, but the boy slapped his hand away and pushed to his feet.

“You know, Bruce said that we’d be brothers,” Jason bit out. “That’s a real joke. It’s been two years and I barely even know you.”

Something gripped Dick’s throat. “Jay--”

"I should get going,” Jason interrupted, not even looking at him. “Bruce and I are planning on going to a Knights’ game tonight. Unless he’s busy too.”

Jason leapt off the roof, arms spread like a bird as he fell. Dick jolted to his feet, to call after him, to catch him--but below the tower was nothing but a black void, he couldn't see Jason anymore, and all of a sudden, he knew that he wasn’t on the tower.

He never had been.

Dick’s phone was ringing. But he didn’t have his phone, not anymore. Still, he took it out of his pocket.

The caller ID said Jason Todd.

He tried to answer. He couldn’t.

The ringing finished, transitioning to the answering message.

“So...hey. It’s been a while, so this is me, calling that number you gave me. You must be busy or something, but I wanted to ask if maybe, when you have time later, we could hang out...or something. So, uh...see ya, I guess.”

*Beep*

The phone was ringing again. Agitatedly, he tried again to answer, futilely jamming his finger into the button repeatedly until the next answering message began.

“Hey. Last time didn’t work out, I get it, but Bruce and I are going to go up to the cabin in Vermont next week, and he said that I should ask if you’re interested in coming with. If you’re still busy with the Titans...that’s cool. No biggie. Bye.”

*Beep*

Dick’s throat tightened with guilt and foreboding. He nearly screamed in frustration as the ringing resumed, until the message brought Jason’s voice again, this time quieter, more tense. Dick stopped breathing.

“Dick. I...need to ask you something. Do this for me and I swear I’ll never ask for anything again, but there’s something that I need to do. I can do it alone, but I was wondering if...maybe --Oh hell, nevermind.”

*Beep*

Dick’s heart was hammering in his ears.

Oh God. Not this. Not again. No.

The ringing came and passed again, uninterrupted.

“I called, Dick. Before Joker, before I even left the manor. And I’ll bet that Bruce still doesn’t know.”

This time, the voice came from a shadow he could just make out through the inky black, caped in butter yellow with gleaming white accusing eyes.

The ringing began again and this time--finally--when Dick’s desperate finger slammed on the button, it stopped. He pulled the phone to his ear.

“Jason?” he asked, breathlessly.

Shrill, manic laughter screamed into his ear, almost but not quite drowning out the gut-lurching crunch of metal slamming into flesh and bone.

He yanked the phone away from his ear, hand slapped over his mouth and fighting back the bile that was pushing up his throat.

Jason’s voice from the shadows, again.

“‘Brothers’. What a joke.”

  . . .

  He jolted awake with Jason’s name in his raw throat. He was on his side facing the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and gradually his true location sank in. He pressed his hands over his eyes and waited for the lingering sensations of the dream to pass. The adrenaline. The tremors.

His sandpaper tongue and twinging abdomen were the only indicators for how long he had slept. It had been too long. He made himself return to the sink for water. Once satisfied, he turned on the shower.

He jumped back at the sharp hiss of the water, only to flush with embarrassment. He sincerely hoped that Slade hadn’t seen that.

The water, though tepid as always, still helped soothe the bruising patched across his torso, back, and jaw. The water cut off abruptly after five minutes, and sullenly Dick stepped out and scrubbed the damp out of his hair with the towel on the rack.

Unable and unwilling to sleep any longer, he dressed and put himself through a series of bends and stretches to gauge how far he could push through the pain.

Far enough, he decided once sweat was pouring from his temples after what should have been a basic warm-up. He would be easy pickings next time Slade decided to teach him a lesson, and that thought brought a prickling of the old anger back. He was sick of being treated like a student, a toy, and a prisoner in turns. It was like the man couldn’t make up his mind.

He sat stiffly against the cot with the silence still ringing in his ears, and waited. Perhaps he should have been using the time to ruminate over a new plan, but for now his mind was a blank.

He waited, and dozed, and tried not to dream.

 . . .

 A clack jolted him back to consciousness and the door swung open to pour blinding white light into his eyes.

He flung his arm across his eyes, hastily deactivating the night-vision lenses, and peered through the fading pain to see a familiar silhouette standing out stark against the doorway. He stood stiffly before Slade had a chance to tell him to and forced himself to glare into the cutting brightness.

“Get dressed,” said Slade. “I’ll be waiting in the training room.”

“I’m not fighting you like this!” Dick shouted before Slade could leave, hating how his voice cracked at the end. “You’ve already made your point.”

Slade paused, half-turned in the doorway. Dick glimpsed the man’s profile; he was unmasked.

“Who said anything about fighting?” Slade asked dryly. “I’m not going to repeat myself, Renegade. Do as you’re told.”

Slade left the door ajar, and Dick stared after him for a few seething moments before snatching his (still torn) uniform off the bathroom floor. When he stepped into the hallway, the floor seemed to sway under him. He braced against the wall just in time. He hadn’t felt this weak for a long, long time.

He made his way down the seemingly endless hall and entered the gym, half expecting to see Slade waiting on the mat, no matter what he had said. But he wasn’t. He was standing on the right side of the room beside one of the work tables, with something in his hands.

Deathstroke’s sword. Dick recognized it by the elaborate brass hilt as the one Slade always wore strapped across his back. Fending off a twinge of foreboding, Dick approached.

Slade lifted the naked sword so that it rested across his open palms and then extended it toward Dick, who glanced uncertainly between Slade and the weapon.

“Place your right hand over the blade,” Slade instructed, and waited for Dick to comply. “Now,” he continued smoothly, “I’m going to straighten a few things out for you: You are my apprentice now, not Batman’s. You take orders from me alone. You are no longer a Titan, neither are you a sidekick dressed like a parrot, and you will only continue to make life more difficult for the both of us until you learn to accept that and afford me a little trust.”

Dick’s glare hardened. “You don’t honestly expect me to--”

“Trust will come in its own time, but until then, I want you to learn the weight of your word, once given.”

Suddenly knowing exactly what Slade wanted him to do, Dick tried to pull his hand away from the sword. Slade’s hand clamped over his, pinning it in place. Dick pinched his lips together and tried to think.

“What ‘word’?” he snapped.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

 . . .

  “This is the oath you took?”

Bruce paused, froze, for just an instant. “We’ll share this vow,” he said at last, and if that wasn’t exactly an answer Dick was far beyond caring. “If there is anything about it you would like to change--”

“No.” His fingers trembled over the paper with reverence and anticipation. “It’s perfect,” he whispered.

 . . .

 With frustration Dick waited for yet another wave of dizziness to pass.

“So,” Slade prompted. “Do I have your word?”

Dick met his gaze with as much defiance as he could muster. “Those words won’t mean anything. Only one thing is keeping me here, and it isn’t words.”

 . . .

  Batman stood over his bed, holding a single candle.

Dick’s clock read three minutes to midnight. He didn’t even think to change out of his pajamas before bounding after Bruce through the hall, down the stone stairwell, and into the cave that was dimmer than he’d ever seen it. All the way down, the oath worked silently over his lips and then, over a fraying Bible and the light of that single, gleaming candle, he raised his right hand and looked into Batman’s piercing white eyes.

“I’m ready.”

 . . .

 “Maybe you don’t understand the importance of a vow yet, but one day you will,” Slade said. “Now, say it. What is your name?” When Dick stiffened, Slade wryly clarified, “Your title.”

A moment passed, and Dick knew by the shift in Slade’s expression that something in his eyes must have betrayed his answer.

“Robin,” he answered, and the conviction in his voice was the first solid thing he’d felt in days.

Slade’s hand whipped across his face.

“I’d rethink that answer if I were you,” Slade hissed. The clamping grip over Dick’s hand returned, this time squeezing until the bones of his hand ground together, dangerously close to snapping. Dick held his cry behind his clenched teeth, refusing to break eye contact. “...Or do you need some more time alone to think it over?”

“My name,” Dick repeated, voice level but dangerously tight, “is Robin.”

Without another word the sword ripped out from under his hand, slicing across his palm.

This time Dick didn’t resist as Slade grabbed his upper arm, hauled him down the hall, and flung him like a ragdoll onto the floor of his room. His conviction barely wavered, even as the door slammed shut and locked behind him with a finality that stirred up dread in his gut.

He took one deep breath, let it out, and took another. He activated his night vision and set about cleaning and wrapping his hand with the med kit under his cot. He could handle this, and it was worth it. While in this room, he couldn’t be Slade’s tool. He couldn’t hurt his friends. He couldn’t steal, or kill, or break any of the vows he had made to Bruce and to himself.

In here, he was buying precious time, time that the Titans or the League or Bruce could use to sort out this mess before it got any worse.

He could handle this.

 . . .

 He couldn’t sleep.

He waited, even used the slowed breathing techniques he’d been taught to use in extreme emergency to bring him close to a coma, but the closest he came to sleep was dreams that he flickered in and out of so quickly and so frequently that it was difficult to discern between them.

“Enough, Jason,” he whispered under his breath. The physical sound touched his ears, pulling him just an inch closer to reality. “I know that I messed up. I should have been your brother, and I should have protected you. I KNOW.”

He flinched as his own shout rang shrilly through his skull--and through his ribs, and then he was coughing, uncontrollably even though the pain spiked through him like claws through his chest, the suffocating fluid wasn’t in his throat it was deep inside his chest and no matter how hard he coughed he couldn’t get it out, he couldn’t breathe...

He didn’t know how much time passed before he was laying limp on his side, sucking in shuddering, painful, but hungry breaths. Slowly, his heartbeat stopped thundering against his ribs.

He should never have left either of them, not the way he had, and the guilt of it clung to the inside of his chest, just as suffocating. But...Bruce had been...different, after Jason came. Suddenly nothing his first Robin did had been good enough for him, Bruce had changed and he still didn’t know why, whether it was Gotham or...or him...

Moving into Titans Tower had been his choice, his hot blooded retaliation against Bruce’s passive-aggressive maneuvering, but he had wanted Bruce to make him come back home. Or ask. Anything but the disconnect that happened instead. In the end it had been Alfred who came to see him, bringing only a question of why.

Slade wasn’t as wrong as Dick wanted him to be, but Dick hadn’t been the only one abandoned. Because where had Dick been when Bruce needed him, when Jason needed him. And now Jason was six feet under and somehow Dick was buried even deeper, leaving Bruce alone, more alone than he’d been since Dick first met him.

When it ultimately came down to the question of blame, each time he torturously cycled through it the answer was always, always, anyone but Jason.

 . . .

 How many hours had it been, now? Twenty-four hours? Fifty?

Had Halloween passed yet?

Gar had been looking forward to trick-or-treating, wasting hours trying to convince Vic and Raven to come with him. Gar had never had the opportunity to go before, and his enthusiasm had blinded him to the realization that Vic would never agree to treat his cybernetic parts like a costume and that Raven would rather drop dead than put on the Batgirl costume he had bought her in a futile attempt at bribery. It probably hadn’t helped that Gar had been planning to go as himself.

Gar had even bought a Batman costume for Dick...who had been too busy to even consider wearing it.

At the time, he had been utterly preoccupied with his work--that had largely circulated around Red X. His futile plan to draw Slade’s attention by assuming the identity of a skilled thief. Stupidly, Dick had been following the logic that Deathstroke might seek out a replacement for his former partner, Ravager, the boy Deathstroke had cried over as he died at their feet.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Not only had Deathstroke been humoring him the entire time, when the Titans ultimately learned the truth they hadn’t understood at all.

He had made a mistake, he knew that now. But back then, all that wasted time had seemed the most important thing in the world.

Dick remembered Gar’s crestfallen reaction to his apologetic rejection, and winced.

Kory had of course embraced Gar’s plans with her usual wholehearted zeal. When Gar had given her the Wonder Woman costume he had picked out for her she had embraced the much shorter boy in a bone-crushing hug and proceeded to join him in pestering their teammates.

Dick had found it much harder to say no to her cajoling, faced with wide, hopeful green eyes that glimmered with unspoken concern...but he had done it anyway. It was already difficult enough to focus on the mission without her smiles turning him into a distracted, blushing mess.

Though a selfish part of him wanted his team’s first priority to be getting to the bottom of this charade...he did hope that Gar and Kory had still gone trick-or-treating.

Right now he wanted nothing more than to get back home to the Tower and apologize to all of them for being such an ass for at least the past month...but first he would need to get out.

He would get out. Of course he would get out.

Any time now would be good, he thought earnestly, with just a hint of panic as once again the walls pressed down on him from all sides, as though by sheer force of will he might get Raven to hear him.

A voice whispered back, but it wasn’t Raven’s.

“No one ever comes, Dick. No one.”

Dick pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and pressed his forearms against his ears. “Please, shut up,” he whispered. “Please.”

 . . .

 The crack of an opening door and the immediate onslaught of piercing brightness flooded his senses again before Slade’s hulking silhouette cut between him and the light.

Slade grabbed and hauled him upright and then out the door without speaking a word. Dick tripped over his own feet more than once, a blinding bout of dizziness nearly dropping him, but Slade’s iron hold on his arm kept pulling him along. His feet were a little more steady under him by the time they finally reached the gym.

He smelled the food on the worktable before he saw it, and the aroma curdled a confused mixture of nausea and desperation in his smarting stomach. He glimpsed sweet potatoes and stewed oats before forcing himself to look away.

Slade, masked this time, halted exactly where they had stood before. He reached over his shoulder, drew his sword from its sheath, and then slapped Dick’s bandaged hand down on the blade. Slade stared down at him until Dick forced his dry eyes upward.

He was so tired. He saw a chair behind Slade at the table, and wanted nothing more than to slump down into it, already drained by the brief walk from his room.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Slade said coldly. “What is your name?”

Dick said nothing, his teeth clamped tightly shut. He wanted this over with. He wanted Slade to send him back into the dark. He also wanted to eat, and he wanted to spit into Slade’s one good eye. But mostly he was tired. He knew what his answer was, but this time he was too weary to say it.

“Do not make me wonder if I’m wasting my time on you,” Slade said in a frigid near-whisper. “Or did I not make it clear that your friends will only live as long as I have a use for you?”

Dick’s heart stuttered in his chest. For the first time he looked into Slade’s face, saw the man’s brow furrowed under the cloth mask, and fresh, almost-forgotten fear curled around his gut.

“I’ll do it,” he mumbled, gaze drifting down to his hand on the sword.

They were just words. It didn’t matter. Not really.

“Look me in the eye when you’re speaking to me.” Slowly, wearily, Dick obeyed the order. “Your name?” Slade prompted him.

He forced the name out. It felt like ripping something out of his chest, something he could never put back. I’m sorry, Jay. I’m sorry the title had to die with me.

“Renegade.”

“And what do you swear to do,” Slade asked, “on the lives of your friends?”

He could have sworn he could still smell the burning wick, feel the leather binding fraying under his fingers, still hear Bruce’s baritone voice overlaying his own as they spoke the oath together, ‘I swear to fight against crime and corruption, and never to swerve from the path of righteousness--’

“I swear to,” he swallowed, “serve as your apprentice.”

“And?”

“To follow your orders.” Words. Just words, he told himself, even as frustrated tears pricked at his eyes. “But--”

“No,” Slade barked. “No conditions. That isn’t how this deal of ours works.” Slade pulled the sword back and slid it back into its sheath. “We’re done,” he said shortly, and waved a hand toward the tray of food that Dick had given up on looking away from. “When you finish that there’s medication in the kitchen.”

Dick watched Slade walking away, fully confident that he had won, and what was left of Dick’s anger reached its boiling point.

“What about you?” he burst out. Slade stopped, and turned slowly. “If this is a deal, then what’s your oath?”

Slade surveyed him for a long moment before he spoke. “You have what I’ve already promised you, that I’ll teach and train you to the best of my ability...and that your life from now on will only be as difficult as you make it. You have my word on that. And I do keep my word, Renegade.”

He turned, then stopped as though something had occurred to him. “Oh, and I fixed you a new uniform top. You’ll be wearing it tomorrow night.” Slade grabbed something from the table beside him and tossed the black and orange bundle of kevlar beside the food tray before starting for the hall. “I’ll be going out tonight,” he called back. “If I were you, I’d use the time to ensure I was in shape for my first encounter with the HIVE.”

As soon as the doors closed behind Slade, Dick dropped like a stone into the chair by the table. His stomach was doing uncomfortable things at the sight of the food, and it was all he could do to make sure that he ate slowly enough to keep the food from forcing its way up again.

Finally he finished and leaned back in the chair. Slade had left an ice pack beside the tray; Dick carefully pressed it against his ribcage, and was musing over what medication he should take before proceeding with some semblance of a workout when Slade’s final words finally sank in.

The HIVE? They were going to ‘encounter’ the HIVE?

The one mystery that had haunted him beyond that of Deathstroke’s identity had been the HIVE’s location and intentions. The Titans had known that Ravager had been hired by the mysterious organization, but beyond that Dick hadn’t had a clue of where to start an investigation. That had left the team completely vulnerable to whatever attack might come next, and it had been driving him mad.

But then Deathstroke had proven himself a more immediate threat, and the organization had lost its priority.

What was Slade planning now? He had as good as said that first night that he planned to hold the HIVE accountable for what had happened to his son, and that he intended for Dick to help him do it. Well, that was one thing Dick would not object to.

Dick’s gaze drifted toward the new uniform lying on the table, forgotten until now. A little curious, he reached to pick it up

--only to drop it like a burning coal.

A familiar emblem, a golden ‘R’ that he hadn't expected to see again, was attached to the kevlar over his heart.

R, for Renegade.

  + - + - + - +

  A flurry of thin screeching and leathery wings heralded his return. Long, weary steps, hindered by the tattered cape tangling around his ankles, carried Batman from the landing bay toward the main computers and past the enshrined uniform.

His fingers skimmed a feather touch across the glass casing in answer to the youthful greeting whose deafening absence hollowed the cave out into a tomb, as it should. He settled heavily into the computer chair, and exhaled as much of the weight as would pass out of his lungs, while the gravity still dragged him down.

Familiar clipped footsteps approached his seat from behind, and then paused. “Welcome home, Master Bruce. I trust that you return uninjured?”

Bruce didn’t push back his cowl, didn’t turn. In keeping with their nightly routine, he activated the computer before Alfred would inquire further.

“Sir,” Alfred began again, hesitantly, “during your absence Lucius Fox made multiple attempts to contact you. I...must insist that you listen to what he had to say.”

“I’ll look into it,” Batman said, and his voice came out like gravel. He swallowed, and then out of basic duty, and debt, he forced out the rest. “...Thank you.”

Alfred opened his mouth briefly before resigning himself to pensively pinching his lips together.

Batman pretended not to notice.

Alfred’s concern was ironic, to say the least. If patrols had been ending with more injuries than usual, even Alfred must understand how little that mattered now. With that shrine erected in memory of a child’s life cut short while the father’s inexplicably lingered on, it was impossible to believe otherwise--or to be selfish enough to wish that the still-living child might return to the city that would only eat him alive too.

He prepared to review Gotham’s recent activity. It was inevitable that an excursion with the League, no matter how rare or how urgent, had resulted in him being cut off from his city. He had told the League to contact him for nothing less than an emergency of intergalactic proportions--and they had then proceeded to summon him for exactly that.

Grimly, he braced for the inevitable. The unanswered signals, the damage, the deaths...

An alert flashing across his screen interrupted his search, and in an instant he was viewing surveillance footage of a recent theft from Wayne Tower.

At his shoulder, Alfred sighed. “Perhaps the messages shall be unnecessary,” he said, a note of tension coloring his tone.

Batman didn’t have time to wonder why before the screen came to life. A figure in orange and black emerged from a hatch and darted across the rooftop--with the Teen Titans hot on his heels. At one end of the roof the figure halted, hand pressed to his ear, as if listening to an earpiece.

Bruce’s finger slammed down on the keyboard to freeze the screen. He zoomed in. The intruder was clearly a teenager, whose long dark bangs nearly obscured the domino mask that left his identity unmistakable.

Bruce lurched to his feet, shoving back his cowl, eyes glued to the screen as he searched desperately for a contradiction to what he already knew to be true.

But the recording played on, and Bruce watched as Dick took on his own team single-handedly, his attacks clearly restrained, yet marked with the ferocity of a battle he could not afford to lose. By the time the clip ended the Wayne sign’s lettering was scattered in smoking shambles across the roof, and Dick had vanished with the dissipating smoke, leaving Bruce with a hauntingly familiar hollow forming in his chest.

“Is the lad alright, sir?” Alfred asked softly.

Was he? Bruce should know, he should have watched his surviving son more closely because he recognized those colors, that pattern--

and, already, it was happening again.

[kaylathekittykat225]

Bonds Across Lifetimes // Dick Grayson X Reader

Warning/s: death, pain, um, flirting? It’s a relationship based one basically

Word Count: 4,217

I thought this was cute, but then again, this is something I wrote almost two years ago and dug up out of my computer, so please don’t judge me too hard core about the corniness.

Here’s my Masterlist.

Enjoy.

—–

Bonds can span lifetimes. The bond of friendship is the foundation to every other bond known to mankind. No one can yet explain how a bond is formed; but whether through magic, other worldly intervention, or something as simplistic as the workings of human emotions, bonds are formed within the first moments of meeting.

Age 8:

Driving through on the outskirts of the city of Gotham is one mistake you would wish your parents never made, but at the same time is happy that you were on the snowy road on the Christmas Eve of 2007.

As you opened your tired eyes, you had to blink multiple times to get the clouds out of your eyes. You looked around, wondering when you fell asleep in the car, taking a while before you notice that the car your family had had as long as you could remember was shoved into a tree on your daddy's side of the car.

"Mommy?" Your young voice squeaked out, looking for your parents around you, not seeing them in the front seats. "Daddy?"

The front window was gone, where did that go too?

You reached for your seat belt, wanting nothing more than to walk around and find where your parents went off to and know why they left you in the car. But your car seat was in the way, pinning the buckle beneath the plastic seat.

"Hello?" All around you from what you could see out the window looked like a bunch of trees with the classic fluffy snowflakes of a Gotham winter covering the car and everything around it.

There were no houses or roads or anything to tell you where you were.

Or the better question, why you were alone in your car.

"Help," Your voice grew quiet, your lower lip began to tremble as warm tears in your eyes began to spill over and run down your cheeks.

A tree branch snapped loudly near you, your sobs stopping to listen for who, or what, was coming near you.

Was it a bear?

Were there even bears in Gotham? Or what if it was Joker, or Penguin, but why would they-

"Robin, really? A stick?"

"Sorry." Two voices began bickering at each other, one sounding older than the other. "I just wanted to get a better look."

Two figures stepped in front of your car; their shadows were all you could see through the heavy snow fall. "They look dead, both of them." The younger of the two voices spoke, the smaller shadow moving around and got darker as it got closer to the car.

"Robin, don't get closer, I smell gasoline." The older and scratchier voice called to the younger one, the shadow stopped getting closer and looked like it started to get farther away.

As the voice spoke, your nose agreed with him, the smell of a gas station whenever your dad would fill up your car filled your nose. You never did like that smell, it smelled like bad corn on the cob. "What if someone else is in the car, Bruce?"

"They would have been killed with the crash as well, there's no way someone could have survived a head on collision with a tree. We need to leave before the cops show up; I called them as soon as I saw the car."

"Wow, you think of everything, Bruce!"

"Robin, it's Batman when we're out on patrol."

"Oh, sorry." The two voices went farther and farther away from you, the shadows fading away.

You wiggled in your seat, trying again to get free from your seat belt keeping you stuck in the car, the gas smell started to like roasting marshmallows and burnt cookies, "Help! Wait! Please! Help me!" Tears rolled down your face as your fingers began to bleed, the plastic cutting into your skin; your screams and sobs now mixing with coughs from the smell and air chocking you.

How could a little one like you possibly understand what the two voices meant when your parents were dead? How could they be? You just saw them a minute ago when they were driving home.

"Help!" Your voice croaked, the loud screaming hurting your throat, the snot you kept swallowing didn't help either.

Something loudly boomed on the roof of your car, a blanket covered the window behind you, which somehow was still together after being shoved into a tree. The only thing now that allowed you to see was the fire burning from the front of your car.

Wait, fire?

"Hi." A face popped in front of your broken window out of nowhere, the hot yellow fire lighting up his black mask and the smile on his face. The sudden movement proceeded to cause you to scream again, leaning into the corner of your car seat with nowhere to go. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here to get you out." You nodded your head after noticing that he talked like a kid your age.

The boy took out a knife, the silver glinting in the fire light, oh right, the fire. You looked over at the front of the car and saw the fire coming closer to you. "You're free." The boy told you, grabbing your hand to pull you out the window and led you away from your car and the tree it was smashed into.

As soon as the two of you stepped behind a tree, a loud and resounding boom filled your ears, a shock wave shaking the ground beneath you.

You pressed your hands to your ears; all you could hear was ringing while you felt someone hugging you to them. Their breath hitting your face, their own heart beat pounding against your cheek, the rate easily out racing your own.

---

There you were.

Shivering in the cold snow up to your ankles, your purple dress torn and tattered.

Your right foot was cold, that shoe lost in the car you now stared at, the flames flickering and lighting up you E/C eyes, still wet from crying.

Your parents were dead.

Leaving you alone in the woods, cold, and with only one shoe.

"You okay?" The person who pulled you out of the car stood next to you, you noticed he was a little taller than yourself.

"Mhm," He nodded with you, wrapping his cape around your shoulders as you shivered. The Robin logo on his chest now visible to you, confirming that the masked person beside you was in fact Robin, one half of the Gotham Caped Crusaders your parents always talked about.

"Um, Batman is just calling the police, and then you can come with us if you want." Your eyes met the white lenses of his mask before you smiled at him. "I'm...I'm Robin by the way. But I bet you already knew that." He smiled down at you; your eyes being even with his mouth saw a missing front tooth, waiting for a new one to replace it.

"I'm Y/N," You said, giggling at the hole in his mouth, his own confused look contorted his face, questioning why you were laughing at him. "Your tooth is gone."

"Yeah," His smile grew wider as he showed off his missing tooth, proudly placing his hands on his hips. "I lost it last week and everything!"

"Cool! I got both of mine a while ago! See." You smiled like him, showing off your two big kid teeth. He looked in your mouth and his smile turned into a pout, crossing his arms over his chest to emphasize his unhappiness.

"That's no fair. I wanna have my big kid front teeth." You wanted to say more, but a big hand gently pushed the two of you forward, one on each of your backs. Your eyes followed the hand up and saw the masked face of Batman.

"Let's get you two kids home. Y/N, I have someone who's willing to take you in. Welcome to the team." His scratchy voice wasn't so scratchy anymore; it was like he cleared his throat of snot.

You and Robin met each other's stare and giggled, quickly racing each other towards the Batmobile, while the legal driver watched you two with a rare smile on his face, happy that Dick may finally have someone close to his age to be friends with.

Bonds can form from a single look. A single touch.

Science still can't explain how they are formed, or why they are so powerful to break.

But it is the challenges they go through that tests the everlasting strength of a bond.

Age 14:

You sighed loudly, but not loud enough apparently to interrupt Zatanna very openly flirting with Robin. Now you wouldn't be totally bothered by this, if it weren't for the fact that the two of you were dating.

A year long relationship with Dick Grayson was the best thing that had ever happened to you, but it was hard to conceal your feelings toward him when the two of you are in the field together. 

At Gotham Academy, the both of you are the open couple, at least, open in the fact that the two of you were almost always seen together, holding hands, trying to out run the other in gym, where ever Y/N was, Dick wasn't far behind, the same way around. Having to go into the stoic, teammate only based relationship of being Robin and Y/S/N, you were slowly going mad. 

"Aw, come on, Robin, just one date, like coffee, or food, or anything that will get you out of Mount Justice." Granted, you loved Zee, but not right now. Sitting across from the two as one flirted and the other tried writing a report for Batman wanted to make you sick. 

"Ah, young love," Wally sighed as he flopped down onto the couch cushion next to you, his masked pulled down as he chuckled at how awkward his best friend was females. "Isn't it just beautiful." 

You grunted in response, if you had the power of Superman's heat vision, the hole in Zatanna would be huge. "Hey, Y/S/N, hello." Wally snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, trying to get any reaction from you, he had just made the best joke and no one heard it! What wasted potential.

Shaking your head, you turned to the ginger, apologizing, "Sorry, was accidentally practicing my Batglare." 

Wally hummed, turning back at the two awkwardly flirting teenagers, amazed that his ladysman friend wasn't jumping at the opportunity to go on a date with one of the hottest YJ members, "So why is it that Zatanna's the target for your glare?"

A blush quickly made its way up to your cheeks as you diverted your eyes away from the two raven haired teenagers, "She's not, I was just staring in that direc-"

"Oh. Oh, I get it!" Wally shot to his feet, a wide grin on his face as he became aware of what you were up to. "You like Robin!" 

"Wh-what! N-no! What made you think that?" Ad hard as you tried to play off Wally's accusation, the ginger saw right through you. 

"Oh darling, you've got it bad for him! How long have you liked him? When was it, have you made a move what about..." His lips moved a mile a minute, his words all getting jumbled together as his excitement built.

"Wally!" You screeched, jumping on top of him to firmly press your hand against his mouth to shut him up. "Stop that!" The two of you were not in a funky looking predicament, with you straddling his waist and your face hovering close to his.

"I will not!"

"Ew! Why did you just lick me!" You pulled your hand back, wiping the spit on your pants to get the nasty liquid off. "So, what if I like him?" You kept your voice low, hoping Robin couldn't hear or see the two of you. 

"That means so much! You wouldn't believe how much he talks about you! It gets so annoying!"

"Wally! Would you shut it!" You tried moving your hand over his mouth again, but he was prepared, using his speed to flip the two of you over to have him straddling you, his hands pinning your above your head. 

"Come on, Y/S/N, what's so bad about liking Robin, it's not like he's a dick or something." You rolled your eyes as the speedster giggled at his own immature joke, not knowing you fully knew Robin on both sides of the cape. 

"Honestly Wallace, could you be anymore immature," You growled at him, his face almost immediately washing of any color when you said that. "I finally did it, silenced the ever-chatty Kid Flash." 

But Wally didn't react to your jeering, he stared down at you in disbelief, his bright green eyes wide with shock, shock you didn't know you had caused. "Okay Wally, close your mouth before you start drooling on me." 

He kept staring at you, almost in a trance while you tried wiggling out from under him. "Wally, don't make me use your...full..." Your eyes widened as you realized what you did. "Crap!" 

You as Y/S/N never called him Wallace, you weren't even supposed to know his full name, Y/N, on the other hand, you and he were practically brother and sister with how close the two of you were. "Wally, snap out of it." You groaned as you tried pushing against his hands, but his entire body weight was pressing into them. 

What do you do? 

What can you do? 

Groaning, you accepted defeat, "Uh, hey Robin." Your voice was kinda meek, not really wanting to pull the conversation of those two to you now, even if you were still sick of seeing Zatanna try making a move on your boyfriend. "Could I get some help?" 

His head pooped up from the kitchen where he tried retreating from Zatanna to, even though she easily followed him, eyebrows raising when he saw the two of you. "Y-Y/S/N. Wh-what's this?" Even with the mask on, you could read him like an open book, he was confused and almost hurt seeing the two of you situated like that. 

"Wally and I were having a wrestling match and then he froze. Just get him off me, I'm losing feeling of my hands." He slowly nodded and ran over to grab hold of Wally, pulling him up and off you. 

"Holy...you weren't kidding when you said that he was frozen, he's like a ton of bricks!" Robin groaned as he shoved his limp friend onto the floor next to the two of you, reaching his hand down to pull you to your feet. "What'd you do to him?" 

"Well..."

"Y/N?!" Wally decided that this was his time to wake back up from his weird trance like state, his arms flailing as he tried figuring out where he was instead of leaning over you like he was before. 

"Wally!" You hissed back, your eyes couldn't be seen behind your black domino mask, but you were quickly glancing at Zatanna who was trying to hide in the kitchen. 

"But...you're...the two of you...huh?!" 

"Honestly," Robin gently wrapped his arm around our waist, pulling you closer to his side. Looking up at him he had his signature smirk on his face as he smiled down at you. "I'm surprised it took him this long to figure it all out." 

You giggled at his comment, smiling at the thought as well. "Oh yeah, I mean, we are supposed to be his best friends." 

Wally stood dumb founded before the two of you, his jaw about ready to drop to the floor as he realized this wasn't a joke. "What the hell! Why am I now just figuring out that Y/S/N is Y-" You once again reached forward and slapped your hand over his mouth. 

"Wally, another talk for another time, we have an audience now." Zatanna had now fully stepped out of the kitchen, M'gann floating near her, Artemis also looking over her shoulder to see what was going on. "Well, the cats more or less out of the bag," You muttered, still feeling Dick's arm around you, the three girls were all staring at how touchy he was being with you. 

"Wanna just come clean?" Nodding up at your boyfriend, you smiled and stood on your tiptoes to press your lips against his, his other arm finds your waist pulled you flush against his body while your arms went around his neck to keep you steady. 

"Called it! Pay up!" 

"Dang it, I thought I had him!" 

"Wally? Hey, Wally you okay? Guys, I think they broke Wally."

The bond of friendship is the building block and foundation to all other bonds. Bonds are meant to grow over time, never staying the same, having the ups and downs. It's the ups and downs that make the bonds stronger. Bonds are always tested, always pushed to its limit, just to see if the bond will stand the test of time.

Age 20:

You sighed as you watched Tim type away on the main monitor of the Batcave in front of the two of you. You were happily sitting by yourself in the large bat like chair watching as the team patrolled around Gotham, you stuck in the Batcave with a busted collar bone, a hip still sore from being dislocated and the job of making sure Tim didn't die from that concussion he got last   night. 

Tim decided to push Alfred's buttons, who was making a late-night dinner for the crusaders, and sneak downstairs to the cave and use this grounded time to practice his hacking. And in order to get to the monitor, he needed to get you away from it. 

"Was jumping me really necessary?" You groaned as you shook your head working on waking yourself up from being bopped over the head with a stapler. 

"Sorry," He gave you an apologetic smile before turning back to the monitor, from where you were sitting you could see he had about fifteen different tabs open, all of them being used at the same time and somehow not slowing down the processor. 

Tim began muttering to himself about he needed to out hack the Robin hacking system Dick installed to train hackers on how to hack and keep outsider hackers out. Honestly, you were surprised he didn't three more 'hacks' into that sentence. 

"Timmy," You groaned as you tried pulling on the rope, your shoulder twinging in pain as you worked to free yourself. "You're going to make this all worse for yourself. You won't be able to go out as Red Robin for weeks if you keep looking at that huge computer." 

"But I need to keep up my practice. I need to get better!" Apparently reasoning with a concussed teenager doesn't work well. Who knew. 

"Tim, come on, just go back up to Jay's room, we put you in there to stop you from using any of your tablets or computers. You need to rest."

"Have you ever been in Jason's room, I think he left a tuna fish sandwich in there and forgot about it! It smells so bad in there."

You quietly whimpered in pain, you normally weren't this emotional, but with your arm being tied behind your back and your pain meds wearing off, your mind was going through the roof with the pain you were in. 

"Timothy, Tim, Timmy, TimTim," Shutting your eyes, you muttered as many little nicknames you could as you tried blocking out the pain. "Can you at least give me ibuprofen?" 

"Yeah, give me five minutes." 

You gulped, knowing Tim had already forgotten about your request even within ten seconds of him answering you. "Dammit Dick, where the hell are you?" 

To say you were angry was an understatement. Your shoulder was pounding, the boy you were told to babysit knocked you out and tied you up and was clearly loopy, watching him click on the same tab five times before realizing that he was clicking the wrong one. 

Twenty minutes had passed, and Tim was becoming more and more confused with every second he sat in front of that computer, he wasn't even responding to you calling his name. You resorted to calling out to Alfred, but even he wasn't responding. "Holy crap Tim, did you knock Alfred out too!" Still no answer. 

You tried pulling yourself to your feet, but your hip locked up, as if telling you to not even think of moving. "Remind me to tell Batman to never let me babysit Tim again when he's sick." 

From outside, you heard the loud roar of the Batmobile followed by the quiet purr of Jason's motorcycle. Thanking every god you could think of, even if it took forever for them to get back, to sighed in relief as the two of them pulled in. "Honey I'm home!" Dick joyously cried as he hopped out of the shotgun seat of the Batmobile.

"Get Tim away from the computer!" You barked at him, leaving Dick confused while he looked for your voice. "Richard Grayson get Tim away from that computer." You ordered once again, not needing him wasting time looking around like the idiot he could be sometimes. 

Bruce swished past where you were hidden and pulled Tim out of the chair, pushing him onto the medical bed just to the side to get him away from the bright monitor. "Y/N, why'd you let him out of the room?!" Bruce still had his Batman voice going as he checked Tim's eyes, while the teen weakly fought back. 

"I'm sorry he jumped me with a stapler!" You screamed back, Dick finally able to find you, he himself quickly running to you.

"What do you mean he jumped you?!" 

"He came up behind me and hit me on the head, with a stapler! How is that so hard to understand Bruce!" You screamed back at him, Jason was slowly sneaking upstairs to see if Alfred had any food ready, he wasn't really in the mood to hear his family scream at each other all night. "You trained him! You taught him how to pick any damn lock!"

"Y/N, babe, calm down." This was very out of normal behavior for you, sure you weren't the most level-headed person, but you were acting very rashly about this. He finally undid the rope around your wrists and helped you to your feet, slipping his arm under your legs and picked you up, keeping very gentle care of both your hip and shoulder. 

Hiding you face in your boyfriend's shoulder, you finally had time to calm down, "How am I supposed to calm down when Bruce is blaming me for being jumped? Plus, my arm fricking hurts." 

The blacknette sighed "When was the last time you had your meds?" He kicked the up button on the elevator, waiting for the pulley system to meet him at the bottom. He thought he heard you say when they left, but he must have heard wrong. "What was that?"

"When you left." Your voice was louder now, but still muffled by his shoulder, meek in having to confess that you were really in pain right now. 

Dick groaned in annoyance, "Babe, no wonder you're so moody." Mumbling an apology, Dick stepped into the elevator and rode it up to the entrance out into Wayne Manor. He walked the two of you up the stairs to his bedroom where he gently placed you on the bed and walked into the bathroom. 

You grabbed one of his pillows and shoved your face into it, smiling as his smell filled your nose. 

The gentle shake of a pill bottle pulled you out of your pillow cuddle moment and you slowly sat up, seeing Dick had changed into sweatpants and one of his skin tight t shirts, hugging every one of his muscles, somehow making him look more muscular than he really was. "Let's get you some pain meds," He muttered, slipping two of the small red pills into your hand, and pressing a glass of water into the other. 

Faster than he could do a back flip, you down the pills and the cup of water, handing it to him as a shudder ran through your body. "Honestly, Gotham needs a new water filtering system." You muttered while hacking, trying to get the metallic taste out of your mouth. 

"Or you could just get used to it." He chuckled as he slipped in under the covers with you, sliding himself closer to you till he could at least wrap an arm around you.

You hummed as you considered his offer, "Nah, I'll just keep hating." The smile on your face was very evident as you felt Dick's chest vibrate behind you. 

The two of you fell into small talk, asking him how the mission was, anything interest. Whether Bruce's car still smells like slushies from when the two of you bought said drink and spilled it everywhere. This slowly faded away as you felt your eyes get heavier as you felt sleep finally taking you over. 

Well you were almost asleep. 

"A stapler? Really?" 

"Why don't I hit you over the head with one and you can see how well it works Bruce!"

Bonds are meant to be tested. To stretch. To grow. To twist and turn. Almost as though they were meant to be pushed past breaking.

But the best of bonds never break, they are strong through determination and the will of two young super hero legends, no bond between the two can break. It will only grow stronger. Stronger through every day spent together and every day they spend together.

[sylvanfreckles]

Run, Don’t Look Back (FebuWhump 15)

Whew, over halfway there!

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Awakening Summary: Chrom and Robin are separated from the others during a Risen attack.

* * *

“Run! Go!” Chrom shoved at Robin's shoulder to push the tactician ahead of him, spinning around at the last moment to block the blade that descended at his back.

A flare of flame from behind him stopped the Risen in its tracks, and Chrom took the chance to spear the monster through the chest and rip his falchion out through its side. “Keep moving,” he panted, shoving at Robin again.

They'd been separated from the rest of their forces when the Shepherds had been ambushed. It was all Chrom's fault—he'd wanted to take his friend aside to ask advice for a personal question, and instead of waiting until they'd safely made camp he'd pulled Robin to the rear and let them fall too far behing the rest of the party.

“Chrom!” Robin threw himself back, colliding with the prince, knocking him out of the way as a spear plunged through the air. “They're circling around us.”

Chrom shifted his grip on his falchion. “Any ideas?”

Robin's dark eyes darted around wildly. “There,” he nodded toward his left, “there's a break in their ranks, we might be able to get through.”

Following Robin's gesture, Chrom shook his head. “That would take us further from the others.”

“I know,” Robin broke off as a Risen broke free of the undergrowth and charged. He had his own sword in one hand and ducked under the monster's swing, the blow glancing off his sword, and came up behind it to fire a blast of Elfire into its back.

Chrom leaped and turned a quick somersault in the air, landing both feet on the Risen's shoulders and burying his sword down through the back of its neck. “We can't hold them here.”

“We'll circle around,” Robin explained. He'd put both sword and spell tome away to retrieve another—an Arcthunder tome—which he leveled at another Risen and sent it crumbling with a blast of magic.

“How many of those are you carrying?” Chrom wondered as he stepped in front of Robin to swipe another spear out of the air.

“I like books,” Robin shrugged. He'd ducked under Chrom's arm to send a streak of lightning at the nearest Risen. “Let's go!”

He didn't need a second warning. Chrom shoved Robin in front of him again, bearing for the slight break in the Risen surrounding them. “They'll catch up pretty quickly if we try to head up the slope,” he panted as the ground beneath their feet slanted upward. “I don't think we can outrun them.”

“Just to the ridge,” the tactician glanced over his shoulder at Chrom. “We can leap over it and slide down the embankment to the dry stream bed, then follow that back around to the rest of the group. The Risen won't be able to cut us off further along.”

There wasn't time to doubt his friend's plan—and Chrom wouldn't have anyway—so the prince doggedly followed his tactician up the slope and paused just long enough to put his shoulder to a  boulder and heave with all of his might. Robin noticed, luckily, and added his strength and they sent the rock crashing down onto their pursuers.

“Now?” Chrom gasped. He'd taken a hit to one leg at some point, and a stitch was growing in his side.

“Now!” Robin seized him by the wrist and leaped over the slight ridge at the side of the path. It wasn't as hard a fall as Chrom had thought, thanks to the low slope of scree from a past rockfall. He was glad Robin had grabbed onto him before they jumped, as the rough slide down the rocky incline would have torn them away from each other otherwise.

“Robin!”

“I see it.”

A large stump protruded from the scree, its jagged edges dark against the browns and grays of the stone. Chrom grit his teeth and threw himself to the side, away from his friend, then used that momentum to roll back into Robin and knock them both out of the path of the stump. He let the momentum carry for a moment, tucking Robin up against him and letting his own armor bear most of the brunt of the slide.

And then, the ground was leveling out beneath them, and they were dumped unceremoniously into the soft mud at the edge of a shallow stream. Chrom let out a groan and pushed himself up, squinting down at the little trickle of water at the base of a much wider basin. “I thought you said this was a dry stream bed?”

“Map...old map,” Robin gasped. He hadn't gotten up, and lay curled in the mud with an arm wrapped around his middle.

“Robin?” mud forgotten, Chrom was on his knee beside his friend in an instant. “Are you wounded?”

Robin shakily pulled his hand away to reveal a long, bloody tear in his tunic. “Must've...caught on something. You?”

“A few scratches.” Chrom rocked back on his heels. Up the hill he could see the Risen beginning to climb the ridge they'd jumped over, the monsters' bulk making hampering their movements. Chrom leaned down to tug one of Robin's arms over his shoulders and pull his friend to his feet.

“Leave me,” Robin complained. “You have to...have to get back.”

“No way,” Chrom replied. “I'm not leaving you here to die. You said follow the stream?”

Robin nodded. He'd slipped the Arcthunder tome back into his belt and had his free hand wrapped around his stomach. “They can't...can't attack from the sides. But from behind...”

“Got it.” Chrom hauled them forward, fighting for traction in the mud. The Risen might be faster, but at least they couldn't be flanked. They just had to run and deal with enemy when they caught up. As long as they kept running.

“Now,” Robin gasped, dropping out of Chrom's grasp and pulling his Arcthunder free. Chrom spun to deflect a blow from a Risen that lunged at them from the higher bank. Robin fired a thunderbolt into the next, the magic passing so close to Chrom's body that it raised the hairs on his arms.

“Go!” Chrom hauled Robin to his feet and force his friend ahead of him as they struggled along the stream bed. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and managed to shove Robin down and throw himself back at the same time. The axe that would have parted his arm from his shoulder, or worse, caught in his cape instead and pulled him off balance.

“Elwind!”

Whirring blades of air caught the Risen under its chest plate, lifting it up and away from Chrom.

“You brought three?” he gasped, struggling to his feet, shoving his hands under Robin's arms to pull him up.

“I really like books,” Robin panted. “Look out!”

Chrom glanced over his shoulder to see the Risen behind him rising up, axe in its upraised hands. He threw himself on top of Robin, covering the tactician's body as much as possible.

The blow never landed. Chrom risked a glance up and saw Lon'qu, both feet braced in an unfamiliar stance, the Risen speared on the long blade of his sword.

“You all right?” the swordsman asked.

“There's more,” Chrom gestured to the monsters that had followed them to the stream bed. Overheard, a pegasus gave a battlecry as Cordelia and Sumia dove on the enemy still on the mountainside. Arrows flew from one side, a twist of dark magic from the other as the Shepherds emerged from the surrounding trees to charge the Risen.

“Chrom! Robin! Oh no...Chrom!” Lissa skidded to her knees beside him, mud already staining her yellow skirt. “And Robin...are you...”

“I'm fine,” Chrom assured her with a hand on her arm. “Just a few bruises. Robin needs your care the most.”

“Right! The blood...got it!” his sister, staff in hand, began to focus her healing magic on the wound in Robin's side. “This'll just take a second, Robin.”

“Milord?” Somehow, Frederick had gotten his mare through the tangled brush of the forest in time to catch up with the rest of the Shepherds.

“I'm all right,” Chrom said, accepting Frederick's hand to pull him to his feet. “And you?”

“Minimal injuries. Luckily Sumia spotted you during her aerial reconnaissance, or we might not have arrived in time.”

Chrom nodded solemnly in agreement. His eyes flew to Sumia's trim figure as the pegasus knight spun in the air, spear upraised, deftly dodging a clumsy blow from one of the monsters she was battling.

“Milord?”

With a start, Chrom realized he'd been staring. “Yes, of course. As soon a the Risen are taken care of, we should find a safe place to camp. I think we could all use a good rest after this.”

He turned his back on Frederick, turning instead to Robin who was desperately trying to fend Lissa off as she attempted to “test” that his injuries were healed by finding the ticklish spot under his ribs. “If you figure out how many tomes he's actually carrying, let me know,” he called to his sister. “I've got a bet on eight, but Gaius said it could be as many as fifteen.”

Lissa's giggles bubbled up as the sounds of battle died out around them, nearly drowning out Robin's last mournful protest.

“I just really like books!”

* * *

Based off of Smash Bros where Robin carries at least seven tomes (Fire, Elwind, Nosferatu, Thunder, Elthunder, Arcthunder, and Thoron--plus a Levin Sword!). Maybe he has special book pockets inside his cloak? Maybe they double as armor!

[fallenqueen2]

BatFamily Week 2020 Day 7: Time Travel

Day 7: Nightmares | Time-Travel | Mythology AU

Ao3 Link

Batfamweek2020 Tag

Tags: batfamweek2020, Time Travel, Alfred and Dick visits the past, Dick Grayson as Batman, Damian as Robin, Dick Grayson as Robin, Bruce Wayne as Batman

Created for @official-batfam-week

Alfred blinked as the yellow light faded away, revealing the cave. Normally this wouldn’t be cause alarm, but as Alfred had been out visiting Dick in the penthouse, it was unnerving.

What was more unnerving was the display case that was void of the usual uniforms he had grown accustomed to. Alfred stepped up to the bat computer that looked a few models behind the one he was used to and checked the date.

“Oh bollocks,” Alfred muttered as he took in the date, many years in the past.

“Agent A, status report.” Bruce’s voice crackled from the speakers around Alfred.

“Oh… Master Bruce,” Alfred sank into the chair, hand resting up over his heart as he felt a surge of emotion at the gruff tone.

“I’m afraid something unusual has occurred Master Batman,” Alfred did his best to keep his voice monotone and calm, sitting up straight in the familiar chair with practiced ease.

“You’re here too! I thought the blast had just hit me!” Richard’s adult voice rang through the speakers next and something inside of Alfred’s chest unwound at hearing Dick’s voice.

“We’re heading back so I can get some answers,” Bruce cut in, Alfred had expected nothing less.

“I’m driving B!” Dick cackled and Alfred smiled, he had not heard that laugh in a long time and it warmed his soul.

“I don’t think so,” Bruce retorted, sounding like it was a knee-jerk reply.

“Come on B! I’ve been driving this thing since I was 13!” Dick whined causing Alfred to smile at the old, familiar banter.

“That makes it worse, get in,” Bruce grumbled as the radio cut out, leaving Alfred in silence.

Alfred wandered the cave with his hands clasped behind his back as he took note of what had changed and what had remained the same after all the years.

Alfred must have gotten lost in a mixture of the past and his present as the Batmobile (numerous versions in the past) roared into the platform. Dick gracefully leapt from the passenger seat still clad in his sweatpants and a faded Bludhaven PD sweatshirt. He had a large, if not pained smile on his face as Bruce rose from the driver’s seat. The cape and cowl casting a looming shadow around him, but neither men flinched as they had come to know that shadow meant safety and home.

“Tests, then explanations, right B?” Dick chirped as he gave Alfred a tighter than necessary hug, the butler pleased to return it as he felt relief he had someone to share this experience with.

“My best bet would be time travel that involves some sort of time displacement.” Dick tuned into his detective side as he and Alfred allowed Bruce to run his tests in silence and little to no eye contact. Bruce looked unnerved each time he looked too closely at Dick in particular. Alfred could relate, but he refused to look away from the man he raised, from his son.

“You’ve had experience with this sort of thing then?” Bruce grunted, leaning back going a shade paler when the DNA matches turned up positive for both of them, confirming who they were.

“A couple of times, time travel is more of a Speedster thing. The multi-verse seems to be universal. You haven’t told the League about me, uh little me yet right? All my magical contacts will be of no help in this time period. It looks like we only have two options, one we wait for the spell to run its course and pray we get swapped back. Or we hope someone in our time figures the spell out and reverses it. Both options include waiting it out.” Dick ticked off two fingers as he spoke, swinging his legs like a child from where he was sitting up on an exam table.

Alfred smiled fondly at the sight; glad there was still some light in his eldest Grandson. Bruce meanwhile blinked slowly as he tried to take in not only the words but the actions that no doubt caused him to see the child, Dick Grayson, he knew almost superimposed over this adult version.

“You have that much faith in your allies then?” Bruce shook his head slightly.

“I trust them to stop it nothing to bring us home, they know I’d do the same for them, have done it for them in a heartbeat.” Dick turned serious before he was smiling easily again. Alfred had grown used to Dick’s Batman’s moments, but he could see that the seriousness had thrown Bruce off for a moment.

“In the meantime, I doubt past me will have any qualms about me cooking dinner for us in his kitchen,” Alfred spoke up, knowing Bruce was a minute away from questioning Dick again and not being so passive about it.

“Sounds great Alfie!” Dick launched himself from the table and started up the stairs up towards the manor.

“Remember Master Bruce, no capes in the manor.” Alfred chided gently before following Dick up the steps.

“Hey B, do you think we can watch some Grey Ghost while Alfie makes dinner?” Dick asked quietly, toying with the hem of his shirt when Bruce finally joined them in the kitchen in his pair of sweatpants and hoodie.

“You want to watch that?” Bruce was shocked, he would have thought that Dick would have outgrown wanting to watch old detective shows with him.

“It’s been a while… That’s all right isn’t it B? I mean I get that I’m not really Dick Grayson, will the one you know at least…” Dick trailed off; shedding the cock-sure version of himself he had shown down in the cave. Alfred paid attention to their conversation as he cooked on autopilot; he understood why Dick was acting like a lost child now. Down in the cave that had been business, he had to report to Batman as he had for most of his life. However up in the manor, in their home and Bruce bare-face and relaxed in normal clothes, memories must have bowled Dick over causing him to lose his balance. Alfred could relate and he was never gladder for the routine, ease of cooking.

“Come on chum, I think we can watch a few before Alfred is done with dinner,” Bruce said softly, settling his hand on Dick’s shoulder and Dick’s face lit up and he let out a happy laugh as he and Bruce left the kitchen to head into the living room.

Alfred had never felt so at peace as the sounds of Grey Ghost started up in the background and the soft voices of Bruce and Dick mingled with the sounds. Alfred only wished the other members of their family were there to have this extra time with Bruce, but he hoped that both he and Dick would get some sort of closure when this was all said and done.

Alfred found that cooking was in many ways not only a dance but a battle and he gladly lost himself in that battle as he did his best to prepare his son and grandson’s favourites as this may be the last time he and Dick had a family dinner with Bruce. Finally, the food was prepared and plated, Alfred wiped his hands down as he looked at the food with satisfaction and left the kitchen to tell Bruce and Dick that dinner was ready.

Alfred’s words dried up in his mouth at the sight that greeted him and all he could do was smile fondly and picked up a blanket from the empty chair. Grey Ghost was still playing on the television but no one was awake to watch it at the moment. Bruce had one of his arms laid out over the back of the couch, his other hand tangled in Dick’s hair as if he fell asleep while he had been stroking Dick’s hair. Dick was curled up against Bruce’s side, face peaceful and ear pressed firmly to the older man’s chest as if he fell asleep listening to Bruce’s heartbeat.

They both looked so peaceful that Alfred didn’t have the heart to wake them up for a meal, he carefully draped the blanket around the two and sat on the chair to watch the two sleep, both their slumber peaceful for once and Alfred found himself grateful to whoever hit them with that blast, they had allowed them both this chance to see Bruce again. 

Alfred found himself following the other two to the land of unconsciousness and while Alfred knew in his heart that he would wake back up in his present he couldn’t find it in himself to stay awake, he was content and his heart healed in a way he hadn't ever hoped for so he allowed the darkness to drag him under.

[justanoutlawfic]

The Bet: An Outlaw Queen Ficlet

Summary: A Queen does not go back on a bet. At least not when she has her husband to force her not to.

For day 2 of Inspired by OQ, based on a picture by @EvillyQueenie.

“You have to come out, Regina!”

There was a huff. “You can’t make me.”

“Well, no. But if we don’t show up, then you’ll be known as a woman who goes against her word. Is that what you want?”

“I cursed an entire kingdom. My reputation’s already scratchy at best.”

“Regina.”

 Another loud huff, followed by ruffling. The door to the bathroom opened and his wife emerged, causing Robin to have to stifle a laugh. She would always be beautiful to him, from her raven hair, to the brown eyes that were glaring at him, there was no doubt that Regina Mills was a thing of beauty. Normally, her pantsuits and dresses only accented that.

 On that particular evening however, Regina looked a bit funnier than beautiful and that was the point. It was Halloween and rather than the she had planned on; she donned a Snow White costume. It wasn’t like her former step-daughter, but rather the cartoon version. The skirt was full and yellow, with a blue peasant top that didn’t show off her curves at all. The cap sleeves were perhaps the most ridiculous addition.

 “Not. One. Word.” Regina grunted.

“Oh, come on,” Robin said, pulling her a bit closer to him, though she refused to completely go into his embrace. “You’re not the only one looking ridiculous.”

 While Regina would be the first Disney Princess in history, Robin was dressed as perhaps the most useless prince in the lineup. The blue tunic and pants had been a pain to scrounge up since he wasn’t exactly a fan favorite, though Granny had made the red cape and fluffy hat.

 “Where’s your bow?” Robin questioned, looking at her down curls.

“I am not wearing the bow. I put the dress on, that’s enough.”

“If I’m wearing the damn hat, you have to wear the bow. Wear is it?”

 Regina scoffed, but pointed to the dresser. Robin crossed over and grabbed it, along with her brush. He ran it through her thick hair, grinning as he did. It had been awhile since he had to do a ribbon, having learned it for Marian’s sake.

 “I don’t know why you’re pouting, it’s your fault we have to do this.”

“I thought it was a sure bet!”

 It had all started that fateful night at Aesop’s Tables. Regina and Snow had gone to try to cheer up Emma after Hook left Storybrooke for good, but wound up getting a bit more drunk than expected. It turned into Emma having to babysit the both of them, making sure they didn’t get up to too much trouble. Halfway through the night, Snow got the idea that they would have a darts competition, but Regina would only do it if there was a wager. They landed on whoever lost would have to dress up as their least favorite Disney movie characters for Halloween alongside their spouse.

 Drunk Regina had really underestimated how great Snow was with a bow. All of the Jose Cuervo impaired her from realizing that would mean she’d be just as good with an arrow. Sure enough, Snow ended up winning and even sober, she insisted that a bet was a bet. Regina Mills and Robin Hood would come to Ruby and Dorothy’s Halloween party as the former had drunkenly promised.

 Regina groaned, nearly tilting her head back before Robin redirected her. “I could always kill Snow. Then she wouldn’t know what I was wearing.”

“Please, you’d miss her,” Robin pointed out, as he adjusted it.

“Maybe a little.”

“Maybe a lot.” He finished up the bow. “There you go, the fairest of them all.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “You’re hilarious, Florian.”

Robin wrinkled his nose. “Is that seriously his name?”

“According to Henry it is.” She got up, checking herself out in the mirror. “Ew.”

“It’s one night.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, and this time, she didn’t pull away. “Then later, we can come home and you can take this off….all of it.” He winked.

Regina smiled for the first time all night. “Well, I do like the sound of that.”

He kissed her cheek. “Come on, your majesty. I know it’s sort of your thing to be late, but the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”