Wonder MOM ( part 1 )
Happenings/mentions of:
Child abuse, possible trafficking, kidnapping and blood!
Nothing is explicit.
.・゜-: ✧ :-
Someone was in that cage.
Controlled anger aside, Batman made sure his footsteps were to be heard, speaking slow and calm as he approached and slid off the cloth.
"Everything will be okay now, are you–?"
With the cloth aside, Batman got a good look at the unconscious person inside.
He knows that face.
Thats—!!
"B! B, can you hear me?" Oracle calls, considering no one else seems to talk, he assumes Barbara put them into a private line.
"I'm here, Oracle." He answers easily, hands gripping the lock and fishing out the familiar pick-locking equipment.
"You went silent for a moment there, B, we got worried."
He gives a grunt at that, ripping the cage bars open and carefully checking for a pulse.
It's there, barely.
"Oracle, call Agent a to prepare, I'm bringing someone over."
"Got it. B, be careful, please."
Bringing the teen, the same age as his youngest, out of the cage seemed a bit harder than thought.
With some manoeuvring and carefully placed feet, the big Bat brings them both out in one swoop, tight on his hold.
His head rolls to the side, groggily blinking awake and peering up to Batman.
"Batsy?"
"Sleep, I'm getting you out of here."
"...knew you'd find me." Messy black hair hides the way he squishes his own face into Batman's side.
"Mom's probably very worried..." he gives an awkward laugh, throat dry and burning with the move.
The movement and warmth lulled him into sleep quite easily.
(Batman's expression, even if stony and blank, covered in a dark veil, anyone can see the carefully hidden layer of fury.)
—
Patrol was cut short that night, the boy in Alfred's care, and Bruce didn't hesitate calling Diana immediately after.
"Hello—"
"I found him."
Diana, Wonder Woman, remained silent upon the response, a quite inhale echoing through the call.
"They brought him all the way to Gotham?"
The man nods despite knowing Diana wouldn't see, giving a verbal answer after.
"I have a report of all injuries he has been subjected to. I'll send you the list."
There is a moment of silence before a sharp hiss from Diana comes through.
"They took his blood–?!"
"Not much from what Alfred gathered, but enough to get a running supply for their... plans."
"I'm coming over. Bruce, you and I both know the dangers of his blood in the wrong hands."
"Let's discuss this once you're here, Diana. Safe travels."
With a click and the call ended.
One look, and he has the eyes of most birds and bats on him already.
"The boy. You know him." Damian steps forward, arms crossed and cape off. The others must have come back not long ago and eavesdropped on his conversation.
"I do."
(The fact he doesn't elaborate nor does anyone either speak up is quite hilarious, wasn't it for the situation.)
The silence goes on, eyes sweeping over Stephanie's furrowed, thoughtful expression, Tim's calculating gaze, cass's curious yet open body language, duck's suspicious raised eyebrow and Damian's 'I dare you' scowl.
At least they didn't wake duke with their commotion.
"What's going on?" Jinxed, Duke himself comes down the stairs in his sleeping clothes, yawning.
"Duke, you're supposed to sleep."
"Sorry, sorry, apparently family drama is happening, and they needed more support." He jerks his hand towards the gaggle of vigilante children(1)/teens/one adult that is only an adult because of age laws.
Bruce suppresses a sigh.
There's a giggle to the side which gathers the attention of everyone.
Around the same height of damian, slightly thinner, is the teen B rescued not long ago. And who should not be awake either.
Alfred gives a smile, arm out stretched to support him on his way to the batclan, eyening his form with tapt attention.
"Batsy!" Ignoring the snorts and coos, Bruce nods back.
"Danny." The kid grins broadly, approaching.
He gives a wave to the other, attention solely on Bruce however.
"Is my mom coming?"
"Yes, she is on her way."
"Wonderful!"
He claps, arms bandaged to his throat, sickly pale and absolutely looking like prime adoption bait.
Cass approaches, hands ready to sign the most wnated question of everyone in the room and Bruce is already feeling the words of denial at the tip of his tongue.
'New br—'
"No."
Cass isn't backing down, expression only getting more determined.
'Honorary brother?'
He doesn't stop the sigh escaping, especially when Danny jumps up at the words with glee.
"Yes! Honorary!"
She seems very pleased with that, holding her hand out for a silent request, qnd once approved, gave a nice headpat.
"I'm actually surprised you didn't tell your kids of me, batsy." Danny side eyes the man, grinning mischievous.
"It slipped my mind."
(No, he doesn't break under the gaze of every person's disbelief stare directed at him. He stronger than that.)
(B did avoid meeting anyone's eyes tho.)
"Wait, so who is the moth—"
A green portal opens in the middle of the cave, and it has the most tense and drawing weapons.
Wonder woman stepped through.
"That answers my question then."
"Mom!"
Diana swooped him up, holding him closer and ducking her head into his black hair.
The Lady peers up at Bruce with a smile. "Thank you."
Her attention shifts to the child. "Frostbite will be expecting us, are you doing good enough to walk or should I–"
"I'm okay! I can walk!" Danny puffs his chest to prove it, giving her a reassuring smile.
Diana's brows knit together in worry. "Very well." She accepts, reluctant. She leads him to the still open veil of green, nodding towards pennyworth and both bid their goodbyes.
For now that is.
The portal closes.
"So, how were we originally supposed to know about Diana having a son??"
"HIS MOM IS WONDER WOMAN????"
"I'm so glad this isn't another adoptive brother. Honorary is good enough."
"HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM US, B!!!"
"Does that mean we have a miniature Trinity of the originals?"
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A moment of curiosity: Dottore. (male!reader) (also, not very serious of a fic.)
"So, you're basically saying that you killed a previous lover?" You ask him, furrowing your eyebrows. You weren't as scared as you were amazed. Intrigued, perhaps? I mean, not only did he manage to make a woman fall in love with him whlist his reputation was below the rocks— he also took her out on a date and killed her. And on top of that, he made it look like wild animals committed all those unspeakable crimes to her.
Dottore simply looks at you, his head cocked to the side, his lip curled as if he was two steps away from inviting you in his bed. "It is wonderful, is it not? I must admit, it was not one of my easiest feats back in the day, nor one of the most... rational ones, however, the reactions I recieved— nay, the situation received— were quite the satisfactory ones."
"So what you're telling me is that you were an impulsive, little attention seeker?"
"That's not quite what i–" Dottore stopped mid sentence, suddenly the correspondence of your words hitting him like a bunch of bricks that were caught up in a hurricane.
"This is not– there is no need to dwell on my past acts, my darling boy. They are not relevant to the current me in any shape, way, or form." He cleared his throat. "And she wasn't my lover, moreso just someone who happened to experience college crushes through my image."
With that, you sat on his lap, as you often did. "Would you have killed me, too, if I was in her place?" You were unserious in that matter, obviously, though Dottore seemed to take your question in the unintended sense.
"Entirely depends on how you'd have been in her place. If you were to simply act like her, with the only difference being your appearance; then I'm afraid the outcome would have been no different. However, if you were one who crushed on me in my days at the Akademiya, and you approached said crush as you did in our actual past, I'm certain that we'd have ended up in a similar position as we are now"
Does this man ever take breaths as speaks?
"Besides, my little prince, how would it be possible that you took her place, in order for that to—..."
Perhaps you should have never asked. Unfortunately for you, and for any passing by his office, he would not stop yapping about the scientific possibilities of the scenario you suggested.
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There's a lot of validity in the idea that older Bakugo is a traumatized pro-hero with major PTSD... but you know what's kinda fucked up to think about? The fact that Bakugo is also a 22-year-old pro-hero with major PTSD even before that, too.
It's almost easy to imagine that things are actually better when he's older (the therapy finally a routine, the trauma long set and on the path to being healed)... and that it's his whole 20s that are spent as a pool of disaster trying to recover from the war(s).
He looks back and barely even remembers being twenty, much less twenty-five or twenty-seven. Barely remembers how little he slept, not at the hands of trying to balance hero work and getting a degree at the same time, but just out of the pure insomnia that came from trying to move on and every nightmare attached.
Hardly ever showering, never shaving (not that he ever grew much of a beard, but the facial hair was definitely there. There's pictures of him on the news with an awkward, grown out haircut and patches on facial hair that make him look positively... immature), barely even eating more than a few protein bars or an energy jelly drink-a day. It's a blur, and his friends are hardly there to pick him up out of it because they're all going through it, too. Somewhat.
It's definitely weird if you meet him during this period. He's not all there, at least, not all of the time. He doesn't really register your interactions, the friendship you extend to him (a younger, or ever older, version of him would've shown you that deep seeded ferocity in response, tried to bite the hand that fed him, even if it were love... but 20s Bakugo... doesn't seem to notice). Even though only one of his eyes is clouded over, the good one never seems to brighten up.
There's definitely moments when the old him shines through: when he's with Deku, when he's in the midst of battle, when he finds out that Todoroki still does a shitty job at chopping scallions. But it's a long time before he's even close to the same, able to step out from underneath the fog of simply surviving and into the sunshine of recovering.
But I think sticking through it with him is worth it.
(It's a weird moment, a happy moment, the first time you realize that Bakugo has changed. That the pouring rain outside hasn't bothered him since he showed up at your apartment. He forgot his umbrella, he's been quite careless ever since the war—wet and shaggy hair frizzed up, cheeks red from cold—but he doesn't seem to mind, with his bare feet up on your coffee table, his eyes gazing out the window. You hand his tea, and instead of gulping it down in one go, letting it burn in his throat, he winces at the heat.
"Tastes like shit," he says, and you laugh because it always does. Just this time, he noticed.)
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