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petite-phthora · 11 months

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Oh, he’s stupid.

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 4]

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Part 1

Ao3

---

“THAT CLOWN I PUNCHED WAS THE JOKER?!”

The frenzied question stuns Jason for a moment.

Oh. He realizes. He’s stupid.

...

Fuck, he wants to kiss him so bad.

Slightly incredulous, he manages to get out a question of his own in response.

“Just how many insane clowns do you think we have wandering around Gotham?”

“I don’t know, man! I’ve only been here for less than a week. And it’s Gotham, there’s a new rogue like every other week!”

Jason considers his point for a moment before conceding.

“… You know what? That’s fair.”

Danny slumps in his chair with a groan, his cheeks slightly dusted pink due to embarrassment. He puts his forehead on the table. Slightly worried, Jason speaks up.

“Are you alright?”

“Just peachy. Not even a week in a new city and I already managed to dispose of one of the city’s most infamous rogues, and I wasn’t even aware of it. Ugh, my sister’s gonna kill me. Fully this time.”

Right. Jason’s not gonna touch upon that last statement with a ten-foot pole.

Instead, he suggests “Well, you could try to keep it from her but, knowing how siblings can be, she’ll probably find out anyway. Better rip off the metaphorical band-aid and tell her yourself first so she’ll be less mad about you keeping it from her.”

Danny seems to think it over for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, if I tell her beforehand she might be merciful enough to make it painless.”

Jason lets out a snort. He then considers something before speaking up.

“I could… show you around sometime if you’d like? Explain some standard protocols, show you which places to avoid, which places to visit… So something like this doesn’t happen again…?”

“I’d… like that” Danny days, looking up at him with a small smile.

“So…” Jason decides to switch topics “Tell me some more about yourself, you’re studying aerospace engineering, right?”

Danny decides it’s better not to ask how Red Hood found out all this information about him. If he were in any danger from the other, he probably wouldn’t have gotten flowers or been taken out to dinner anyway.

“Oh, yeah! When I was little I actually wanted to be an astronaut, but due to health reasons, that’s unfortunately not possible anymore. So instead, I decided to combine my mechanical engineering knowledge with my love for space. This way, I might still be able to land a job at NASA.”

Jason ponders over the possibility of sneaking Danny onto the watchtower.

They get interrupted by a waiter approaching their table, nervously asking if they’d like to order dessert.

“Oh, I’ll have some cannoli please!” Danny says.

Ah, a man after his own heart.

---

When they get to the observatory, Jason already notices Danny’s excitement growing the closer they get.

He managed to rent the place out for tonight, not having been in the mood for a tour or something. Besides, if he really wanted to know more about the stars, he’s pretty sure his date Danny’s got that covered for him.

“Over there you can see Ursa Major and Ursa Minor! They’re also known as The Big and Little Dipper, and are some of the easiest constellations to spot, mainly due to their pan shape. Though, the Big Dipper isn't the entire constellation, but actually only a part of Ursa Major, just the tail.”

Danny had started to tell him about the different constellations they should be able to see at this time of the year, using the telescope to navigate towards them and then letting Jason take a look while he tells him all about what they’re looking at.

“Oh! And there’s Hydra! While some parts of the constellation are visible for about half of the year, around this time of year the full constellation should be visible! It is both the largest and longest constellation.”

Danny seems to be practically glowing.

Wait, scratch that. Danny is glowing.

Jason takes a good look at Danny while he’s rambling. Not only does he seem to be emitting a soft glow, but his hair is also slowly starting to float as if he’s underwater. It looks like his meta powers are probably acting up.

Moreover, his freckles, which were very faint before, are now glowing a bright and familiar Lazarus green, which Jason finds mildly concerning. But also… kinda cute…

He tenses a little, keeping a wary eye on Danny, before slowly relaxing as he notices Danny is still excitedly going on about the Hydra constellation.

“Did you know Hydra is also often referred to as The Water Snake? The naming is based on the myth where a crow served Apollo a cup of water with a hydra snake in it. Apollo then caught the crow and was so enraged that he threw the cup and the snake into the sky.”

Yeah, no matter the connection Danny might have to the Lazarus Pits. There’s no need to worry about this fucking nerd, Jason notes with a small hint of fondness.

At the end of their little observatory tour, the glow around Danny starts to dim and his hair stops floating. The glowing of his freckles has also started to disappear, though he is still beaming.

Well, he’d call that a successful first date.

---

After their date, Jason brings Danny back to his apartment on his motorcycle. Once they’ve arrived and Danny is about to leave, Jason blurts something out.

“Oh wait! Before you go…”

Danny looks at him questioningly.

“Can I have your number?” he quickly asks, glad that his helmet is obscuring his reddened face.

He watches the way Danny lights up, his cheeks dusted light pink.

“Ah, uh. Sure!” the space nerd stammers.

Jason takes out a pen that he totally hadn’t taken with him just for this occasion and hands it over. Danny takes the pen and pauses, looking Jason in his Red Hood outfit over, before taking a gentle hold of Jason’s hand.

He glances up at Jason with a questioning glance, asking if he’s okay with this. Jason gives him a nod, that he really hopes doesn’t come over as too eager, in return.

Either way, it seems to be enough for Danny, who then proceeds to move down Jason’s glove a bit and write down his number on Jason’s hand.

Once he’s done, he puts the glove back in place and hands the pen back. Danny’s face is red and he’s grinning. Cute… Jason stays silent, not trusting his voice, and nods in thanks.

“So, I’ll uh see you… next time?” He asks, hope lacing his voice.

Again, Jason just nods in response.

“Great! Cool cool cool. Uh, yeah, uh Toodaloo Kangaroo?” He ends his statement with an awkward grin and finger guns, stumbling when he tries to walk backward.

Fuck me.

He watches as Danny rubs the back of his neck sheepishly before waving him goodbye and turning around, making his way into the apartment complex.

Jason keeps his eyes on Danny as he watches him disappear into the building before tugging off his glove and lowering his gaze to the phone number scrawled on his hand.

He swallows as he realizes that oh, he’s in deep.

#dp x dc #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dead on main ship #jason: *falling harder once he realises that while danny has intelligence he's also kinda stupid*#jason is moronsexual #in dannys defence he had been a little preoccupied by the fact that there was another crazy clown after him #if danny had a nickel for every time an insane clown has tried to kidnap/kill him he'd have two nickels #which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice right?#he also decides to not question how the (former) crime boss got his info #and jason decides to ignore any suspicous or concering shit #he just wants this cute twink as is bf is that too much to ask?#no he doesnt care about the concerning lack of info on danny and his town #he's cute and he got rid of the joker so jason's willing to ignore that shit

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moonshine-nightlight · 2 years

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Nothing’s Wrong with Dale - Part Nine

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 9

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six][Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] Part Nine [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

After discussing Northridge infrastructure and commissioning a few more requests for various surveys and inquiries with the appropriate officials, you’ve moved onto military concerns since the household matters seem well in hand, at least for this estate.

You’ll evaluate the others when you visit them. You’re fairly certain Bilmont is going to send letters to the stewards and housekeepers of those estates to expect perhaps more of a shake up than they might otherwise, but you rather think that’s a fair advance warning.

Martial prowess is generally expected for those of the noble class, but how much ability each member has varies based on birth order and general preference. First-borns are expected to be particularly competent, especially in their youth, with training in a variety of weapons, service to the crown for at least a year, and then lessons in command. Dale has such experience, having trained in Northridge for his younger years, then in the capital where he attained his knighthood, and four years of service to the crown prior to his release from that service. You’ve no idea what he might have done in his years abroad to keep it up—likely contests of skill with his friends and perhaps helping out a local lord or tournament—but you’ve no doubt he has.

While second-borns often get a similarly rigorous education—both in case something unfortunate happens to the oldest and they find themselves in that position and because they are likely to marry a titled heir—the education the other children in a family line receive can be far more varied. Some expect to study academics, some expect to aid their older siblings in managing family estates and matters, some go into trade, others exploration, and of course spiritual orders too. The possibilities are merely dependent on your family, your interests, and who is paying for it all–and how much they are willing to pay.

You’ve never been particularly interested in anything combative, although you took basic courses in castle guard management, fief force management, self-defense, and general military history. You’d always been more interested in wound treatment and supply management rather than the gritty details of battle and fighting.

Luckily Dale, before and now, does have an interest in that. You’re happy to let him lead this discussion, following along well enough, but unable to ask the kind of follow-up questions Dale clearly can. It becomes evident through Bilmont’s answers and the reports that Northridge is adequately staffed, generally with competent leaders managing their forces. Grandfather, traditional in what he thinks a Lord’s primary duty is, actively manages their defense.

“I’m surprised Grandfather manages the militant forces,” you remark offhand. “Rather than Grandmother.”

“Lady Northridge never expected to inherit—she was third in-line,” Steward Bilmont explains. “Her oldest brother and his wife were drawn to battle so their death was seen as a likely loss, but no one expected her older sister and her family to get caught in that shipwreck.”

“Grandfather was second in his family, but his oldest brother had an heir before Grandfather was married, with more on the way, so it was a good match, but unusual in that the consort had more military training than the title holder did.”

In the end, the only substantial comment Dale has is regarding training. “Grandfather has done a good job maintaining our forces, but there are some newer techniques and technologies I know he has not implemented that I believe will help keep us on the forefront of military thinking.”

He stops to write down certain book titles that he’d like Bilmont to order copies of for the family library and you peer over the list to potentially read yourself when they arrive. “Some of those I met while abroad have given me interesting ideas. Some I had been thinking of installing as trainers, but I’m reconsidering a few of them.” He jots down another list of names, those in Northridge he thinks may need to be reevaluated based on the debriefing or reports and then those of potential candidates he has in mind to hire. As he does so, he mutters under his breath, “Why I ever thought that drunkard Wilhelm could be trusted as swordsmaster, I’ve no idea…

You shake your head at that. Dale had wanted to install those loyal to him, those he could use to further his ends, regardless of their actual skills and competencies. Based on the stories from his travels, you gather Wilhelm of Aliers is a good hand with a sword, but more importantly his home fief was famous for its wineries. You wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of ‘potential candidates’ original Dale had wanted to install were chosen for similar reasons.

“My lord,” Bilmont says, hesitant enough you know he doesn’t expect Dale to like whatever he has to say next. “I believe your Grandfather already has replacements in mind for the majority of those who plan to retire.”

“We’ll interview them as well,” Dale waves his hand dismissively. “I am aware many of currently in place seek to retire as he does, but I want to test all trainers and all candidates myself as they are to serve me, going forward.” His eyes dart to your own and he corrects himself, “Going to serve us. And so we shall have the final say.”

“Very well,” Bilmont says backing down, long practiced at knowing when to pick his battles. “Might I suggest you do these interviews with your grandfather present? I believe that will help the process go smoothly, particularly for anyone he already spoke to.”

Dale frowns, clearly not following, but you do. Grandfather must have already promised or as good as promised certain positions to his own choices. That might spread resentment, if they feel cheated or overlooked. Grandfather can help calm any tempers. “That sounds like a good idea.” You give Bilmont a nod of acknowledgment to show you understand what he means and he seems to grow a smidge less tense.

“Perhaps we should meet with Grandfather ourselves ahead of time as well,” you say, turning to Dale. “He will have greater insight into those we already employ and has likely had to conduct such evaluations before. His experience would be helpful.” And hopefully you’ll be able to soothe any of his own wounded pride if Dale essentially overrides any decisions he’s already made.

Dale stares at you without blinking, clearly assessing your words and you try not to squirm. At some point though, you stop feeling the need to, lost in his eyes. It’s like looking down into a deep well, knowing there’s water as well as darkness at the bottom, but sure any movement you might attribute to the former is just your own eyes playing tricks on you. He releases you with a blink. You come back to yourself, taking a deep breath and wondering if it truly was deep or if you simply hadn’t been breathing while preoccupied by the darkness in his eyes, the sharp blue to his irises, his delicate eyelashes…

“Yes,” Dale’s voice shakes you from your still wandering thoughts. “A good idea, my lady. I wonder when would be best to—”

Dale’s wondering is interrupted by a knock on the door, which swiftly opens to reveal the man himself. Grandfather’s gaze is searching until it lands on Dale at which point he brightens. “Dale! There you are. The last of our early bird guests were able to make it today after all—Heath was able to board a faster ship and Francois stayed behind so Jeanne made great time.”

You frown, trying to remember what people are coming so early for. As far as you can remember, the tournament is the first wedding festivity and that doesn’t start for another five to seven days.

Dale grins at his grandfather reflexively, but he also looks confused as grandfather goes on. “What’s happening? My head is still trapped in these reports. We’ve been going over all the council rosters and committees in preparation for my taking over as Lord. Steward Bilmont has been a great boon in helping us get our arms around it all before we start pestering you and Grandmother for greater detail. We’ve drawn up a schedule and started sending out missives so we can…”

Grandfather stares incredulously at Dale until even he recognizes the cue for what it is and trails off. You suppose he was never particularly interested in paperwork before. You hope Grandfather thinks his greater interest is due to him finally inheriting and nothing more.

“It’s time for the hunt, of course,” Grandfather says, a mix of triumph and judgment in his voice as he reminds Dale of what should be obvious.

“Oh, yes,” recognition blooms in Dale’s eyes and your own. Ceremonial hunts among the nobility were common and traditional before both a tournament and a wedding. Usually only one betrothed went on the hunt—or there were two hunts—and various close friends and family who were to come to the wedding arrived a little earlier than most to join them. It’s a remnant from an even older time, more even than the tournaments, which were to show a noble family’s martial prowess, to the very basics of simply putting food on the table. “The hunt.”

“Yes, I’ve already had your valet finish packing your things,” Grandfather says. He smiles at you when he says, “Sorry to pull your fiance away from this riveting paperwork.” He even adds a wink.

You smile, inwardly glad you didn’t have to partake in the hunt. You can set traps and that’s about it. Bows required a greater degree of upper arm strength you simply didn’t have, same for spears. You know the basics on how to hold a human or wild animal at bay with one, but that’s all. The rest you know is all close combat self-defense, focused on using vulnerable spots to your advantage so you can get away. You’re perfectly content with that being the extent of your physical offensive capabilities.

Violence has never appealed to you and if you needed to rid yourself of an unsavory person, well, you are quite versed in herblore. You are by no means an expert though, mistakes are so easy to make. You’d refreshed your memory of such things after meeting the original Dale, in case he ended up far less tolerable than he appeared. Even this Dale, you’re well aware of his allergy should his attitude prove more illusory than you hope.

Preparing contingencies always made you feel better, particularly since you knew you’d lose in a physical fight. You simply had to ensure you never ended up in one.

“Of course, I would never begrudge him his entertainments,” you say to Grandfather. It is nice, getting to know him and Grandmother,starting to feel like you fit with them and their interactions. Each day you feel like you know them a bit better, are able to read their moods and personalities more reliably. It’s a comforting feeling: settling in. “Or you.”

“And we thank you, my dear,” he replies. “It’s shaping up to be a good hunt—we’ve reports of stags in the north and only one bear sighting. There might be the usual boar complications, but that’s never bothered us, eh Dale?”

Dale looks back at Grandfather, his eyes having strayed back to the report in hand, but the grin he gives him is sharp enough so he must still be paying attention. “I’ve never minded a boar hunt, although a stag hunt’s focus on the chase is not to be undervalued.”

“Precisely,” Grandfather agrees. “It's been too long since I’ve been on one of considerable size and even longer since I’ve hosted. It is shaping up to be a marvelous one.”

“Yes, I suppose it is too late to cancel,” Dale says with some reluctance as he straightens from the note he was jotting down. As he passes it over to Bilmont, he gives a slight sigh. You too are disappointed in having to cut your discussion short, but it's no real hardship. You can pick back up where you left off when he returns in a few days and while it's nice to try to order things before the wedding, the truth is that there’s too much going on to make much headway. Once all the festivities pass, there will be more time and less interruptions.

“Cancel. What sort of a joke is that?” Grandfather replies flatly. You look up to see him blinking at Dale in confusion. Fear drips down your spine at the change in his demeanor, at the hint of accusation mixed in with the confusion as he says, “You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“There’s simply so much to get started with,” Dales says, an eager grin on his face. “Just now we were discussing the roads and the councils–training and appointments we want to discuss with you.”

Grandfather though, just stares at him, brow furrowing in confusion and defensiveness. “You speak as though Northridge is in dire need of attention. As if your Grandmother and I have been sitting on our laurels letting it go to seed.”

You flinch at the accusation and Dale at least needs no warning to see how his comments could have been misconstrued. “Oh! Of course not,” Dale says, face falling. “That’s not what I meant at all. My apologies, I am simply looking forward to this next part of my life and am eager to apply what I’ve learned to my home.”

The offense drops from Grandfather’s face, but something that worries you more takes its place: suspicion. You are suddenly aware that Grandfather has always been less oblivious to who Dale was, regardless of his opinion on what were flaws and what were not, and therefore may notice how uncharacteristic it is even just for Dale to apologize. This combined with his reluctance for the hunt, appears to be making Grandfather question things you hoped he won’t.

“There’s so much I need to learn,” you say, hoping your voice is a sufficient mix of modest and hopeful. “Lessons in school rooms are simply not the same and since Dale has been away from home, there’s plenty for us to catch up on.”

Grandfather’s eyes are unusually sharp on your face, but he nods at your explanation—after all, it's a true one, if not complete.

“Yes,” Dale says, following your lead easily—you’re not even sure if he’s doing it on purpose. “I find myself wishing I had attended to more meetings and such before I left as you and Grandmother often bid me.”

Grandfather looks mollified by Dale’s addition to an extent, but he still looks far too intent for your liking as he surveys the pair of you. “Of course.” He strides over to Dale and claps a hand on his shoulder. “I’m pleased you are keen to begin taking up your responsibilities, Dale. However, there is no need to neglect the festivities as well. This is a time for celebration in addition to duty. You’ll quickly find that duty will always remain, waiting with more for you to handle. The hunt however is now and if we have any hope to make the most of our time, we must leave sooner rather than later.”

Grandfather keeps his eyes on Dale’s face and no doubt sees the slight reluctance on it. The first Dale would never be so slow to leave this stuffy room with its paperwork behind, let alone for a hunt in his honor.

You are trying to think of the right way to prompt him before anymore seconds go by, when his eyes dart to your own. You seize the opportunity to say, “You should go, enjoy yourself. All of this will be here when you return.” You give him what you hope to be an encouraging nod. “You were just yesterday discussing how you felt as though you’d not had enough practical opportunities to ensure your hunting skills remained sharp.” That is even true, although you expect he meant that he hadn’t had a chance to go hunting since he became Dale rather than since Dale returned from abroad.

His mood seems to shift easily with your words added to Grandfather’s and he regains his enthusiasm from the hunt. “Yes, I had. You’re quite right,” he says, turning from you to Grandfather with a grin. “I haven’t a chance to use the spear I picked up in Anjou yet. Perhaps I can even get some more practice in with the Khinat bow we all took up while there.”

You relax as he talks until your eyes leave his to find Grandfather staring at you. It takes all your practice at hiding your anxiety not to react beyond a small stiffening in your spine. Had Grandfather noticed that Dale had looked to you for how he should react? Has he noticed how very, very odd it is that Dale should look to anyone for advice, let alone you, when he was always too headstrong and self-possessed? That he had needed your encouragement?

“Has everyone else arrived?” Dale asks, not seeming to notice the odd tension in Grandfather’s shoulders. “Last I heard, Uncle Wellington was still claiming he’d need another two days before he’d be joining us.”

Grandfather’s eyes leave yours to reply, “Yes, Welly got here an hour or so ago, with his hounds in tow.”

“Wonderful,” Dale says with feeling. “I must continue my quest to persuade him to let me keep one of his magnificent hunters.”

Grandfather seems to relax even further at that proclamation, chuckling and squeezing Dale’s shoulder. “You know how he is with those dogs, I think he vets anyone he gives one to more than he did his childrens’ spouses. No reason to give up hope though, perhaps this will be the year.”

Grandfather heads for the door and Dale follows, pausing to remind Bilmont to send certain papers to his room per your earlier conversation. He also pauses at your chair. “You’ll have to let me know if you decide anything while I’m away, yes?”

You smile, blushing slightly from the way he bends his head so close to your own. “Of course, though I doubt we’ll make any concrete plans until you’ve returned. I’ll have a write-up left in your study.”

You knew he was going on this hunt, but since some people were joining from out of Northridge, it hadn’t been clear when they would be going. Now, you feel some concern for Dale, a pang of nerves at how he might fare or behave alone with the others. It’s likely just because Grandfather seemed to notice something just now, but you feel a strange sense of foreboding.

Still, you certainly can’t say so—nevermind who else is still in the room—but you are always nervous about many things, most of which turn out to be nothing. You reach for something concrete to focus your attention and worry on. “Do you have enough tea and medicine to last you on your hunt?”

Dale’s eyes glint in response, his smile softer than his more typical grin these days. “Thank you, sana, but I have all I need—Mr. Murray,” his valet, “knew what was to be packed for this trip and I left explicit instructions for those which you’ve prescribed to be brought.”

“Of course,” you murmur, shy in the face of his gratitude and respect, neither of which you fully feel you’ve earned. It does remind you that not only is there the hunt, but after is the tournament—perhaps you should prepare some extra recipes, just in case. You’re sure the new doctor, along with any other physicians brought by guests, will be more than adequate. It couldn’t hurt though. You search for words that will move the conversation forward. “Have an enjoyable trip,” you settle on, looking back up at him from underneath your lashes.

That softer smile is still on his face as he nods. “We shall return with a most magnificent prize, I am sure.” He picks up your hand, the one resting on the arm rest and presses a whisper of kiss to the back of it, his lips soft, before releasing you to walk over to where Grandfather waits by the door.

Your eyes drift past Dale to find Grandfather staring at you contemplatively, his brow furrowed once more, and fight the urge to freeze. Dale is more affectionate than he had been before, but nothing he’d done was beyond what was within the bounds for a betrothed to do. Surely any growing familiarity can merely be blamed on seeing more of each, rather than a fundamental shift in Dale’s personality, right?

Grandfather’s expression smooths out once he sees you noticing to be replaced with a perfectly polite smile. “I shall return him to you safe and sound, my Lady,” is all he says. “Have no fear.”

You return his smile and will yourself to believe that it is only your overactive anxiety gnawing at you—nothing more. “I thank you.”

[Part Ten]

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