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greatprotector-if · 2 years

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High School AU Galen Drabble

Word Count: 1197

mc: hey i got detention so you can walk home without me today lol

galen: What? Why?

mc: something dumb

mc: see you tomorrow!!

“Good to see you,” the teacher greets you dryly from their desk.

“Hi.” You slink over to your spot, resisting the urge to sigh. Or cry. Or scream. Or all of the above.

Other than the teacher at the front of the room, you’re the only one here. Great! You’re the only one foolish enough to get caught and sent to detention. Awesome!

You sigh through your nose, and fish your homework out of your bag. You have nothing else to do.

And then the door opens, and they’re impossible to miss because they’re over six foot—Galen walks through the door. Their gaze barely passes over the teacher before they’re marching right over to the desk next to you and squeezing themself in a chair.

“Wha—” You lean over and hiss, “Galen?”

They clear their throat, drumming their fingers along the top of their thigh. They’re facing the front, but they give you a curt nod in acknowledgement. “I got detention,” they whisper.

What.

“No you did not.”

They let out a short huff. “No I did not.”

“Then you’re not supposed to be here? What are you—” You glance up at the teacher, who’s staring at Galen with a perplexed look on their face.

“You’re not in any of my classes,” the teacher states.

“I’m not,” Galen agrees, face as stoic as ever.

The teacher hardly mulls this over before they simply shrug and return to their paperwork. “Alright. Just don’t be disruptive or I’ll kick you out.”

“Okay.”

And then that’s the end of that.

The room dips into relative silence as you grab the rest of your supplies from your back and dump what you need on your desk. All Galen takes out is a new pencil and single math worksheet that looks like it’s already been completed. Not that you mind the company—but why the hell are they here?

As if they can sense that you’re thinking about them, Galen quietly side eyes you for a few moments before asking, “You, uh. You okay?”

You blink. “Huh? I’m fine. You didn’t come all this way just to check on me, did you?”

They cross their thick arms over their chest, prodding a bump in their cheek with their tongue. You can’t tell if it’s just the poor lighting or if their cheeks are getting darker. Finally, they mutter, “You weren’t answering my texts.”

A smile crawls onto your face. That is adorable. “Sorry. I had to put it away or the teacher would have taken it.”

“I even used an emoji to try to get your attention.”

You perk up at that. “As in… not the thumbs up or OK emoji?” you ask.

“The sad face, with the really deep frown.”

“No way,” you gasp. You’re not going to lie, you’re kind of flattered that they would do that for you. You love Galen and all, but they’re such a dry texter they could start a wildfire with a single spark of heat. You press your hand to your chest. “You would do that for me?”

They clear their throat and pointedly look away from you. Yeah, they’re definitely blushing.

“Send me the laughing crying emoji next,” you say, taking pity on them.

They roll their eyes. Their lower lashes are so dark. “Over my dead body.”

You hear some shuffling from the corner and you look over to see the teacher leave their desk and slip out the door, closing it behind them.

You could totally just leave right now, you think. But you don’t, you keep your ass rooted to your chair.

“So…” Galen drawls, now that they have the opportunity. “What did you even do?”

You squint at them. “I don’t want a lecture,” you warn.

They raise a brow. “I’m not going to yell at you for getting detention. I’m your friend, not your parent.”

“Sometimes you act like my parent.”

They just shrug. You don’t know how you’re supposed to interpret that reaction.

“Saw my teacher while I was skipping class, then I wiped out while I was trying to make my getaway. Teacher caught up to me and said if I didn’t come to detention they’d give me a zero,” you explain mournfully, showing them the scratches on your palm. “Now my hand’s all messed up.”

They stare at you with what could only be described as disbelief in their eyes. “You tripped?” And then they begin to do a very poor job of stifling their laughter into the back of their hand. “You got caught—because you tripped?”

“Don’t laugh at me!” you complain. “It hurts!”

They bury their entire face into their hands to contain themself, broad shoulders trembling with the effort.

“Okay,” they croak out after many moments. “Okay. I’m sorry.” They drop their hands from their face, lips pressed firmly together, and hold one out to you instead. “Give me your hand.”

You don’t even think about it—just automatically place your hand on theirs, and they flip your hand face up. Their skin is very warm.

Galen gives you a slightly puzzled look. “... No, the other one.”

Oh. Oops. You give them your other hand, still feeling a little raw from the pavement.

You can’t help but feel your cheeks start to warm at the proximity. They peer down at the injury, probably assessing the damage.

… And they’re clearly fighting off a smile.

“Oh my god,” you say, battling a grin of your own, “You’re such a dick. Everyone trips at some point in their life, Galen.”

They tilt their head to face the heavens, and take a deep, shuddering breath.

You can’t believe them. All this because of that stupid crack in the ground?

“Are you good now?” you say wryly.

It takes a second, but they bob their head in a nod, clearing their expression of any lingering amusement. They stick their hand in one of the side pockets of their backpack. “Does it hurt?” they ask.

“Almost cried,” you answer solemnly.

The corner of their mouth twitches, and then they’re fishing out the cutest bandaid you’ve ever seen.

“... Is that Squirtle?” you ask.

They ignore you in favour of smoothing the blue bandaid out over the curve of your hand, but it is definitely Squirtle. You wonder if they’ll give you some of those.

They’re about to pull away when you tease, “Hold on. Aren’t you going to give it a kiss?”

Their eyes dart up to meet yours, grip on your hand going slack. “You—do you want me to?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You didn’t expect them to take it seriously, oh god, what are you even supposed to say—

“I was just—I mean, I didn’t… you can, if you want to—”

The sound of the doorknob turning has the both of you jumping out of your skin.

They drop your hand like a pile of burning coals and you both jerk forward to face the front of the room.

The teacher does not spare either of you a single glance as they sit back down at their desk, and your heartrate does not completely calm down until long after detention is over.

#i forgot to post this earlier lol #galen #the great protector if #drabble #i did not edit this please excuse errors with grammar/spelling/etc #i love high school aus because they're so awkward and embarrassing #this is galen if they had a normal-ish childhood #but they did not have that in canon #you will never see them laugh this much again #these tags are all over the place #anyways if there are any detention related inaccuracies i'm very sorry #my high school didn't have detentions

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hailsatanacab · 6 months

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Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."