#reminder that dick canonically wanted damian to stay with him after bruce came back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

danny-chase · 3 years

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Delirium - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Titans (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Lian Harper, Lian Harper & Dick Grayson, Lian Harper & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Tim Drake & Roy Harper Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Lian Harper Additional Tags: Hopsitals, delirious, Anxiety, Panic, POV Tim Drake, Canon Divergence, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Tim Drake is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Batman, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Damian Wayne is Robin, Lian never died, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson gets a forehead kiss, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Caring Batfamily (DCU), fluff at the end, Teen Titans as Family, Tim Drake emotional whump, Damian Wayne emotional whump, Lian Harper is a ray of stubborn sunshine on a cloudy day, gunshot wound, Head Wound, Coloring Books Series: Part 4 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Tim has to be the oldest for like five minutes and decides he doesn't like it (but does a good job anyways).

Full story under cut

“Alvin? Alvin… Draper?” A nurse called from across the room. Tim pulled his head out of his hands, careful not to jostle his fake moustache. “This way please.” She intoned, waving a hand towards a bustling hallway.

Damian nearly leapt out of the stiff plastic chair, and he slowly followed suit, trying to act causal. He doubted he was fooling anyone; his legs shook as he walked forward, and he was pretty sure he left a ring of butt sweat on his seat. Taking deep breaths to calm his fraying nerves, he concentrated on taking steady steps forward – he didn’t care much for Damian, but there was no way he’d let a child go through this sort of thing alone. Especially one who probably had never visited someone in the hospital (let alone been in one) before.

He’d gotten a panicked call from Barbara a few days ago. Gotham in ruins, streets in chaos… the usual. Bruce was gone. He couldn’t miraculously pull them out of these things anymore. The first Batman was dead, and this time… they could lose the second.

“Report.” Damian demanded, his harsh tone penetrating Tim’s thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the chaos of the hallway, of people jostling them as they rushed by, a cacophony of machines squealing and loud voices, and bright lights illuminating tacky flooring. He’d fallen a pace behind and quickened his step to stand firmly next to his… little brother.

As much he’d tried to deny it, at the end of the day, that’s what bound them. Fealty to a dead man, he’d once hoped they could be something more – but this family was ripping apart at the seams and Tim had to wonder what even kept them all here anymore.

Though – that wasn’t hard to figure out.

Dick was in trouble, and he came running. He’d been in trouble and Dick had come running. They were brothers in every sense of the word, without Bruce tying them together. His stomach clenched at the thought that it might all be lost to him forever, and he swallowed the bile burning at the top of his throat.

Dick had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world – when you talked to him, he listened, gave advice, and would drop anything to help. He quickly crawled his way into your life, cementing you as family. Things were never perfect, and they’d had their fights, but Dick always bent first, forgiveness freely given rather than earned. Tim had needed that. And from what little time they’d spent together, he knew Damian did too.

Panic. That was the only way to describe how he felt. He couldn’t be that for Damian – he couldn’t be Dick. He let out a shaky breath – Dick had to be fine – he couldn’t – not after Bruce – he couldn’t do this again – he was on the verge of shattering after finally picking up all the broken pieces of himself and –

“I said, report.” Damian squeaked. He jolted back into reality, steading his breath, and replaying the last few minutes, his mind trying to catch up.

The nurse seemed unamused, her nostrils flaring and brow tight as she glanced back. “Sorry, my brother’s a little uhh… stressed…?” He stammered, not wanting to offend Damian – or worse, start an argument in a crowded hallway. But he didn’t flinch at the comment, a testament to the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in.

Dick was shot in the back of the head, and Tim honestly had no idea if they’d gotten him medical attention in time. He could be comatose for the rest of his life, would never breathe on his own, never talk to them again, never walk, never think, never… god… he’d never talk to Dick again, and it was all his fault for being too late, too unprepared, too much of a failure to-

“The operation went well, we need to keep him for observation, but we’re hopeful he’ll make a full recovery in a month or two.” Tim blinked back tears as a weight lift off his shoulders, bringing a hand up, covering his eyes for just a second. He looked up to find Damian frozen; too stunned to move. He gently placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging him along so he wouldn’t be swept up in the tide. Surprisingly, that much was allowed today, the child’s thoughts were elsewhere, so Tim focused his thoughts on him.

Damian was only ten. And he’d almost lost Dick to a fate worse than death, after seeing him shot before his eyes, helpless to stop it. They didn’t have hospitals in the League, it was kill or be killed, and then there were the pits. Had he ever watched someone recover naturally?

“He’ll be okay.” Tim hissed, in a tone that only Damian could hear. Damian startled back into the present, glaring at him briefly, shaking off Tim’s hand, and storming after the nurse. He kept his expression carefully out of view.

They turned into a private hospital room, pulling the door shut behind her, and winked. “Timothy Drake-Wayne and Damian Wayne, I presume.”

He could feel the kid freeze beside him, his own heart threatening to escape his throat.

“Oh, sorry - don’t panic, I’m with STAR Labs, we’ve worked with Richard and his team for years.” Damian huffed in annoyance. “Your identities aren’t compromised; Oracle made the arrangements for our team to take over when he arrived.” She passed her clipboard to Tim. “The walls are soundproof, you can stay as long as you want, I trust you can get out on your own, and it’s not like I’m going to stop you if you decide to stay longer than I recommend.” She sighed. “Just, don’t distress the patient, he’ll be confused when he wakes up, it’s normal. Call if you need, our monitoring systems are top notch, we’ll be watching – but not listening of course.”

And with that, the nurse turned on her heel, exiting as fast as she’d arrived, leaving Tim opened mouthed next to a wide-eyed Damian.

He watched as the door slowly turned on its hinges, picking up speed until it slammed shut. Almost immediately it popped back open. “If he tries to get up, don’t let him escape.” She rolled her eyes. “You human patients are always the worst.” And with that, she was gone. A few awkward, silent moments passed.

“Are you coming, Drake?” Damian’s voice had lost its normal edge, as he determinedly stared at the windows. He couldn’t see Dick from where they stood, but he could make out the edge of the bed, a pure white sheet neatly tucked under the edge.

He shifted, hesitantly - he always hated this part. But regardless, he took the lead, striding forward, and allowing Damian the comfort of walking in someone’s shadow. Because even if he wouldn’t say it, there was no way the kid wanted to do this alone. He couldn’t replace Dick – was thankful he didn’t have to, but this – this was the least he could do.

Hospital beds have this way of making the people inside them seem smaller. Tim braced himself as he stepped into view, and well, it could be worse. Dick was out cold, drooling on his pillow still hooked up to a few monitors, which steadily droned and beeped in the background. A lump of gauze and bandages swathed the base of his skull.

Damian flitted past his side to sit in the chair next to the bed, and Tim sprang into action, taking the chair next to the window. He flipped through the charts without really reading anything, and the two sat in stony silence. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts before shoving it back in his pocket.

He spared a glance at Damian - he was curled up in the chair, grimacing and staring at the wall. He didn’t dare try saying anything more, lest they start fighting in Dick’s hospital room. He contented himself with staring out the window, watching the dawn break, violets and purples dancing across the sky. The sun rose with pinks and oranges blossoming soon after.

Things would be okay. They had to be okay. He slowed his breathing, focusing on the sky rather than the scent of disinfectant. The steady beep of machines slowly fading into the distance. Closing his eyes, he could pretend for a moment, that this was normal. He was in a hotel, maybe on a vacation, in some city that wasn’t destroyed every few months. There had to be a place like that still out there.

A little chickadee hopped around on the windowsill, fluttering back and forth, before flying off again. “Bye.” Tim snapped to attention, whirling around to find Dick squinting out the window. Damian sprung out of his chair. “Bruce?” He asked confusedly, frowning at Damian.

Panic flickered across the kid’s face, and he recoiled, stepping back. “No. I’m Damian, don’t be foolish.” His voice wobbled at the end, and Tim’s heart throbbed painfully at the way Damian stiffened, meticulously shutting off any signs of vulnerability.

“Remember what the nurse said, he’s going to be confused for a bit.” Tim reminded, striding over to sit at the edge of the bed. Dick went back to looking at the now closed window. “Dick, you with us?” He leaned into Dick’s line of sight, trying for a smile, and waited for a minute before leaning back. “I’m going to take that as a no.”

“-tt-” Damian stepped forwards again. “Don’t bother him, Drake.” He spat.

Tim didn’t really know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. Damian climbed back into his chair, tucking his legs up to sit crisscrossed, his back stiff and upright. Tim grabbed his chair, pulling it closer to the edge of the bed. He placed a hand over Dick’s, rubbing a finger over his knuckles, taking comfort in the fingers twitching slightly under his own.

Dick was alive. He would live. Would recover. He hadn’t lost his older brother.

“His name’s Tim.” Dick mumbled after a few minutes. Damian rolled his eyes. “Tim.” Dick repeated, his eyes glassy as they gazed through Damian’s forehead.

“Yeah?” Tim lightly tapped Dick’s hand. He didn’t move from his focus.

“Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim.” He continued repeating Tim’s name, staring up at the ceiling.

“Why is he doing that?” Damian demanded, jumping out of his chair. Dick obliviously repeated the word, seemingly unaffected. “Drake, she said the operation went <em>well</em>.”

“I dunno.” He sighed, Dick probably had no idea what was going on, nor would he remember this. “Look, he’s delirious, he’s going to be messed up for a bit. He got shot in the head.”

“I know that. I was there. But if the operation was successful, then why-”

The door opened, and they fell silent, footsteps approaching. Roy Harper poked around the corner; a phone pressed to his ear. “Okay, he doesn’t look too bad, all things considered. Hey, you, kid, you should actually answer your fu-fudging phone.”

“That’s a dollar for the swear jar.” A little girl, Lian, he presumed, materialized at his side. She carried a bag with her and zoomed over to Damian. “Daddy says you like to color, so I brought crayons.” She grabbed a pack from her bag and shoved them at him. Damian looked mildly disgusted but took them anyway. “Say thank you.” Lian demanded.

Damian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Tim glanced at Roy, he winked, doing his best not to laugh as he finished talking with whoever was on the phone.

“Thank you.” Dick replied, patting Lian’s head. His eyes seemed to find hers before darting away to stare at the ceiling.

“Not you.” She groaned. “Him.” She pointed at Damian.

“Thank you.” He repeated. Lian cracked a smile, giggling.

“Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny – he’s delirious.” Damian replied harshly, eyes narrowing. Lian shrugged, turning, almost sizing him up. She was only maybe an inch shorter than him, if he had to venture a guess.

“Uncle Dick is always happier when you laugh.” She pointed out. “It’s contagious.” Sure enough, a wide looping grin had materialized on Dick’s face.

“But we’re in a hospital.” Damian looked outraged; his hands balled in little fists.

“Daddy says laughter is the best medicine.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Roy tossed his phone (it landed perfectly in the center of the little dresser next to the bed), and scooped up his daughter in a big hug, sweeping her off the ground.

“Look, kid.” He looked down at Damian. “I know this is scary and it sucks, but my kid’s got a point.” He kissed the top of her head, prompting more giggles. “She’s a smart cookie, and this isn’t exactly her first rodeo.” Damian’s ears flushed, his face unchanged, but his ears beet red.

“This is not my first rodeo, and if you were more competent, than-”

“If Dick was a dumb-, I mean, if he was more competent, we wouldn’t be here.” Roy pointed out, speaking over Damian. Lian smacked his face lightly.

“Daddy, that’s rude.” Roy rolled his eyes. Dick started speaking in a language Tim vaguely recognized, looking displeased at the argument.

“Sweetie, I’m trying to make a point.” He set her down, ruffling her hair. “Why don’t you get out the coloring book and let Damian pick out a page.” Damian opened his mouth to comment, but Roy cut him off. “Look, you should see how happy Dick is when Lian gives him coloring pages. I think he’s earned one from you.” Damian closed his mouth. His brain seemingly compiling the information. “What she said isn’t wrong, he’ll recover faster if he’s happier, Timbo, you’re a bat-nerd, back me up here.”

“Well according to a study done in-” Roy held up a hand.

“Point made, don’t put me to sleep.” Tim rolled his eyes, remembering why he used to avoid hanging out with (some of) Dick’s friends. For now, he joined Roy in staring down Damian, Lian gazing at him too, an unlikely team up in a battle of wills.

“Only if Drake makes one too.” Damian miraculously relented after a few minutes. Tim nodded, peace from Damian was worth doing some coloring. Dick would be incredibly happy – these pages would likely be framed; it would be worth it to see the smile on his face. It was worth it now to see Lian’s face light up, as she rushed to unpack her things.

“Oh, and I brought Uncle Dick a stuffy.” She pulled out a stuffed elephant and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Say thank you.” Dick replied – still not speaking anything he could place, and Lian smiled, Dick smiled back.

“What’s he been saying?” Tim asked, looking to Roy, as Damian slid to the floor, selecting coloring pages with Lian. Roy sat on the side of the bed, carefully leaning Dick forward, to get a better look at the back of his head. He whistled, ignoring Tim for a moment.

“You really did it to yourself this time, jeez Dickie.” He muttered to himself before turning back. “He’s speaking Navajo, he was counting to ten earlier, and he told Lian thanks.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Would you believe his pronunciation is always better when he’s like this?”

“No, that seems on brand.” Tim mused. “Apparently my French gets exponentially better the less I’ve slept.” Roy shrugged, and turned back on Dick.

“Quit rubbing off on the kids, you don’t want them to turn into you, yah? Bunch a’ weirdo bat-nerds.” Dick was apparently, not listening, and was more into petting the plushy.

“Zitka.” He replied, showing it to Roy. Roy patted his shoulder.

“Yeah buddy, I know. Isn’t she cute?” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Dick’s forehead. Something seemed to click in Tim’s brain, as Dick garbled on, fascinated by the toy.

“How many times have you done this?” He asked, watching as Roy leaned back, taking the seat next to the bed. He shrugged.

“I stopped counting after Blood fried his brains, back when he ran around in a V-neck.” Tim cringed, that was before he even became Robin. “Don’t look like that, he didn’t die.” Not that time, or this time – but things had been too close for comfort more times than Tim wanted to think about. Roy’s fingers drummed against the armrest. “I don’t know, Garth tried out the elephant thing a while back. It keeps him happy.” He pulled a book out of Lian’s bag, starting to flip through the pages. “Take nap kid – you look deader than him. Lian and I got this covered.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, tucking his legs up with him. He watched as Dick happily turned the toy over and over in his hands, blearily blinking at the world. Damian was quiet where he sat on the floor, inspecting each of the colors. By the time he put his first stroke to paper, Tim was already fast asleep.

#bad things happen bingo #batfam #titans #dc comics #batfamily #batman #batman and robin #dick grayson #tim drake #my writing #roy harper #lian harper #damian wayne #red robin #canon divergence #tw hospitals #tw anxiety #tw gsw #wrote this one just for me lol self indulgent

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oh-crap-im-attatched · 3 years

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Ok, so I’ve been really into batfamily reverse age au’s lately, but a lot of the fics I’ve read just insert Tim Drake into Jason’s story with minor changes. That’s fine, but it got me thinking about what would’ve happened if Tim was the second Robin.

And I may or may not have gotten a little out of control.

Anyways, enjoy.

So Talia would drop Damian off on Bruce first. Which, I mean imagine Bruce having to learn how to parent with Damian. Anyway, Damian becomes Bruce’s first sidekick, not Robin because Dick came up with the name Robin, so for the sake of this rant I’m going to call him Blackbird. I think that would go pretty similarly to canon, with Damian eventually wanting to go off by himself, having a falling out with Bruce, etc. I imagine reverse Damian as less bratty than regular Damian, because he doesn’t have a Robin legacy to live up to or a mantle to earn. He was the first. I mean he’s still Damian, and still has to learn how to go from assassin to vigilante, but he is definitely more confident with his place. I think he’d be a lot like Bruce because 1. Regular Damian is already similar to Bruce and 2. He didn’t have any other role models, so there was no Dick Grayson to admire instead. So, eventually, Damian goes off by himself as a new vigilante (that isn’t Nightwing.)

Then Tim shows up. Bruce is upset that his son left and is trying to learn how to deal with the fact that Damian grew up, no longer needs him, etc. Bruce probably blames himself partly, thinking that he was a bad parent to Damian, and starts getting more violent with criminals. Taking his own guilt out on them, when a boy shows up at his door talking about how he knows that Bruce Wayne is Batman. Now there was no Dick Grayson doing a quadruple flip for Tim to figure it out, so he had to figure out a different way. Maybe he met Damian at a gala and was able to connect his formal speech patterns with Blackbird’s, and then everything else clicked into place. Anyway, Tim saw that there wasn’t a Blackbird anymore and saw that Batman started getting more violent with criminals and needed a sidekick, so he volunteered. It would take way less convincing from Tim in this au, because Damian didn’t die, especially when Bruce finds out about the neglectful parents. Tim would be closer with Bruce right off the bat too. So Tim becomes Blackbird. Everything’s great for a while, and when Tim’s parents die, Bruce adopts him. I think that Tim would always help the street kids, because he started becoming friends with some of them while following Batman and Blackbird.

Now, I’m thinking that Tim encountered the Joker in a very different way than Jason. Tim is smart enough that he can’t be easily tricked into a trap like Jason did, and he’s less impulsive. I think the same thing that happens to Jason would happen to Tim though, because the timing wouldn’t change. The Joker would want to traumatize Batman by killing his sidekick at the same time as canon. Who that sidekick is doesn’t really matter. It probably would’ve happened similarly to in Batman Beyond, where Tim was chasing a criminal or Harely and ended up getting knocked out. After that, the same thing in canon would happen, beaten, blown up, dead.

Bruce would be devestated. He’d probably be even more guilty than in canon because he let Tim convince him to be Blackbird in the first place, when Tim wasn’t even part of the family yet. He’d get even more violent than before, probably suicidal, starting to lose it. Damian would come back to Gotham to try to help his father, and mourn Tim himself. Damian and Tim didn’t have a strong relationship, but Damian respected his intelligence and the boy started to grow in him. Damian would feel that he should’ve gotten to know Tim better.

Then Jason would come flying into everyone’s lives. Bruce is worse than ever, when he comes across a boy stealing his tires. He’s surprised and a little shocked at the absolute balls this kid has, stealing from the batmobile, and dazedly asks if Jason was hungry. Jason would remind Bruce of Tim, and how Tim was always so good with the younger street kids and how he would want to help Jason. Long story short, Jason gets adopted. Jason in this au wouldn’t become Blackbird for a decent amount of time, even when he discovers Bruce is Batman, because Bruce is so scared at the thought of losing another son, but he eventually relents. Jason wouldn’t be able to get away with as many impulsive moves as in canon, because Bruce is way more cautious now. Anyway, Batman calms down, and everything’s normal for a while.

Then Tim comes back.

The same thing would happen as in canon. Ra��s Al Ghul heard that the smart Blackbird died, and starts plotting. Cut to grace robbing and Lazarus pit ex machina. Now, Tim wouldn’t respond to the same manipulation that Jason did. He doesn’t want people to die, he wouldn’t be that mad at Bruce for not killing the Joker, because he understands Batman, he followed him, studied him, flew with him. He knows why Bruce didn’t kill the Joker. No, Ra’s would have to resort to different tactics. Jason. Ra’s would play it that Bruce immediately took a new son off of the streets, a new Blackbird. That would get to Tim. If Tim thought that Bruce immediately got a new sidekick to put in harm’s way, didn’t even pause, and a street kid at that, who wouldn’t have a better alternative. That would get Tim mad. Tim wouldn’t be mad at being replaced, but that he got replaced with a kid who didn’t know better, immediately, and that Damian didn’t stop it. That would break through Tim’s walls enough for Ra’s to get to him. And given a year, Ra’s could manipulate him into wanted to kill Bruce. “For everyone’s sake,” Ra’s would say. “How many kids will he get killed.” Damian would be used as fuel too. Ra’s would say that he knows Damian. That Damian would stand by and let it happen if it meant he got to stay as a solo vigilante. That Damian doesn’t care about anyone else. Tim’s smart enough to logic his way through most of these lies, and he knows full well how much trouble Ra’s is, given that Damian was his predecessor, But, it wouldn’t matter how smart Tim was, given enough time and sole exposure to the league. Ra’s would shape Tim into his heir. Damian was a failure in that regard, and Tim is smarter anyway.

Eventually, Ra’s would be confident enough in Tim’s brainwashing that he would bring Tim back to Gotham. Not as the Red Hood, but as an assassin. A very well-trained assassin. Tim wouldn’t just kill people like Jason did, he’d probably have killed people with the league but not a lot. Forcing Tim to kill a lot would shake him out of the brainwashing more, because of his morals. No, Ra’s would be the one to get Batman’s attention. When Bruce eventually figured out Ra’s was in town, he’d go find him, and find Tim instead. Tim would have swords on him, and be in league of assassins uniform, but would probably be holding a gun at Bruce, because he could still beat Tim in a one on one fight. Damian would be there too, because he can handle his grandfather, but when he sees Tim, he’d blanch. Because, despite not being incredibly close to Tim, that was still his little brother, his dead little brother with his grandfather behind him. Oh, Damian would know exactly what happened.

Bruce would try to talk Tim down, and so would Damian, but with Ra’s right there as well, Tim wouldn’t shake enough to back down. Then, Jason shows up. I think that’s what gets through to Tim. Jason would’ve heard about Tim, and wanted to be just like him. He’d say as much to him. That is what would make a Tim pause, because according to Ra’s, Bruce made Jason Blackbird, Tim didn’t even think about if Jason had to convince Bruce to become Blackbird. He wasn’t able to with being around Ra’s constantly for a year. But with Jason standing right in front of him, completely unharmed, saying he wanted to be like Tim. That would shock Tim’s brain enough to actually think about what Damian and Bruce were saying. It would be like his entire word view suddenly tilted. His hand would start shaking. Damian would try to get him to see reason again, to reach out to Tim for what is pretty much the first time, and Ra’s gets cocky. He forgets that Tim’s intelligence doesn’t belong to him or Bruce. Tim would be reevaluating everything and start seeing more and more holes with Ra’s arguments. Tim’s more rational that regularJason, he’d be able to see that reverse Jason seems to want to be Blackbird, just like Tim wanted to be. I think that untimately it would take Bruce reaching out to him, calling him son, calking him back to truly break him. I think that Tim would go after Ra’s, pit madness still being a thing. Tim would probably almost kill him because a Ra’s would be caught off guard. Damian would be the one to stop him, to pull him back.

Afterwards, Tim would have a lot to sort through, and still wouldn’t exactly trust Bruce. He’d talk to Jason though. He and Jason would be very close, with Jason helping with a lot of his recovery. Giving constant assurance that he’s ok and that he loves being Blackbird. Tim would be very protective over him. Damian and Tim would get a lot closer too. Damian helping to undo all the conditioning and lies that Tim endured while with the league. Damian understands, and Tim would see that. Given enough time Tim would eventually go back home for good, go back to Bruce. When he finally rejoins the family he’d become a solo vigilante. His name would be Cardinal. A bird representing dead loved ones watching over you.

Bruce “dying” would still happen and I think that Tim would still be the one to figure it out, Damian might be a little skeptical because of Tim’s admittedly less than amazing mental state, but would offer assistance. He’d seen enough people coming back to life to be to sure that it’s impossible, and Jason really likes Tim at this point and wants Bruce back, so he’d be all for it. They’d bring Bruce back together, without the league of assassins, although Tim still finds a way to blow up half of Ra’s bases.

Dick would be like a breath of fresh air after the chaos of the first three. Bruce and the family would go to the circus for bonding. Maybe Tim mentioned seeing a circus performance when he was little, a Bruce wanted something to help Tim get even more comfortable being around him and the family again. They’d see the Flying Graysons fall, and see poor little Dick Grayson crying over the dead bodies of his family and immediately come to a consensus. Dick would get adopted soon after. He wouldn’t become Blackbird very quickly, as Jason still held the mantle, and maybe he wouldn’t at all. Maybe when the family finally deemed him ready to join them as a vigilante, he’d take the name Robin. The older siblings would love Dick and want to protect this boy with endless energy and a wide smile no matter what. Tim now having a strong urge when it comes to protecting his younger brothers because of Ra’s, Damian finally knowing how to big brother (in a very Damian way) at this point, and Jason getting to take care of someone younger than him. All of them would be a strong family unit at this point. And no one could tear them apart again.

#tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #ra’s al ghul #reverse age au #reverse batfam #this is longer than i thought it would be #oh well #hope you enjoyed #I’ll probably write the batgirls version to this at some point too #batfamily

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

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Worthy of Everything - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson Summary: Grayson, who had left them. Grayson, who didn’t remember a single thing. Grayson, who Damian had finally let himself accept was out of his life. Forever. Dead to him. Gone. And now his ringtone was going off. A/N: One day I’ll stop writing post-Ric/post-Robin reunions happening over the phone for these two, but not today. Wrote/edited this in an hour, and literally all based around the three paragraphs of Dick professing his love. I got that dialogue stuck in my head all week and needed a reason to write it. Sorry it sucks/is disjointed. I just want Dick to hold his son in canon again dammit. Also reminder that I tend to write Damian as a reflection of myself for cathartic/coping reasons so take that for what you will about my mental health/self image ha haAA~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

It surprised him, when his phone rang.

Not because it rang. Oh no, it was practically ringing off the hook these days. Once, his phone went dead without him ever touching it because it rang so often in just the few hours of that morning.

People trying to find him. People pretending to care. Pretending to be his family. His friends.

Whatever.

But no, his phone ringing this time…it was surprising. Shocking, actually.

Because it was Grayson’s ringtone.

Grayson, who had left them. Grayson, who didn’t remember a single thing. Grayson, who Damian had finally let himself accept was out of his life. Forever. Dead to him. Gone.

And now his ringtone was going off.

Dick was the only one he ever took the time to change a ringtone for. Everyone else was the default, even his parents. Because he didn’t care enough. And they didn’t care enough for him either.

Because it’s not like anyone else called him.

(Jon did. But Jon was now thousands of years in the future, and reception there is spotty at best.)

The short song was going through its third repetition now, phone twisting as it vibrated on the table. The screen was clearer now. The name Richard Grayson shone brightly.

He’d been avoiding calls. Avoiding this phone. Now it was like an out-of-body experience, watching his hand reach out and grab it.

He hit the button to answer, and slowly brought it up to his ear, but didn’t say anything. Still wasn’t completely sure it wasn’t a trick. Wasn’t completely sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He heard breathing on the line. He breathed back.

Finally, softly: “I know you’re there, kiddo.”

Damian’s breath hitched, and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

This wasn’t real, he decided. Because Grayson was gone. Grayson wasn’t coming back. He accepted that. He’d finally, finally accepted that.

So instead of a greeting, he demanded, albeit dumbly, “How did you get this number?”

There was a moment of quiet, then Dick laughed.

“It’s the same number you’ve always had.” Damian could hear the smile in Dick’s voice. “So it’s still saved in my phone.”

“…If you’re looking for Batman, I’m not with him.” Damian deflected. Because, still, this couldn’t be real. This wasn’t. It was not. “Call Superman for his contact.”

The sense of joy vanished immediately. “I know.” Dick murmured blankly. “I know you’re not with Bruce.” A pause. “Tell me where you are.”

And Damian’s muscle memory was, of course, to tell him everything. Spill your life and your heart and your soul to this man like you have so many times before. Tell him how much it hurts, breathing. How much it hurts to exist anymore. How lonely you are, how lost. Tell him your fears, listen for the hope he always so freely gave.

But then his brain caught up.

Don’t do that. Because Grayson is gone.

This…this isn’t Grayson.

This is a trick.

He inhaled sharply. “You’ve always been bad at imitations, Father.” He spat. “And this is your most pathetic attempt yet.”

“No – no wait, Damian.” A near gasp. “Please don’t hang up!”

Damian found his hand tensing around the phone. Found himself, inexplicably, obeying.

“It’s not your dad. I’m not your dad. I.” Dick seemed to stumble over his words a little. “I came home, Damian.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

“Why would I lie to you?” Dick demanded. “When have I ever lied to you?” He huffed in annoyance, and maybe…maybe a little something else. Pain? Desperateness? “Look, it’s not something to explain over the phone, okay? But I…I remembered. I remembered and I came home, and Bruce…” Dick’s voice changed now to anger. “Bruce told me what happened, what he did to clearly fuck it all up again, and that he hasn’t found you yet.”

Damian didn’t respond to that.

“I want to find you.” Dick whispered. “I…I need to find you, Damian. I need to see you.” A sigh. “I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

Damian glanced out the nearby window, stared across the Gotham skyline. He saw no silhouettes of vigilantes. No shadows that he could convince himself were moving. It was still too early. The sun wasn’t completely set yet. Not time for anyone to start patrol.

He didn’t realize he’d spoken until after he did.

“…Why?”

“Why…?” Dick breathed in a mimicry. “Why do I need to…” More sounds that weren’t words. Just confusion. Just disbelief. “Because I love you, Damian.”

Damian immediately scoffed. Opened his mouth to respond. “You-”

“And you know what’s great about that?” Dick cut off with a frustrated drawl. “You don’t get to tell me I can’t.”

Damian’s mouth snapped shut.

“You don’t get to tell me if I’m allowed to love you or not. You don’t get to control my emotions, or give me reasons you think I shouldn’t. Because I’m going to anyway. Because I do anyway.” There was a manic-ness in his voice now. A panic. A near-fury. “And because I love you, because I miss you, I’m going to find you. Whether you want to be found or not.”

There was no other sound on Dick’s end of the line, but Damian found his eyes darting across Gotham anyway, looking for a weightless man. Looking for Nightwing.

“I only called as a courtesy. I thought…I thought maybe you’d want to see me too. So you’d tell me.” Dick was calm again. Quiet. Thoughtful. Hiding the sadness. “But that’s fine. I was just hoping for a hint. But I’ll find you without one. That’s fine too. You know me, I love a challenge.”

Damian felt his lips tremble. Tears well into his eyes.

With Father, it was easy. Because Father didn’t use words. Father barely looked at him. So there was never that awkward moment of love being professed to him. He knew, deep down, maybe, that his father, his family, loved him. And most days, that was good enough.

But assuming, hoping, dreaming you were loved was never good enough for Dick Grayson. He had to let you know, be 100% sure you knew. He had to tell you.

And he’d told Damian that before. Many times. But it’d never hit as hard as it did right now, as he stood in an empty apartment, on the phone with the person he cared for most. With the person who…with the only person who found him worthy. Who he thought was gone, out of his life for the rest of eternity.

And even after all these years, it was so much. Too much.

And he just didn’t deserve it.

Knew he didn’t deserve it. Just as Grayson knew how much he loved him despite that anyway.

“…Grayson?”

Because this wasn’t a trick. This wasn’t a dream. This was real.

He sounded so childish. So weak. He closed his eyes and scolded himself, even as the tears leaked through and down his cheeks anyway. Let disappointment wash through him even as his breaths became ragged and snot filled his nose.

Grayson had come back to him. Despite everything he was and everything he’d done, Grayson came back to him. Grayson still loved him.

“I’m here, kiddo. It’s me. I’m coming to get you.” Dick murmured gently. A second to think, then try again. “Just tell me where you are.”

Damian silently shook his head, slowly crumbling to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest, hid his face in the crook of his arm.

“I’m not taking you back to Bruce, or the manor, or anything. We’ll go back to my place. You’re coming with me. You’re staying with me. No matter what. I promise.” Dick continued. Then repeated, softer, “Just please tell me where you are, Damian.”

So, sitting on the floor, sobbing, feeling relieved and hopeful and loved and knowing he didn’t deserve a second of any of those emotions – Damian did.

#dick grayson #Damian Wayne

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 4 years

Text

whumptober day 1: restrained

i’m doing whumptober this year! slowly, but i’m going to try to do them all.

summary: dick wishes he were in an actual cage, or hanging from shackles in some dank basement. anything would be better than this.

warnings: some swearing, mentions of suicide. ostensibly set in comics-canon, but uh... set in a nebulous time-line that doesn’t really spoil anything other than the fact that damian is robin.

restrained

There are worse places to get stuck than the Wayne manor’s living room, Dick muses. At least he’s comfortable, people can come and visit him, and there’s limitless entertainment on the TV to distract him. He’s not in some dank basement hanging his entire weight from his arms, and he’s certainly not tied to a cold torture table or to a chair in the centre of a room that’s slowly flooding and he has to slips his knots before he drowns and is that a squid that’s trying to wrap itself around his face, what the fuck—

Okay, so Dick has had more than his share of weird and terrible experiences being tied up. Compared to them, this is a fucking holiday.

“This is getting silly, Grayson,” Damian says, leaning against the entrance to the living room, arms crossed over his chest.

“Has it only just, Dami,” Dick mutters. He’s lounging on the sofa, one arm over his eyes. He hasn’t moved from this position for at least a couple of hours. He isn’t sure if ‘moving’ is going to be on the agenda for the near future. He just can’t see the point.

“Have you tried leaving again today? Maybe the—spell,” Dick imagines Damian’s mouth twisting, the tip of his nose pointing towards the ceiling, “has worn off by now.”

Dick grunts. The truth is, he hasn’t tried in a few days at least. The first few days he couldn’t stop throwing himself against the invisible barrier between this (goddamn fucking) living room and the rest of the world, even if it meant that each time it felt like he was being cut open and electrocuted. It was only a combination of Bruce and Jason bodily holding him back and his own body giving up on him, unable to process that much pain for that long, that made him stop.

The family’s called in favours with Zatanna, Constantine, Doctor Fate, pretty much anyone who has even passing experience with magic and can figure out what’s going on and why it seemed like only Dick was trapped there. And until they can find a solution, Dick, well…

I’ve had worse, he reminds himself again.

“That’s not an answer,” Damian says.

Dick bites back on an angry retort and turns so that he’s facing the backrest of the sofa. He means well, Dick thinks, but if he has to look at Damian’s half-concerned, half-contemptuous expression again he’s going to say something he will regret. Again.

After a long moment, he hears Damian click his tongue against his teeth. “It’s a good thing you’re not in enemy territory, Grayson,” he says, before walking away, “where your utter lack of self-preservation might’ve ended up endangering someone else.”

And that’s the crux of the whole thing, isn’t it? If he’s in enemy hands he at least has a purpose, a readily identifiable objective, something to overcome. Here, he feels like a goldfish in a bowl, able to smell, hear and see freedom but never able to get there. Each little concession to his situation—from the portable toilet that Alfred’s dragged in there, to installing whatever gym equipment that can fit in the space, to the growing collection of books, blu-rays and multiple new streaming subscriptions—feels like a defeat to an invisible enemy he hasn’t even begun to fight.

(that he doesn’t know how to fight—)

He pulls his blanket over his shoulders, closes his eyes, and surprises himself by falling asleep almost immediately.

Dick’s woken by the sound of alarms. He’s up on his feet and running towards the source of the sound before he can even put together a conscious thought; it sounds like somebody’s trying to gain unauthorised access into the Batcave, which can only mean--

He stops short when it feels like he’s run into a wall of electricity. His mind tips sideways, sparks filling his vision, nerves misfiring and his body convulsing in their wake. He falls to the floor, twitching, the impact digging bruises into his skin. He curls into a ball, his muscles taut and pulling impossibly tauter, drool seeping from a mouth that he can’t seem to close and screams locked inside a chest that he can’t seem to move.

The moment stretches for an eternity until it isn’t, and he heaves a shuddering breath. His vision clears enough to see Damian--in full Robin costume--crouched in front of him, pale and frowning. Jason’s standing behind him, shirtless and panting.

“Dick,” Damian says. His voice is small, and scared.

Dick should be trying to reassure him. He should be teasing him about using Dick instead of Grayson or Richard or any number of semi-fond insults. He should be trying to figure out which is way up, honestly, given the way the room is still spinning. Instead he says, “... the intruder?”

“My fault,” Jason says. “Tripped an alarm by mistake. But, Dick, you…”

Dick starts to push himself up on shaky arms. “I’m okay,” he says, even though his voice feels like it’s scraping through the gravel in his throat. “I must’ve gotten farther than I realised.”

Jason and Damian exchange looks.

“That’s the thing, Dick,” Jason says, after a long, silent moment. “You didn’t.”

That’s when Dick notices that he’s barely two feet away from the couch.

“Oh,” he says.

Now that the circle’s started closing in around him, it doesn’t stop. Everyday, Dick discovers that the space that he can exist without pain that feels like his body is being flayed open with a machete is getting smaller and smaller. There’s a point where he can’t move from the couch, even to use the portable toilet--unless he wants to live inside it.

This is the point where he stops eating.

Family and friends come and go, reassuring, pleading, sometimes yelling at him to not give up. Dick wants to be grateful that he isn’t alone in this, but seeing the way they move in and out of the… cage that he’s in with no effort at all brings him to the verge of heart-pounding, dizzying panic. A large part of him is still unable to reconcile the wide open spaces he sees around him with his inability to… be in those spaces. An actual cage would probably be easier to deal with.

(For a fraction of a moment, Dick considers asking Bruce to build him one. He can’t imagine that desire being treated as anything other than a joke, but he is well past the point of joking now.)

“We’re close to finding the solution,” Tim tells him fiercely. “I know it. That’s why the spell’s accelerating.”

Dick’s supposed to be the hopeful one, and yet it’s always Tim who’s reaching for even the slightest sliver of light and it’s always Dick who’s too afraid to believe him. The words I’ll die before that happens come unbidden to his mouth, but he doesn’t say them; for one, they would devastate Tim, who already looks a moment away from shattering, and two, would he really die? Or would he just be in this horrific pain for all of eternity?

(would he be allowed to--)

Bruce spends an entire day sitting with him, talking about everything except Dick’s current predicament. He talks about old and new cases, about Damian’s newest addition to his bat-menagerie, about upgrading the Batmobile and the time Alfred tried to teach him to make Bechamel sauce and he ended up burning a perfectly good pan because for some reason when it came to cooking, he lost all sense of time and proportion.

Dick appreciates the effort, and tries to participate, but at this point he thinks it would be a mercy to be left alone.

Dick can’t move. Even the slightest slump in his posture means his muscles seize up in agony, forcing him to find a position that hurts the least and… stay that way. He can’t speak. He can barely breathe.

Damian’s taken to cuddling next to him, bereft of his last shred of self-consciousness. He doesn’t look at Dick, but tucks his head under Dick’s chin, arms wrapped around his chest. The steady stream of visitors has trickled down to just his family, who move around him, silent, slow and haggard. They’re close to giving up, he realises. They’re so close to letting him--letting him--

No. Now that the moment’s here, Dick finds he’s not even remotely ready. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to die!

He tries to speak, but the slightest movement of his jaw shoots white hot pain down his neck and spine, and all he can manage is a whimper.

Bruce crouches in front of him until his face is level with Dick’s. “It’s okay, Dick,” he says. “This will be over soon.”

Dick blinks, tears slipping down his face to soak into Damian’s hair.

#nightwing #dick grayson #my fic #whumptober2020 #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #no.1

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hintofcolor · 4 years

Text

Things I’ve managed to convince myself are canon:

Dick was born in Romania and spent his entire childhood traveling with the circus not once settling down therefore when his parents died in America (supposedly just another country they stopped in) he was forced to stay there. Meaning dick was an illegal immigrant for a long time while Bruce constantly was trying to use his money and power to get Dick legal without him leaving the country OR anyone finding out

This also means Dick couldn’t really speak English when he moved in with Bruce (this is backed up by him constantly dismantling the English language in the YJ cartoon)

All of the bat kids were bullied brutally in school

Bruce encouraged them to fight back just like Alfred did with him (“never throw the first punch but if get hit make sure they’re the ones that stay down”)

Dick spent a couple weeks in juvie after his parents died and it was the worst couple weeks of his life

Dick had a childhood crush on Wally (who is straight) when dick was 16 he sat Wally down and told him. He told him he expected nothing out of this confession he just hated feeling like he was lying to Wally, Wally understood and was really nonchalant about it nothing changed in their relationship

Jason grew up loving wonder woman and considered her his greatest inspiration in being a hero when he was robin

In return Diana absolutely adored Jason

When Jason got older his respect for Diana only grew and Diana constantly stood up for him, even going as far as (subtly) threatening Bruce a couple times

Jason can’t handle the smell of drugs at all, he always has to wear a filtered mask during drug busts just in case

Jason used to smoke but ever since coming back the smoke just reminds him of the explosion (I saw this somewhere I can’t remember where shout out to you tho)

Jason hates the color green

Tim was severely neglected as a child

Tim learned multiple different languages from all the nanny’s he’s had

Tim is an amazing photographer

All of Bruce’s kids are really close with Selina and go to her to talk or just if they need a break from Bruce and she absolutely adores it

This is one of the main reasons Bruce wanted to marry her

Bruce might be a little awkward and socially inept but he is a good father and loves all of his kids and even tho he might slip up sometimes he would NEVER (I’m looking at you Tim king) NEVER EVER intentionally hurt one of his kids physically or mentally BECAUSE THAT IS EXTEREMELY OUT OF CHARACTER @ ANY WRITER WHO HAS MADE BRUCE A JERK GOD LEARN YOUR CHARACTER JEEZ

Damian is a phenomenal artist and is considered a prodigy

It is something he keeps to himself however

Both Dick and Tim have gone and worked under Selina during thier robin days for a few weeks

The only person who is close to Dicks level when it comes to acrobatics is Selina

There are days where you are only allowed to speak in your native tongue to help Everyone keep up their language skills (Tim speaks Filipino dick speaks Romani Jason speaks Italian Stephanie speaks Portuguese Damian speaks Arabic bruce switches Cassie speaks Chinese) these are the days duke feels like slamming his head through a wall

All of the bat kids have green lantern shirts

Tim has a habit of stealing clothes from literally anyone

Tim prefers tea over coffee

Ace and Titus are both trained service dog however Titus is Damians specifically while Ace is trained to alert Alfred of Bruce and to alert Bruce of Dick Tim and Jason

Bruce is think about getting another dog for Cassie steph and duke because he doesn’t want to overwhelm Ace with 3 more people

Nobody in that spoiled family except for Jason and Alfred can make ANYTHING other that ramen cereal and toast

Dick is insanely healthy because that’s how he grew up in the circus AND the manor

Bruce once lit the refrigerator on fire trying to cook. No one knows how. He denies he ever did such to this day

Dick was considered a heartthrob as a teen and actually was featured on vogue in native dress and took the opportunity to talk about his culture

Vickie was fuming but so was Lois

Dick dresses like Harry styles. Convince me otherwise. I dare you.

However his go to look is a Hawaiian short tucked into black skinny jeans and black converse

Just like Selina everyone in the batfamily has a tendency to confide in Dinah

No homophobia sexism or racism is allowed in the Wayne house hold if you display any of the following you will promptly be kicked out. It has happened before

Cassie has punched lex Luther in the face at a gala

Bruce laughed

Cass has also only worn sweats and a sports bra to a gala

Cass is a ballet dancer and likes teaching her brothers the moves she has learned

When Bruce came back from the dead and found out the justice league thought Tim was going insane with grief and didn’t do anything about it he yelled and screamed for a solid hour. Then he went silent. for weeks he didn’t say a word. It was the most terrifying he had ever been

Duke hangs on to the fact that he is the only meta allowed in Gotham with absolute pride

All the robins check in on the kids from the ‘we are robin’ movement every now and again just to make sure they are okay

Adults are terrified of the bats however children love them

Every member of the batfamily has been called over by child screaming out their window only to spend the next hour helping said child with their homework

Batman makes sure he is approachable to children he wants them to feel safe enough around him to ask for his help no matter what

That has led to him: 1. Patching up stuff animals 2. Calming down imaginary friends 3. Giving opinions on important matters such as which color is the best 4. Helping with homework 5. Trying to be persuaded into convincing the parents not to make broccoli anymore. It’s his favorite part about putting on a mask

Teenagers tho a little more hesitant also approach him with a little more serious matters and more for advice. (How can I help my friend with depression? How can I help my anxiety? I think friend is doing drugs how can I help. I don’t think these are good people I’m hanging out with but now I’m too scared to stop)

However if teens catch any bat sitting on a rooftop close to their windows they ask more stupid type of questions

“Hey nightwing how do you ask out a girl?” “Red hood I’m trying to write this book so hypothetically how long does it take some one to bleed out?” “If I payed you would you take my physical for PE for me?” “How good do you think you would do on the pacer test?” “Can you tell my little sister to shut up, she’ll listen to you?” “How much do I have to pay you to scare my friend?”

Talks between people and the vigilantes from rooftop to window happen a lot and it is always the highlight of the patrol. They like that the people of Gotham trust them.

Jason was brought back via whatever that superboy reset was (I’m still a little fuzzy, sue me) clawed his way out of his grave and then found by Talia. He was then but in the pit for his head injuries. Making it easier for the shadows to manipulate and brainwash him into hating Bruce. However that’s the only thing they manipulated him into. Jason didn’t go ‘insane by the pit’ and his thoughts and stances on killing are his own. And the way Bruce handles Jason being back is what made Jason continue hating Bruce even aged the brainwashing ‘wore off’

The day his dad died was what Jason considered the best day of his life

Dick is extremely intelligent and was considered a child prodigy (this isn’t a headcanon this is actually canon some of y’all just forget and need to be reminded)

Dick loves math (also canon)

Jason can sing. Like really really well.

Theater Nerd™️ Jason Todd

Jason is scared of thunderstorms

Damian is afraid of heights

Lady shiva absolutely adores Tim

They have all been arrested a few times each for varying reasons when they were teenagers

If Alfred or Bruce yell one thier full names the other kids will cover for them but ONLY if they use the full name other wise it’s every man for himself

I know this one isn’t batfam but I think kon playes the electric guitar and has a really unique punk-ish vibe type singing voice (think hobo Johnson)

Dick has naturally curly hair

#comics #dc comics #tim drake #damain wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #bruce is a good dad #alfred pennyworth #selina kyle #wally west #birdflash #kon el

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nitholites · 4 years

Text

Marinette Stark Chapter 1

(Assuming Tim is end game. Ages are as follows:

Alfred: immortal

Bruce: 48

Tony: 38

Jagged Stone: 37

Penny: 36

Pepper: 36

Dick: 34

Jason: 25

Tim: 22

Marinette: 21 (14 in canon)

Harley: 18

Peter: 17 (turning 18)

Damian: 11

Morgan: 3)

Marinette sighed, crossing her arms for warmth as she glanced around the street, cursing her luck as she was only a block from her destination. It was a rainy day, chilly and damp, and she was completely unprepared for the sudden downpour.

She smiled, her mind going back to a day similar to now, yet a million years ago. Thoughts of the sunshine boy ran around her mind, trying to remind her why she fell in love so stupidly all that time ago. Thoughts about him soon turned to thoughts about her class, and with those came the pain and a certain lying Italian.

Lila Rossi. AKA, the bane of Marinette's existence.

Chloe left only a year after Lila got bad, the bullying getting far too much for the blond. She went with her mother, actually, their relationship becoming much healthier and stronger than ever before. And while Marinette insisted she didn't owe her anything, the blonde didn't listen, determined to repay the bi-racial girl.

Which is how Chloe found herself on the other end of the phone, two years after Hawkmoth started terrorizing Paris as Marinette bawled and let her emotions fly out of her mouth. Chloe has never felt such rage as that night, anger for the sweet angel of a girl bubbling to the forefront of her mind.

That night, she swore if Lila ever showed herself in front of the blonde again, she wouldn't hold back.

After that night, Chloe convinced her mother to rethink taking Marinette as a student, convincing her to give the sweet girl another chance.

This time, Marinette took it.

Her parents, having learned about the mistreatment of their daughter, agreed that it would be for the best. At least while their lawsuits went through. Penny helped bring light to the situation, having sent the family the contact information for her and Jagged's lawyers and swore she'd help them through the process.

Anything for their niece, and the godmother for their future children.

The only drawback in Marinette's mind was Ladybug. Alas, that was taken care of thanks to Ryuuko, Viperion, and Master Fu. The old man had lent her Kaalki so she could come back for Akuma, and she'd made the two heros full-time back when Chat Noir started getting worse.

Marinette didn't like thinking about her ex-partner at all. The selfish kitty didn't know what 'no' meant, harassing her as Ladybug to go out with him. Then, when she shut him down, he came and complained to Marinette, one time even breaking into her room when she denied him access.

He didn't remain Chat Noir for long after that, and she wasn't even surprised to find Adrien under the mask. No one else was as spineless as he was, after all. She was only dissappointed at his behavior.

The only relief she got was when the kwamis explained how he wasn't her true Black Cat. She had a pure Creation soul, while Adrien was simply the next best option.

As the next Guardian, Marinette was allowed the responsibility to find her true Black Cat, and to give him the Miraculous.

All this, and Hawkmoth wasn't exactly getting any closer to a jail cell. No one in the Miraculous team had any kind of detective abilities, so Marinette took it upon herself (after getting agreements from her team) to find someone who did. She originally wanted to convince Batman to her cause, but the Bourgeois wouldn't be going to Gotham for a few months, at least. So, she decided to wait and put it on the back-burner for the moment and to plan for when she found the bat.

As Chloe (who knew her identity) said: "You need some girl time and self-help time. The fact you haven't got any yet is ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!"

So, for the past few months, Marinette worked up her brand and got help. Professional help, once she was in the States.

Which brought her to the present, under a bus awning as the rain poured around her. Tony Stark had commissioned her to make the outfits for himself, his wife, Pepper, their two adopted sons, Peter and Harley, and their daughter, Morgan. It was a birthday party for Peter, the middle child.

On her way to their first meeting in Stark Industries, Marinette was caught by the rain and forced to seek shelter under the awning, minimal water on her or her stuff, thankfully.

She brought with her a bag half the size of herself, rolling on the ground, filled with her journals, swaths of fabric, thread, pens, pencils, and a measuring tape. Everything she'd usually bring to a first meeting.

Her eyes glanced at the ally way opening to her right and behind her, her senses screaming danger. She focused on her hearing, frowning as she picked up an erratic heartbeat and scuffling she associated with a mugging.

She internally sighed, mourning her favorite soon-to-be drenched blouse and silently stepped towards the dark ally. Her heels didn't make a sound as she rounded the corner, internally groaning at the cliché scene in front of her. Shady, lanky dude trying to rob a decent-looking young man.

She silently crept behind the mugger, signalling for the young man to stay silent as she ended up right behind the mugger.

Without a peep, she leapt up, bringing her elbow down hard in the middle of his neck and knocking him unconscious. She silently landed, turning to the young man with a small smile. "Are you alright?"

Big, innocent, brown eyes looked up at her, relief and excitement shining in them as he nodded, brown curls bobbing with his head. "Yeah! Thank you, Miss. That was really cool!"

"It was nothing," she replied with a subtle French accent, turning back to the entrance of the ally as the man followed behind her. "Anyone would have done the same."

"That's not really true, Miss."

As they reached the awning once more, Marinette turned to him. "Enough of the 'Miss' business. My name is Marinette."

"I'm Peter. Parker, I mean."

As they made their way to SI, they talked, their conversation drowning out the sounds of rain around them. A few moments later, they walked into SI, a feminine voice making Marinette jump. "Welcome, Peter. Mr. Stark and Mr. Keener are waiting for you in the lab."

As Marinette composed herself, Peter replied, looking up with a smile. "Thanks, FRIDAY. Will you ask Mr. Stark if I can bring my new friend with me?"

"Of course."

Marinette looked at Peter, curiosity in her eyes. "Who's that?"

"That's FRIDAY, Mr. Stark's AI. She and Mrs. Potts are the only ones who can keep Mr. Stark semi-under control."

"Thank you, Peter. I will let Mrs. Stark know you think so highly of her." As Marinette giggled at FRIDAY's words, Peter blushed and hid his face in his hands. "Mr. Stark also said your guest may come up."

Within a moment, the two teens stood in the doorway of the lab, two other figures already in the high-tech room. The two men in the lab turned towards the elevator, grins on their faces, as Peter and Marinette stepped into the room- Peter with much more confidence and familiarity than Marinette. "Pete, thank God you're here. Will you please tell this inexperienced, back-water country boy that-"

Marinette zoned out, taking this chance to look around the lab. Half-finished projects littered the various desks, Iron Man parts were strewn about almost halfhazirdly, tools and stains and singe marks on a few walls and sections of the ceiling, plus a few dents on said walls, ceiling, and desks, showed this lab was lived in, not just for show. The empty soda bottles, ramen packets, and plates on a very specific desk in the center of the lab said so, too.

"-and I'm gonna shut up now."

Marinette blinked, realizing Peter had talked through all of her observations for the past 10 minutes. She brought a hand to her face, covering the light laughter coming from her chest. That caused three sets of eyes to turn towards her, one in laughter as well and two in... Well, Marinette wanted to call it confusion, but there was something more. Analysis?

"Who's the chick?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm here for Mr. Stark's commission, but got held up by the rain."

Eyebrows rose, but Tony's the one with the smile, walking towards the group with a hand out. "So you're MDC. Can't say I was expecting this. How old are you, Tinker Bell?"

"I know I don't look it, but I'm 21."

Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and the men froze. "What."

She nodded, keeping from crossing her arms. "Yeah. I can legally drink."

Tony snorted, straightening up. "I'm guessing you'd still rather not. You don't seem like the type to get black-out drunk regularly."

She shrugged, a small smile on her face. "I haven't had time, for one. And it's hard to design when drunk or hungover. Plus, I'm pretty sure that if I tried Uncle Jagged would try and join in." She could hear his voice now... "Mari, my favorite niece! Stop growin' up. Where's the time gone? So not rock n' roll of it. Next time invite me, yeah?"

She shook her head, returning to the present. "Anyway, about that commission..."

They had a very productive session- at least on Marinette's end. She got their measurements, and the lab offered nearly limitless inspiration while giving her insight to the three science nerds, giving her a taste of their likes and passions. Following sessions had her meeting most of the Avengers and growing closer to everyone in the tower, especially after she brought a few baked goodies from her apartment.

("Kid, you have a talent. Become my baker and I'll pay you half of whatever SI makes in a year." "Tony, you can't do that. I'm the CEO." "And I like designing, Mister Stark. Baking is a hobby now." Tony pouted for a month after that, the pout lessening for every treat Marinette brought. Morgan didn't take long to adopt 'Auntie Mari' into the family.)

Soon, the designs were complete and the Gala was only a day away.

Welcome to the first chapter of my fic, based on my HCs posted on this blog. This is the first chapter of (hopefully) many more, and the first multi-chapter fic I'm posting on here! Hopefully not the last, but we'll see. There's no BatFam stuff yet, but there should be an introduction next chapter! From there, I'm not sure where it'll lead, and I hope you help educate me when I make mistakes about someone's character or backstory- I'm not as knowledgeable about the DC universe as the Marvel or MLB universe, so I'd appreciate the help!

#MLB #mlb marinette #lila salt #Marinette #marinette dupen chang #tony stark #harley keener #peter parker #morgan stark #pepper stark #mlb fanfic #adrien agreste #lila rossie #alya salt #class salt #chloe bourgeois #audrey bourgeois

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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kai06leaf replied to your post:

Ended up all night, with sleep derailed by a RUDE...

Um I had asked for a link for your batman related works?:)

Oh score, this is actually weirdly timely then! FlashinthePan is my Batfam pseudonym (https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashInThePan/works), its just it hasn’t been useful for much other than to use my bookmarks page there as a fics rec list. Since the only other things still up on it are the YJ WIP I haven’t updated in a couple years and an elephant’s graveyard collection for the random ficlets I often write on here while forgetting they’re usually long enough to be actual one-shots...and that I then forget to actually add to that one, that I created for the specific purpose of putting all those in one place. My mind. Its just....*staggers at the Legend of it all*

I’ve been on a pretty committed “No more posting unfinished WIPs kick” for the past couple years but am finally at a point where I have stuff to post without cheating, so that streak officially ends today, when I finish my read-through of the first fic* in question and hit publish. “The Requiem Rites of Robins,” the ten chapter first story in an AU Battle For the Cowl fix-it series, “A Legacy of Robins,” with TRRoR being roughly 40K, focuses on Dick and Jason and their issues with each other and Bruce’s believed death, picking up and going AU at an indeterminate time not long after the end of BFTC.

Specific goals of focus with this particular fic were addressing Bruce’s bullshit last will and testament to Jason (ugh), the eternally unremarked upon moment that was Dick watching his brother refuse to take his hand and instead fall to what at the time must have seemed very likely to be Jason’s second death, in a pretty fucked up parallel to his parents’ death (ugh), various other unaddressed issues between the brothers that kept them making like they were Cain and Abel instead of two people who loved each other and very much could use each other while grieving for their father or even just pretending they weren’t....and also steadfastly jumping their combined train of events well off the tracks before Morrison’s whole...”Jason” thing ever happened at all (ugh).

Just a headsup for readers for whom certain characterizations of Bruce are a dealbreaker - full disclosure, this fic and its sequels do consider various less pleasant moments between Bruce and his two eldest to be in character and canon, with NTT #55 and the ending to UTRH the most touched upon and relevant. For what its worth, my intention there (and hopefully my execution of things) was not to vilify or bash Bruce, or to make it at all a question of whether or not both really loved Bruce and he them.

To be clear...I do categorize Bruce’s actions towards Dick and Jason at those times/specific others as abusive, but a huge part of my reason for even writing this particular fic was to explore and examine the reality of loving a parent even despite a history of actually abusive behavior on their parts. Of how to mourn for someone you loved at some times and hated at others, who was both the person who made you feel whole again and the one who made you at other times feel the most broken.

Especially when you’re two people who pride themselves on being heroes, who are ‘supposed to know’ that there’s no defense, no excuse for some of the things their father did, but that doesn’t always change or erase how much they want to. And who are both looking for an answer in the other, as to how they’re supposed to live with the fact that deep down, there’s a part of them that will always still be those ten and twelve year old orphan boys who came to believe their father was a man who could literally do the impossible...even mend what was broken, make things right with them and the world as they knew it just like he’d managed once before, when he’d first come into their lives and they’d been just as certain then that there were no more happy moments in their futures at all.

And with the both of them still, even after everything, having held onto that secret hope that someday he was going to find the secret loophole, the magic words that let them forgive him, that let them let the past all just be in the past and the future all that really mattered, that their best days as a family weren’t all behind them yet and there was still time for things to be different, for him to be different....because their dad wasn’t like other ordinary dads, their dad was the Batman, he was a superhero.....

....who was also still just a man, and sometimes men die with their most important deeds still left incomplete.

This first story is centered firmly on just Dick and Jason, because I have a tendency to let things get too widespread and expansive plot-wise the more characters I focus on, and because this first story, about mourning Bruce and finding a way to move on, needed to be just Dick and Jason, although Cass and Tim and Damian, as well as Steph and Babs and Alfred all have things in the wake of his believed death that IMO they needed explored, and that were never explored in canon. But Dick and Jason had to be the first two and a solo act except for each other, especially as this series is still geared towards Bruce’s eventual return, and just to a much different status quo....because the thing about Dick and Jason at this specific point in time, is that they were quite possibly the only two people in the world who would ever have the relationship with Bruce that they did, to see him the way they both at times did, and nobody else ever fully grasped.

They knew him at his highest and his lowest points, the best parts of him and the worst, the center of their whole universes and the destroyer of them....and for them, at this place and time, its about being forced to realize that for as much as come between them over the years, they each are the only ones who will ever fully be able to speak to the entirety of their father as not just Bruce Wayne, the Batman, the myth and the legend, but Bruce the man, the flawed father who was supposed to be better than his worst mistakes with them, because he was supposed to be a hero.

Even as close as others were to Bruce, there were specific slants to the light they saw him in....for Alfred, even when making his worst mistakes, he was still his son, for Cass he was still the father who fought her personal demon not because of what he wanted her to be but so that she could be who she wanted to be, for Tim, he was imperfect but still larger than life, the hero he’d still first only come to know through the lens of a camera from a great distance, a perspective he’d yet to entirely shake, and for Damian he was still largely a figure of make believe, a bed time story he’d been told all his life.

There’s an inherent goodness, a nobleness around the idea of Bruce for most others in his life, that defies coming face to face with the realities his failings could be.....which only Dick and Jason could ultimately attest to, as losing the ability to keep sight of that innate shine was why they’d found themselves so disillusioned by their father at the lowest points between them. And so in a lot of ways, the ultimate goal of writing this fic was trying to get Dick and Jason to a point where they could share their full, messy, complicated as hell feelings about their father with each other, but simultaneously feel a need to preserve the way each of their siblings still saw him, because the truth is that if there’d been someone who could have preserved that shine for their own eyes, to keep their memories of him clear and unobstructed by complication....they would have been glad to have been left just missing Bruce their father, and not the mess of feelings forever tied up in a Gordian knot upon by his death.

So yeah. LOL. That’s the link to my Batfam works, though there hasn’t been much on their for ages, but stay tuned for Chapter One of The Requiem Rites of Robins, later today.

“In the wild, a group of robins is called a round. But Gotham’s birds have always been of a different sort, something entirely unique. And the only proper plural for them, I’ve found, is a legacy.”

An investigation leads the newly minted Batman to London, alone and without Robin’s back-up for the trip. In the past couple months, Dick Grayson has barely found time to breathe, let alone to grieve for his father and come to terms with his new role as the Dark Knight’s successor. But his distracted state leaves him vulnerable, and when a new villain’s one-man war threatens to make a casualty of him too, he’s left with no alternative but to work side by side with his rescuer - at other times better known as his brother, his successor, and a couple times his would-be killer.

(Their family always has been one of over-achievers. And if you’re going to pick a pair of brothers to play compare and contrast against with that in mind, its hard to go wrong with something biblical.)

But Dick seeming no more happy about it than he is, doesn’t do much to pick up Jason’s mood. He’s come to London for his own reasons, and no, he’s still not inclined to share. Curiosity killed the cat, but he’s sure Selina wouldn’t mind if innate nosiness knocked off a few birds here and there as well. Well-earned paranoia aside, however, secrets and cynicism can only carry them so far when the two are forced to rely on each other to fight their way free of a city turned death-trap. Both are keenly aware that the last time they’d fought side by side like this, they’d been all the way back on the other side of Jason’s first untimely death. And as far as potential omens go, that one’s about as shitty as they come.

But a mixed curse and blessing are nothing new for them, and so that’s not just a painful reminder, but also proof that things were different once. That the brothers they’ve become were not always the brothers they were supposed to be. It was time and pain and bloody loss that weighed them both down so much further than the altitudes that came most naturally....not fate, or destiny, or even them. And as their new enemy forces them deeper and deeper below ground, it becomes all the more clear there’s only one skill in either of the brothers’ arsenals that will see them through to the other side of all this:

And only if they can not just remember, but rediscover, how to shed all of that and finally fly free again.

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m00nslippers · 5 years

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Jason is a clever bitch and I love him, in RHATO Issue #32

Okay now we’re finally moving Jason closer to the Winick version that I think is most people’s favorite Red hood--it’s not there yet, but we’re seeing the hints. The cleverness, the charm, the unrepentant sass. Oh yes, we are going places, I like what I see.

Let’s dive in here.

Whoever made that post about Jason not even needing a cover story about being dead to revive his identity was kind of prophetic because here his cover is basically, “So I wasn’t actually dead. no more details, that’s it.” Which is pretty dang close.

And I’m not sure how he managed any of this without Bruce or Alfred finding out but that is damn impressive. We know they didn’t know because we see Alfred’s reaction shot to seeing him on TV. If we don’t see him interact with a few of the other Gotham vigilantes, (or at least see a reaction shot of them all like, “What!? Jason?! The guy we had to physically blackmail to attend galas is running a casino with parties every night? That Jason?!) at some point I’m going to be pretty disappointed, to be honest.

Also, as we already knew from the solicitations and previews, Jason is taking over the Iceburg lounge and looking fancy while he does it. I love it. Jason can put on an act with the best of the batboys. Look at this well dressed man! And his hair! He has hair again, praise the Lord, hallelujah!

Completely unrelated note, that reporter has some really fancy cuff earrings or something and I’m jealous.

I’m validated for noticing Suzie Su was behind Jason in the previews. She and her sisters are part of his crew basically. It’s actually nice to see villains/characters return, too often they are just one-shot or one-note baddies but Suzie has been there since New 52 RHATO and she got a bit of humanization in the Annual when we meet her sisters. She’s not just some creepy fat lady that creeps on Jason, she’s a big sister who is trying to do her best for her family and I like that Jason acknowledges that and brings her and her family in on his scheme and even gets them out of the crime business sort-of by giving them mostly legit employment.

The way he has a bunch of ladies following him around kind of reminds me of Dick with the girls from St. Hadrian's a little bit. But they were all super into Dick and these girls don’t seem interested in Jason at all except as like a boss, which I like.

Jason, this is the kind of thing you should ask about! Ugggghh ~

Wingman looked older in the last page of the previous issue for some reason, maybe he’s died his hair or something. So we still don’t know what’s going on with him. I was hoping we’d get something, a hint but we’ve literally got nothing to go on here. I honestly think he has some kind of direct relation to Jason. Either he’s his dad’s mind in a different inmates body, or maybe a lost cousin or brother or something, or has something to do with the future like he came from there. It’s got to be one of those things, nothing else makes sense that I can think of.

LOOK AT MY BEAUTIFUL BOY! JUST LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT THOSE EYELASHES AND BLUE EYES AND THAT SMILE.

Anyone would be charmed. I think Jason is too much of an introvert to like this kind of public job exactly, but I also think he’d be good at it. Dick might be better, because he’s just a natural extrovert, but Jason is still up there. He’s a good actor, and he really cares about people so he’d take care of those he’s in charge of. Jason would be a good boss.

“Started from the bottom now we’re here,” that’s a Drake lyric.

Could these guys be bigger dorks?

Notice that Jason didn’t kill the guys that were causing trouble, he had Miggs (his nickname for Miguel) roll them off to the docks in a ball made with his powers and those dorks were totally right, the room he made was pretty gucci. You got taste, Miguel.These weren’t necessarily real bad guys, they were just punks, and Jason might be killing again but he doesn’t just kill any idiot that gets in his way or causes trouble.

Also, technically they might have been right about Night cheating, we don’t actually know how ‘legit’ the Su sisters are playing things.

I’m sort of torn on the way the colorist is depicting Miguel’s powers, like I miss the glowiness a little bit from New 52 Teen Titans. These look a little too much like normal bricks? But technically that might be better for Miguel, they can pass as normal bricks instead of a power when they have to. They looked clear or white before when the guys walked in there so maybe he can control their color/transparency and glowiness? I still would like to see them look glowy though.

A few things about Miguel: I think these panels illustrated pretty well what their dynamic is supposed to be. I know Jason called Bizarro his ‘friend’ but let’s be honest here, Bizarro isn’t Jason’s friend--he’s his little brother.

Jason compares Miguel to Bizarro and I think that’s key, he sees Miguel as like a little brother that he wants to help. He’s got powers that he doesn’t understand and people keep coming after him for them. I think with Miguel and Tim it was closer to a friendship of equals at least as far as Miguel saw. He admired and respected Tim as a leader and how he always seemed to know what to do, but in the end Miguel was older than Tim, he didn’t feel like he could completely lean on him. It looks like Miguel may have latched on to Jason in that way, since he has the bat-authority too and actually is older than him and a genuinely caring guy. And look at my boy Jason! He comforts and accepts him immediately, it’s so sweat.

Goddamn it, Jason is a good older brother! He’s the best freaking older brother, damn Bruce and the whole family’s bat-morals, man! You’re all missing this! He could have this with Tim and Damian and Duke and even Steph and Cass! He would love that! He would be so good at that! It’s a goddamn tragedy, is what it is.

Also it’s interesting how Miguel acknowledges the reboots, so are his powers related to reality-warping or something so he can sense it? Or it could just be more of this suggestion that a lot of people in the DC universe right now have memories from the previous continuity, so like it all kind of happened even if it technically didn’t type of thing. I kind of thought Miguel’s powers were energy projections made with his mind, like psionically, but maybe they are literally creating matter or something? I don’t know. I really need to read more New 52 Teen Titans to understand him and his powers.

And that line, “A loaded weapon in the hands of a confused teenager. What could go wrong?”

Wow, Jason, you really went there. Referenced you’re own crazy head-state when you went after Bruce in Under the Hood.

Jason is so self-deprecating, you guys.

“When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer. “ This is apparently a quote from Die Hard, because of course it is. Jason is literally Jake Peralta from Brooklyn 99 confirmed.

Ugh, Lobdell’s version of Bruce is just such an asshole!

First of all, Jason hasn’t ‘betrayed him’ not even once, he was emotionally compromised and broke their agreement because he was acting on those feelings. He made a mistake. And Bruce cared more about his rules than Jason’s intentions or feelings or any of the good will they’d fostered in the last year or two. He acts like Jason sold him out or lied to him, when he never did any of those things.

Also, I don’t think saying, “stay out of Gotham and never come back or I’ll throw down and toss you in Arkham” is another chance, okay? It’s not like Jason got anything out of that deal, it was just Bruce not wanting to go through the trouble of hunting him down outside of Gotham because he straight-up knew that he wouldn’t be able to!

That Pretty Woman reference...

The funny thing is, Jason is more like the character who says that line than Bruce is. Bruce, kicking Jason out of the bat-family, is the one who is making the mistake. He could have had an ally, had say in what Jason did, had some limited control over him if he’d just forgiven him or talked to him at all, but because of his pride now he has none of that.

Now this, this is my shit right here. JASON HAS BRUCE BY THE BALLS. By going public with his identity he’s effectively made himself untouchable by Bruce. He’s got the identity of every Gotham vigilante in his hands, and honestly I really doubt Jason would ever give them up, even out of spite or hatred, he never did before when he could have, (he didn’t tell Hush Bruce’s identity, he just didn’t deny it when Hush figured it out, and we’re not sure if that’s even canon anymore anyway.) but it’s partly Bruce’s own doubt in Jason that is keeping his hands tied! That and the fact that if even one of his kids is outted as a vigilante it really puts the suspicion on him.

But seriously guys. Smart Jason is what Iive for.

God, Jason calling him dad, but only because he’s ‘playing up the act’ of civilian Jason Todd, has got to hurt Bruce. Assuming Lobdell’s version of Bruce has any actual feelings of affection for Jason, otherwise it probably just grates.

Lol, okay, so the situation seems to be that Jason dropped in to the Iceburg lounge to pay Penguin a visit. Cobblepot went, “Oh no! That damned Red Hood is here, hide me!” Ran into his panic room and locked it and Jason was just like, “Well, isn’t this convenient,” and made it so he couldn’t get back out.

And then presumably gangster-rules applied and Jason just got all his businesses because he said they were his and no one wanted to argue? I guess? Lobdell doesn’t give satisfying explanations, you guys. This is a testament to that.

I’m not going to lie though, this is pretty satisfying.

Alright, so I’m really excited for more you guys. This is not a perfect issue, a lot of things are hand waved, Bruce is acting even more out of character than usual, and we still have no dang clue what’s going on with Wingman, but there are definitely things here I like, and i’m looking forward to more.

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batb1tch · 5 years

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It’s my boy’s birthday so here are some Jason Todd head-canons 🎉

Probably 3rd to last (Alfred and Bruce) on the list of ‘understanding internet slang’ in the household. He died and just sort of fell behind on the times (including memes, pop culture references,etc..) I know he’s known for making snarky quips and sarcastic comments but I have no doubt his siblings would call him out on his outdated references. It’s likely it’d really piss him off too like, knowledge is really everything to this kid and here he is with a group of teenagers who are always on top of shit (Steph, Tim, Duke, even Dick) and he doesn’t know what they’re talking about the majority of the time. Can’t figure out how to use Twitter or Snapchat and he does not have the patience to learn. It’s a genuine sore spot for him regardless of the humorous side.

Has an inner city accent that will never leave him. Still pronounce “on” like “awn” and frequently drops his r’s (which Bruce acts like he hates but really he finds it endearing.) Drops his “ing”s like “nothing” is “nothin.”

Fantastic chef, learned from the best. Very good at making something out of nothing and making it last. Steph has been showing him how to can things like fruit and vegetables. She’s basically just enabled his doomsday prepping behavior.

Speaking of, if you think Bruce is bad with the backup plans (yes there is always a b c d — z) where do you think Jay got it from? Absolutely anal about planning and contingencies. Has a backup for his backups.

Has a small hoard of books hidden in an end-table back at one of his safe houses. His favorite classics (mostly gifted by Bruce.)

Loves the smell of paper.

Definitely could use them but refuses to get glasses. Babs teases him for his squinting when she gets the chance.

“Just join the club book-worm, promise it won’t ruin your badass reputation.”

Jason ~squinting~ “I’d rather die....again.”

Collects cool bookmarks.

Definitely names his guns.

Favorite meal is literally any Spanish/Mexican dish followed by a good chili dog & a coke.

Can pack away enough food to feed a horse and keep going, not even Bruce knows how he does it. Alfred acts like he’s a pain in the ass to cook for but loves feeding him anyways. “You’ll eat us out of house and home someday my dear boy, good god.”

While we’re at it, he is 100% taller and wider than Bruce. You might think it makes Bruce a bit uncomfortable when standing right next to him (I mean...it does lol) but he absolutely loves when Jay throws his weight around because the malnourished string-bean of a child that he met on the street could now powerlift a small automobile and he is so fucking proud and happy that he grew up to be big and healthy (that he managed to grow up AT ALL mind you) how could he be mad? He probably tears up at the dinner table after Jay fills his plate for 4th time that evening and still intends to stay for dessert because he loVES HIM.

His feet definitely hang off the end of his bed by like, the shins because his room only has a full compared to everyone else’s king/queen. It never got upgraded when he hit puberty (because he was dead) and then he wouldn’t let anyone change it once he came back because that’s his bed “don’t fucking touch it I still fit just fine.” (Even though he’s like 22 and there’s a dip in the mattress that could put the Grand Canyon to shame.)

Still has a picture of Catherine hidden away. Visits her grave on the anniversary and always brings her favorite flowers (Lillie’s.)

His hands get cold really easily and they’re always dry/calloused.

Snores. Loudly.

The Lazarus pit did NoT heal his autopsy scar that shit is there for life and it is big and it is ugly. He doesn’t like taking his shirt off because of it and the look on Bruce’s face when he sees it could strip wallpaper.

Stopped dying the lock of white hair on his head.

Has spring allergies that turn him into a giant snotting watery eyed whiny baby.

He’s claustrophobic and not a fan of the dark. It’s why his helmet has night vision.

(While we’re at it, that helmet has to be the equivalent of like, iron mans on the inside. Definitely has built in comms, scopes, analysis systems, navigation, etc etc. the WORKS. whICH he designed and created himself because he’s brilliant.) (Actually Roy might have helped a little but don’t tell him that.)

Has a work-in-progress bike in the cave that hasn’t been finished for over 2 years and it will never be finished because he uses it as an excuse to hangout and spend time with Bruce. Drives Steph crazy to see it sit there but she gets it.

During his first Thanksgiving with Bruce and Alfred he cried for 15 minutes before dinner (which he’s still embarrassed about to this day) and then ate until he literally puked. He hasnt missed many Thanksgivings since he died.

TERRIBLE at 1st-person-shooters and super pissed about it.

“That’s not even realistic, an HK-416 doesn’t even have a 200 round drum. It’s bonkers! It’s madness Tim!”

“Shut the fuck up Jason you haven’t even been facing the right way since we started.”

(He’ll stick to Space Invaders and Mario fuck you very much.)

Really good at piano. Bruce asked him to start playing seriously when he moved in because “learning a musical instrument teaches self -discipline and versatility” but really it’s because one day during his Robin years Jay sat down and started plinking on the keys to a song he learned at the public youth-center on the “old shitty out of tune” wood one they had and it just happened to be a song Martha used to play Bruce all the time. He wanted to hear it fill the halls again.

Gets in a screaming match with Bruce nowadays and instead of lighting up one of Penguin’s underground casinos (like he might of used to 👀) he’ll disappear for a month to cool down. You can always tell when he gets over it though because he sends the family a postcard from wherever he is in the world. (Alfred puts them all on the fridge.)

Pit symptoms used to (and occasionally still do) include horrific night terrors, black-out rage, and brief moments of hallucinations or flashbacks. He had to relive the period of time shortly after he was pulled out through graphic and warped recollections (typically after not getting enough sleep or engaging in physical altercations.) He really only started to work through this after Ducra had suggested keeping a log and writing down everything he could remember. After a time he was able to piece together the things he had experienced or done (mostly to others) and as awful and horrible as knowing may have been, he could at least start to move on.

The more time he spent with Damian after he came back the more he could remember as well. He will occasionally speak to him in Arabic & not even realize he’s doing it (which scares the pants of Dames, himself, and Bruce.)

He does feel closer to the little gremlin because of it though. Talia likely had him as a baby with her the majority of the time after he was born and Jay was recovering/training, so he spent a substantial amount of time with both of them.

Bruce bought him a kindle for Christmas one of the first years he was back and he was (and still is but don’t tell the old man that) elated.

Occasionally mumbles in his sleep, usually in a variety of languages.

He does smoke, mostly only when he gets stressed out (because everyone reams him for it otherwise.) You’d think it’s a rebellious street kid thing but it’s actually because Catherine used to smoke the same brand and the smell reminds him of her.

His shoe size is a 13.

The time shortly after he crawled out of his own grave he could see ghosts (and I’m talking straight up dead people.) He can’t recall much of this or the time spent actually deceased (even after his dunk in the pit) but even now he’ll see things move out of the corner of his eye or get cold chills or feel like he’s being watched. When he hasn’t slept for like, 4 days and is bordering on manic depressive and harmful behavior, he starts seeing them again. Constantine prob finds him real interesting.

My guess is that he did see Catherine when he died but overall ended up in some sort of purgatory-like state which he can’t recall.

When he blushes it’s the hollows of his cheeks, back of the ears and neck and all the way down the front of his chest. The autopsy scar shows up white against it.

Has those hands that no matter how many times he washes them the oil/gun cleaner doesn’t come out of the cracks. Looks like a mechanic.

Tends to wear thicker work/type clothing like carhart fireproof pants and boots. Obviously his jacket too.

Not a fan of cold weather at all. His nose and cheek get really red and he shivers (as unmanly as that is)

OCD. His apartments are spotless, weapons and ammunition categorized and logged, etc.

Had asthma as a child and sort of grew out of it but sometimes his endurance suffers as an adult because of it.

Has this particular phone case 💀

#jason todd #jason peter todd #dc #batfam #red hood

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bandsanitizer · 6 years

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FIC RANT TIME BECAUSE GUESS WHO DEDCIED TO READ 20K+ WORDS INSTEAD OF SLEEPING OR WRITING OR STUDYING??? me ;)

Hey so I read a fanfic and I couldn’t fit everything I needed to say in an ask, so here’s the fic reaction post that tends to occur after I read the most amazing of fics.

As per usually, this is NOT A SPOILER FREE POST.

(In two ways ahahahahah Because Stephanie Brown is mentioned and I can’t be excited over and review a fic without including spoilers)

Now back to the actual point...

“EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING” by @grxysxns IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING IN THE WORLD

IT IS FIVE CHAPTERS, 21376 WORDS, OF PURE GOLD AND ANGST AND DICK GRAYSON (who I love so so so much)

Okay but seriously? It was beautiful from beginning to end and slowly this will be a more coherent post as I calm down, but as of starting this I kind of just finished reading the entire thing at 2:30AM.

Can I just say Birdflash is my favorite and I absolutely love Dick Grayson? Especially stories that really portray the “oldest sibling” side of him in a way that isn’t perfect.

This story does that.

first off, the concept of the AU is a fantastic one and it’s... It’s really interesting? Because Bruce Wayne/Batman is an extreme person who is prepared for everything and anything. There’s a reason he has his contingency plans and knows the weaknesses of the people he’s meant to trust, the people he works and fights alongside. This AU really kicks it up a notch but in such a Bruce way? Like only Bruce Wayne would be like “I LOVE YOU KIDS so you’re not allowed to tell anyone who you are”

I mean, that’s a really simplistic view of it, but the idea of keeping your loved ones safe through not the best of plans, is such a Bruce Wayne move that this AU hardly feels absurd or something so... out of the box. It’s also really creative though and I think it’s a fantastic idea. I will cherish this AU for the rest of life i s2g.

REMINDER: SPOILER ALERT!!!! (go read the fic and come back)

Now onto the Batfam.

@grxysxns Your writing of the characters were amazing??????? I LOVE YOUR CHARACTERIZATION OF DICK GRAYSON AND I WILL SCREAM IT FROM THE ROOF TOPS!!!!!! The way you write Tim is superb. I also do like how you wrote the rest of the batfam (even though there wasn’t everyone necessarily, the idea of family was there). Sure, like other fanfic writers, there was some glossing over of the tensions between Jason and the rest of them and maybe some of the other members BUT IN THE CONTEXT OF THE STORY IT WORKS SO WELL AND I CANT REALLY COMPLAIN

Dick takes on so much and he does this thing where he acts strong for the people he loves and the people he wants to protect. The way you wrote that was stunning. I love the balance of you showcasing how much Dick was doing and how much Dick was screwing up. I like the contrast between the things superhero working out with things falling apart with Wally and then sort of a switch later on. I love when writers capture the good and the bad that comes with Dick Grayson trying to take the world on his shoulders for the sake of his family (specifically his younger siblings). I also love how vulnerable and just broken he seemed, which I know sounds bad, but I love me some Angst™️ yknow? This story has a perfect balance of that and happy endings that are too happy, but just right. A nice ending that feels like a happy batfam yknow?

To be honest, I could go on forever about your characterization of Dick Grayson. !!!!!!! Your showcasing of his infamous anger was not missed and I love it! You included his flaws but showed him being great too and that’s !!!!! The best

As for Tim, holy shit, I love the way your wrote Tim, especially his transition out of Robin. Like, it’s not from Tim’s point of view but I LOVE COMMUNICATION AND DICK SITTING DOWN TO HELP TIM WITH THE MESS OF TIM NO LONGER BEING ROBIN AND DICK REALLY MAKING SURE TIM KNOWS THAT DICK ISNT REPLACING HIM AND THAT TIM IS SO SO SPECIAL AND SO SO LOVED!!!! Also their brotherly interactions about Kon were just ... so beautiful *cries*

Damian was great too??? I like the balance of “from the league of assassins” and “still a kid” that was there. I appreciate that moment where Damian’s just so unsure and Dick’s like “over my dead body” because I just love dick!bats and dami!robin?????? I mean Dick!Bats alone isn’t a favorite of mine, but Dick and Damian have this dynamic that I really like and I think you captured their relationship quite amazingly. (I’m sorry I lack a large vocabulary so my adjectives might repeat)

Then with Cass and the signing... It’s not huge but I love it so much.

Also the hints of Babs and Steph, I love them, but the way you wrote their lack of presence was powerful, too, because I think the distance portrayed really fits how they’d handle everything and despite anything to the contrary, I feel like Dick really does understand his siblings enough to know which ones need the daily check ups and which ones need the prolonged space, until they’re ready. (Tim and Cass vs Steph and Jason) And both are good and fine and did I mention I LOVE YOU AND THE WAY YOU WROTE THE BATFAM????

Plus the whole Dick watching everyone move on while he’s busy living the life of his dead father, was a really intriguing contrast that I found unique and interesting. I like the depth of Dick’s distain for being Batman extending beyond the fact that it’s the opposite of everything he tried as Nightwing. It’s also tying to something he knows he needs to move on from and I just love how you wrote it.

And Jason? My god the ending part was great. I liked the interaction and I like the way Jason shooting those guys was handled, because to some degree, I do believe that between Dick and Bruce there are difference in their beliefs in the whole “don’t kill” code. I think it’s be in character, especially for a stressed and tired and hurt, Dick Grayson to overlook it a bit for the sake of family and just cos it’s not the most pressing issue. Idk Bruce might, but Dick Grayson screams family and I love his interaction with Jason

And now to the bIRDFLASH!!!!!!!! Let me tell you, this will FOREVER be my favorite Birdflash fanfic. Okay so like there’s always a chance you’ll write something more amazing, but this is, by far, one of the greatest fanfics I have ever read. It’s beautifully constructed, well planned, has great emotions, and a nice balance of “IMMA MAKE YOU CRY” and “HERE LAUGH YOUR ASS OFF”

Okay anyways, Birdflash.

WALLY WEST, MY BABY, BEING SO KIND AND SOFT AND UNDERSTANDING (generally speaking) WAS BEAUTIFUL!

CONSENT! IS! IMPORTANT! and even if Dick wasn’t necessarily deterred by those kinds of things and more for the sake of keeping up the lie, I really appreciate how much Wally listened and just had basic! human! decency! It was beautiful and soft and just ... so breathtaking

I love soft birdflash yknow?

AND THEN THE ANGST! The whole Dick “learning” Wally’s the Flash and the guilt from Dick and the later misunderstandings and the eventual truth telling... It was excellently crafted in my opinion. It’s a cliché to have the whole superhero and “oh no are they cheating?!” but you wrote it so amazingly and then Wally calling Dick the next day with understanding and apology was refreshing and really sweet.

WALLY REASSURING DICK HE LOVES HIM AND YET ASKING FOR SPACE IS ALSO THE BEST!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HOW YOU WROTE THIS SCENE SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH BECAUSE ITS SO SWEET BUT SO REAL AND GENUINE! It’s realistic to have Wally express love and care but also need space, while Dick gets why Wally needs space but kind of wishes Wally could stay. It’s a lovely balance and I’m so in love with your writing.

Finally, the ending. Which basically is great because I love Robins (and any batkid really) not taking Bruce’s shit. Like him telling Clark and Diana I understand, but then forcing Dick and the rest of them to stick to the gag-order... Not his best move. Yet, like the kids, you can understand part of where he came from... And I like that. I also love how you wrote the scene like...

Bruce: WTF?

Kon: 0.0

Wally: 0.0

Tim: uh...

Dick: *comes running in, but like more hobbling* hI YES I DID IT NOW FIGHT ME BROOSE

Damian: *running in after* You cannot be fighting, Grayson!

So a little off, but main idea: Big Brother Dick Grayson, Protective Damian, Cute TimKon, and Wally “What’s happening?” West.

Overall, what I am trying to say is that this story was a phenomenal read and by far one of my favorites across all fandoms and ships. It stands out as one of the best that I’ve read, in terms of characterization of Dick Grayson and his relationships with the other batfam members. The writing of Dick and Wally’s relationship was stunning and this is definitely one of those fanfics I’ll always find myself coming back to read.

You’re an amazing author and I hope to read more of your writing! This piece had me in awe from start to end and I just... Just Thank you? For writing something so amazing and interesting and balanced.

Seriously, “Every Fiber of My Being” is wonderful, so well written, and a really special type of AU that leaves you with a little sense of “What do you mean this isn’t canon?”

“Every Fiber of My Being” by @grxysxns is a fantastic Birdflash/Batfam AU, that really hits all your Dick Grayson feels with a loving handful of soft and caring Birdflash. GO AND READ IT!!! AND THEN EXPRESS YOUR LOVE TO THE AUTHOR!!!

Also this is intended both as a reaction, a love letter to the author, and a rec for people who haven’t read it, and I apologize for how confusing this might’ve been. But wow, there were hardly enough words to explain the way I feel about this particular fanfic.

#fic reaction

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lusilly · 6 years

Text

Wings

What good is this ridiculous secret I am asked to keep? With the feathers ripped cleanly away, I tuck the stems along my spine. I bandage them down— cloth wound under my armpits, tightly wound around my chest. I fashion myself into an ordinary boy.

- An Ordinary Boy, C. Dale Young

finally this is fucking done. it was so hard and it’s not even good but it does bridge the damian/talia relationship between home safe & tucked away and fiat iusticia, as well as set up more of leviathan. this fic is Steeped in e28 canon tbh, references to rise of arsenal, restoration, to be seen, tbatb, and some distant set up for wheel in the sky (oh and the disneyland fic). tho ultimately it can also hold up on its own!

in which damian sees his mother for the first time in nearly a decade, and gets his spine ripped out (again). jason is there, tho he doesn’t do much.

on ao3 here

The safehouse by the docks was Jason’s least favorite. Little more than a glorified attic crawlspace, it was one bare room with a plain mattress in the corner, shelves of medical supplies, nonperishables, and weaponry covering the walls. Jason had to stoop to get in through the entrance, and the ceilings were so low he always found himself dropping his shoulders, lowering his head and curving his spine against the claustrophobia. It made his heart race, his pulse quickening for unknown reasons. He figured it out eventually, during an extended stay after he almost got shot to death. In the middle of the night he’d woken up with his chest tight and heavy, like steel wires wrapping around his lungs and heart. Coffin, he’d thought. Feels like a coffin.

On this particular night, in the suffocating heat of the last throes of summertime, Jason had been stitching up a shoulder wound when an old comm rang, a line he’d thought had been long since disconnected.

Answering it felt strangely familiar, like slipping into old clothes he hadn’t fully expected to still fit. He didn’t want to run it through his commlink in case Oracle was listening in, so he put the old comm on speaker and set it down beside him as he tugged surgical needle through the wound in his shoulder. “How do you expect me to know?” he asked, sounding slightly impatient. “I’m only there for Hanukkah and Alfred’s birthday.”

On the phone, Talia’s voice was tinny and distorted, but still as characteristically haughty as he had always known her to be. “Don’t lie to me, Jason,” she said sharply, like an accusation. “I know you have a relationship with my son.”

“A relationship?” he echoed, wiping the wound with a rag and turning around to take a swig of whiskey. He dragged his arm across his mouth, then admitted, “I mean, sure. Legally speaking he’s my little brother, but that doesn’t mean we get brunch on Sundays and gossip.”

Talia let out a very derisive grunt of laughter at the word brother, which Jason politely decided to ignore. “You owe it to me.”

“Oh, do I?” asked Jay, his tone mild as he disinfected the wound, which burned badly. “How long am I gonna hang on to that debt, Talia?”

“Until it’s repaid,” she said shortly. “This is the second time I have asked for your help where it concerns my son. Don’t disappoint me again.”

“Is the first time back when you asked me to kidnap him?” Something like four years ago Talia had been desperate to get Damian back for reasons she’d never fully explained to Jason.

“Not kidnap. Retrieve.”

“Listen,” said Jason, wiping his hands on a rag, then picking up the communicator. “I know that – y’know, I know that you and I have a few very specific things in common, so I see why you think you can come to me for this, but if you’ve got beef with Bruce you need to talk to him directly. I’m not gonna be your henchman. I’m not henching for you, T.”

“It isn’t safe for him in Gotham. I’m asking you to help me protect my child, it has nothing to do with the Batman-”

“Didn’t say that,” said Jay, cutting her off. “I said Bruce, actually-”

“Do not interrupt me,” she said coldly, and even through the distorted comm line her voice sent a chill down Jason’s spine. “You, like his father, think me so petty and possessive. You think I want to own him. He is not a pet, and you are all so quick to forget it was I who gave him away to begin with.”

“OK,” sighed Jason, swinging his legs up to lay down on the shitty mattress. “You do know that talking about giving him away sounds like he is a pet and you are possessive, right?”

“I am trying,” she insisted, “to protect him.”

“From what?”

Talia’s line went so silent Jason thought she’d closed the line. He called her name, and when she responded, her words were clipped and wary. “There are always threats, Jason.”

“Sure,” agreed Jay, nodding his head. “Don’t have to tell me. Why do you think Bruce can’t handle it? He’s done a halfway decent job of taking care of his boy this far.”

This obviously rankled Talia. “My boy.”

Jason let out a little chuckle. “Not really helping the whole possessive angle.”

“It doesn’t matter. It has been brought to my attention that Damian has returned to the streets, and what he doesn’t know could get him killed.”

“So tell me,” said Jay. “I’ll tell him.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” said Talia, icily, “you are not my son. Some things must stay within the family.”

“I’m family. On the other side, that is.”

The idea was a little disconcerting to Jason, though, so he was glad when Talia ignored this comment. “My son is no longer a child,” she said, firm and regal. Jason could imagine her standing alone on the craggy bluffs beyond her headquarters, though he didn’t know for certain where she was today. He imagined the white cliffs of southern England, or the Rock of Gibraltar, or maybe the rooftop floor of the Burj Khalifa, or some cold outcropping in the Himalayas. Then he thought of Damian, sullen and irritable Damian, with whom Jason had somehow grown pretty close over the past year. Though he said nothing, Jason had to disagree with Talia. Damian was absolutely still a child. “His father cannot keep him locked away from me on his whim,” Talia continued. “If Damian will see me, it is his decision.”

“A decision he’d be more inclined to make if you gave him all the information,” Jason pointed out. “Best way to get a Robin’s attention is to give him a mission. Tell me what’s up and I’ll do what I can.”

“I want to see him, Jason.”

“I understand that. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

“I need to see him. Not a call, not a letter, I need him here. With me.”

“No promises,” repeated Jay. “Where’s here?”

“I will send you the coordinates.”

Jason sighed. “Guess that’s the best I’ll get. I’ll talk to him. But again, he’s your son, so he can be just as stubborn as your ass. He probably won’t even listen to me.”

“I listen to you,” countered Talia. “And you’re right. He is my son.”

There was a short silence.

Talia said, “Thank you, Jason,” and terminated the connection.

For a few minutes, Jay laid there on the mattress, the wound on his shoulder stinging. Then he let out a short sigh, and he opened another line on his commlink.

His call was instantly acknowledged. “Oracle,” came her voice.

“Hey, O,” said Jay. “You got a read on Robin?”

“If you need backup, Ember’s in the area.”

This took Jason by surprise; he hadn’t known Ember was cleared to work as official backup. He’d thought her and her team were still considered amateurs. “Nah, I’m good. I gotta talk to him about something.”

“Little late for that,” Barbara replied. “He’s in for the night.”

It was almost three AM. “Oh, damn. Already?”

“He’s only been back in the saddle for a few months now, so he’s taking it easy. Usually heads in by two.”

“OK,” sighed Jay. “Guess I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Thanks anyway.”

He closed the line, grimacing. Sure, Jason had grown closer with his youngest brother over the past few years, but in that time the topic of Damian’s mother had come up maybe once. He knew it was a sore spot for the kid, and he didn’t want to poke an old bruise, particularly not when he was just beginning to get back on his feet. Damian was returning to Robin after a difficult year. Jason had no desire to interrupt his rhythm, make him lose his balance.

And he certainly wasn’t going to kidnap Damian. If he didn’t want to see Talia, Jay wouldn’t make him; but Talia had had a point. Bruce’s feelings where Damian’s mother was concerned were clear, and he would categorically refuse to let Damian see her. He'd have a better chance to speak freely if Jay could get him out of the house, talk to him somewhere he wouldn’t feel pressured to put on that performative al Ghul hatred, where his loyalty to his father’s family would be less airtight.

Flipping through options vaguely in his mind, Jason looked at his phone. He had a few calendar notifications, mostly about dinner with Tam so he wouldn’t forget, a few reminders to collect money from his lieutenants, and then he stopped, staring at a upcoming reminder for next week. An idea crept up in the back of his mind.

All of this led up to Jason coming down the steps from the Manor three days after Damian’s nineteenth birthday, which according to Dick apparently wasn’t even his precise date of birth, though Jay wasn’t really clear on the mechanics of that whole business. Upstairs, Alfred had offered him a slice of leftover birthday cake.

Bruce didn’t turn around when Jason entered the cave, which didn’t surprise him. But not for nothing, Bruce had been putting in some decent effort for a while now to invite Jay back into the family, taking great care to include him in family events, even going so far as try to have the occasional heart-to-heart. Serious conversations always wound up flat or devolved into an argument, so though Bruce had toned it down, Jason thought that all things considered they were on exceptionally good terms.

“You and Damian leave tonight?” asked Bruce, without turning around from the computer display before him.

“Yep,” answered Jay, lingering by the specimen analysis table. “As soon as he’s ready.”

Bruce took pause; it was unlike Damian to be tardy to something he’d be anticipating. “He’s not finished packing?”

“He is,” said Jay mildly, poking around at the delicate equipment. “I think I just caught him in the middle of the nap. I’ll give him a minute.”

This made sense, so Bruce gave a short nod. “He’s having some trouble adapting to the new schedule. I’ve asked him to dial back on his work with Neon Knights, but he won’t hear it.” There was also the fact that Damian had recently changed his medication, and as such was struggling to get use to the side effects, one of which being near constant drowsiness. But Bruce didn’t think that was his information to share.

“Oh, yeah,” said Jay, glancing up at Bruce. “Tam says he’s doing great. Says she’s about ready to recommend him for a promotion.”

In a very uncharacteristic admission, Bruce bowed his head in acknowledgement and said, “We’re very proud of him.” The royal We, Jason thought, because saying I would be way too personal for the Batman. Bruce paused, then asked, “How is Tamara?”

This took Jay aback, but he rolled with it. “She’s good,” he said. “Yeah. I heard you had a conversation with Lucius, uh, thanks for that. We,” We, guess Jason wasn’t ready for that level of personal connection either, “appreciate it.”

But Bruce had nothing to say to this: he merely nodded without looking away from the computer. “When will you be back?”

“Friday at the latest,” answered Jay. “Probably sooner, knowing him.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t hope that this is actually a secret trip to Disneyland, like last time.”

“No,” laughed Jay, leaning back against the table. “I don’t have Cass’s sense of humor, unfortunately. I might hit her up and see if she wants to get in on this, though.”

“She’s got her own assignments.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure it gets lonely all the way out in Hong Kong. She might like a change of scenery.”

Bruce could not argue with this. Turning slightly in his seat, finally glancing away from the computer, he eyed Jason.

“Be careful,” he said. “Keep him safe.”

“It’s the other way around,” countered Jay, shaking his head. “He’s a whole lot better than I am, he’ll be looking out for my ass.”

“Jason.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “I won’t let him jump in front of a bullet for me, or anything. Don’t worry, Bruce,” he said, with a tight grin. “I’ve got a pretty good track record when it comes to getting my partners out alive,” far above them, he heard the sound of the secret door from the grandfather clock slip open and closed, “unlike some people I could name.”

If Bruce had a response to that, he was silenced by Damian coming down the stairs. “Jason,” he barked, from three quarters of the way down. “Are we going?”

“Sure,” said Jay, getting up. “Bruce,” he said, nodding at the older man, offering him a one-handed salute.

He headed up the stairs, and Damian turned to follow him. But then Bruce called, “Damian.”

Jay turned around to catch Damian’s gaze. He rolled his eyes, and then he held up his index finger to Jay, as if to indication, One moment.

He turned around. “Yes?”

Bruce gestured with one hand, motioning for Damian to come over to him. Though he let out a little sigh of annoyance, he did so dutifully, descending the rest of the steps and crossing over to the computer station. Jason turned away casually, pretending he wasn’t straining his ears to hear what was being exchanged between Bruce and his favorite son (maybe second favorite – Dick still ranked pretty high up there).

But Bruce had mastered the art of speaking low enough not to be heard, and Jay could not make out words from the quiet burr of his voice across the Cave. He could hear Damian, though. “Yes. I will. When I get back, yes. Of course.”

Then Bruce cocked his head slightly, as if to say Go, and Damian jogged back across the Cave, skipping steps on his way up. “Let’s go,” he said to Jay, as he passed him.

They took one of the jets, Jason in the pilot’s seat, Damian beside him. When Jay headed due east, Damian asked, “So this isn’t a secret Disneyland trip?”

Jay laughed. “You know what? Your dad said that same exact thing. Nah, I’m not as fun as Cass.”

Peering out at the sky before them, Damian reminded him, “As I recall, you were there too.”

“Yeah, 'cause she asked me to come.” He glanced around at Damian. “Why? Would you prefer that to a real mission?”

“No,” answered Damian shortly. “I was prepared to be disappointed, is all. Besides, I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

Shooting a grin over at Damian, Jay asked, “In me? To do what?”

“To take me home,” said Damian mildly, without looking back at him.

The temperature in the cabin instantly dropped. Jason said nothing, but he looked over at Damian again, concern knit across his brow. There was a loaded silence.

Then, carefully, Jay began, “Damian…I’m not – of course I’m not gonna-”

“What?” asked Damian, arching an eyebrow at Jason. “Do you think I don’t know the locations of all my mother’s bases? Did you think I wouldn’t put two and two together when I saw your coordinates?”

“Listen, I’m not taking you back to her, that’s not why I did this-”

“I know you know her,” said Damian dispassionately, studying Jason’s face. “I don’t know how, but I know you do. Better than Dick does, anyhow.” Jay struggled to come up with a reply to this, and Damian asked, “Is she looking for me?”

For a long moment, Jason didn’t answer. And then, grimly, he peered out at the sky before them. “She says she just wants to talk.”

“Yes. Because we make a habit of taking supervillains at their word.”

“She’s your mom, Damian. She’s just trying to look out for you, she says you’re in danger or something, and she can help.”

“Textbook manipulation, Jason,” Damian told him, sounding almost bored. “She’s manufacturing a threat to make herself look like my savior. You really shouldn’t fall for it.”

“Look,” said Jay, his grip tight on the controls. “I’m not taking you back to her. I’m taking you on a mission that happens to be a little close to one of her compounds. She called me and told me she wanted to talk to you, so I thought I’d give you the option. If you didn’t want to, we were gonna take care of the mission and go straight back home.” He added, “To Gotham.” When Damian said nothing, Jay glanced at him. “Damian,” he said. “I’m not either of your parents, I’m not gonna make any decisions for you. I just thought maybe you’d like the chance to decide for yourself, without your dad breathing down your neck.”

“You think he doesn’t know?” asked Damian sharply. “He’s been keeping track of her for years.”

“That would be why I gave him false coordinates."

“And you think he didn’t see right through that?”

“I think if he had any suspicion at all that I was willingly putting you in danger, he wouldn’t have let you leave the goddamn house. So I don’t know, maybe. But he decided to trust me anyway.” Jason paused, glanced at Damian. “Maybe you should try it.”

With his arms defiantly crossed, Damian said, “Not when you manufacture some pretend mission to get me back on her radar.”

“It isn’t pretend, it checks out.”

“She certainly would orchestrate it so you’d think it did.”

“You don’t want to do this?” demanded Jay, glancing back at Damian. “’Cause if you don’t, fine, I’ll turn this around, or maybe we’ll keep going ‘til we reach Hong Kong or something and we can hang out with Cass. That’s fine by me, all I wanted to do was give you some time away from your dad.”

“I already had that,” said Damian sharply. “Didn’t he tell you I went to London?”

“London?” echoed Jason doubtfully. “Everyone and their brother knows that was a cover, though I don't got any idea for what. You didn’t talk to your mom then, did you?”

“No,” said Damian stonily. “I haven’t spoken to her since before my father came back.”

“What, from being fake dead? That’s a long-ass time.”

Damian didn’t answer this. He looked away, busying himself with a display panel before him. After some time, he looked back up and asked, “What’s the mission?”

“It’s a trafficking deal,” said Jay, without hesitation. “Your specialty. Would’ve invited Arsenal to help but I heard you and her had kind of a falling-out.”

“She did try to kill me,” said Damian coldly.

“Way I heard it, you all tried to kill each other,” countered Jay. “By way of an angry supervillain mom who wasn’t your own.”

“Got to change it up occasionally,” said Damian, leaning back in his seat. “Keep things exciting.”

They said nothing more for a moment. Jay didn’t know all the details of what happened with the Titans, but he did know that Damian left them all – including his first girlfriend – in a bad way. “Well,” sighed Jay. “Like I said. If you don’t want to do this, we can turn back around.”

For quite some time, Damian said nothing. He seemed agitated, though it was nothing compared to toxic pit of anger and aggression he’d been this time last year, right after things fell apart with the Titans. Jason hadn’t been around for much of that, but he knew that Dick had to come home for a few months to help Bruce, and that whatever Damian did resulted in him being banned from patrol for almost a year. Jay badly wanted to know what had gone down, but he had no desire to poke the bear, and Tim had only given him a shrug, claiming he didn’t know anything. “Something about going on a bender,” he’d said, from behind his desk in Wayne Tower, focused on the computer screen before him. Jay had thought Tam, for whom Damian interned over the past year, might know something, but she too came up empty-handed.

Finally, after so long Jason thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all, Damian asked shortly, “What are the mission details?”

“Human trafficking ring in the Caucasus,” Jay answered immediately. “They funnel into the European sex trade, mostly refugees and people looking to get out of poverty or war-torn areas.” He glanced at Damian, who looked unhappy. He knew this was the type of mission Damian – hell, Robin – couldn’t turn down. “Got a big detainment center in the mountains, a bottleneck into the continent. That’s where we’re headed.”

“Their center of operations?”

“I mean, corporate HQ is probably some rich asshole in the financial district of some fancy European city or something,” Jay said fairly. “But this is their main hidey-hole, and hitting it is gonna eat up their time and money while we hand over the evidence to Interpol.”

Damian nodded; it made sense to target wherever the most people were being held. Rescue was the top priority. “Security?”

“Not exactly high-tech, but plenty of goons to punch. Should be a breeze.” Damian didn’t say anything, so Jay continued, “And then we pack up and leave. Back to Gotham before you know it.”

“What about my mother?” asked Damian. He sounded annoyed.

Jay shrugged. “We don’t see her. It’s fine, I told you I wouldn’t make you.”

“Maybe I want to.”

Glancing at Damian, Jay began uncertainly, “OK. I’m starting to get some mixed signals here, kiddo.”

Still irritated, Damian gave an emphatic shake of his head. “I don’t – not want to see her. It’s been almost a decade.” He broke off abruptly, his jaw tightly clenched. Refusing to look around at Jay, he muttered, “I’d just like it to be on my own terms.”

“Yeah,” said Jay immediately, nodding. “Sure, that makes sense. I’m sorry, I should’a told you all of this before we left, I just thought if Bruce found out he’d make that decision for you. I thought you deserved more than that.”

“She shouldn’t have had to go through you to begin with.”

“Maybe not,” answered Jay. “But what else was she supposed to do? Bruce won’t even listen to her.”

“She could have contacted me directly.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Damian shot back, venom in his voice. “But I’m nineteen now, not twelve. There’s no reason she should have to go through daddy to get to me.”

There was something fundamentally funny about Damian referring to Bruce, even derisively, as daddy, but Jay stopped himself from saying anything. “Listen, I don’t know what she's thinking,” he replied plainly. “I can’t answer for her.” He paused, then added, “But if you do want to see her, when we get there. I can ask her to meet us at a safehouse or something. Our terms, not hers.” He glanced at Damian. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Damian let out a sigh of resignation, peering out the display before them. “Fine,” he said. “Let me think on it.”

Jason did so, saying nothing more for the remainder of the journey.

When they arrived, Jay took them to a safehouse in the mountains. Entering through a secret door, visible dislike was evident on Damian’s face for reasons that Jay couldn’t discern, but which had to do with the memory of a mountain safehouse much like this one, and the ache of broken ribs and a broken friendship with Lian Harper. They scouted the location, found it teeming with activity, and laid out a plan for the next day. At nine PM Eastern Time, an alarm went off on Damian’s phone, and he went back into his quarters and rooted around until he pulled out something that rattled like a pill bottle.

Everyone in the immediate Batfamily was aware that Damian had been in treatment for his OCD for years now, though Jay had always gotten the feeling he’d been the last to find out. Ultimately it had been Alfred who told him, a few months after Damian received an official diagnosis of PTSD. “What?” Jason had asked, almost in disbelief. “How? From what?”

“I imagine a great number of things could trigger post-traumatic stress, Jason,” Alfred had replied, assembling cucumber sandwiches. “I imagine that I don’t have to tell that to any of you boys. You, especially.”

As always, Jason didn’t want to talk about that, didn’t want to acknowledge the big dead elephant in the room. Ever since he died, his entire life had been centered around death, revolving around the horror and the trauma and the anger it had stirred up inside of him. The thought of getting treatment – getting better, which seemed impossible because there was no better this was just the way he was now – frightened him.

The Damian Jay knew was surly, occasionally depressive, and almost as obsessive as his father. He wondered what the fuck the kid was like when he was unmedicated.

Damian slept soundly for a solid eight hours. Jason, who slept lightly and rarely for more than a few hours at a time, passed the time on his own, poring over files, bouncing a ball against the wall, clicking through some shitty Azerbaijani television. When night fell the next day, they took off in an off-road Jeep. “You draw fire,” said Damian. “I’ll go in and disable defense inside. Then we rendezvous and take them out.”

“Sounds good,” answered Jay. “Let’s go, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me that,” said Damian.

Doing exactly as Damian said, Jay made a big noise and fuss to draw most of the guards out to the front of the compound, allowing Damian to enter unnoticed. Damian wound through the dark corridors, finding the ceiling oppressively low. He encountered far fewer obstacles than he’d anticipated; more men had apparently been attracted to Jason’s diversion than he thought. Or maybe there was something else going on. It unsettled him, made him cautious and slow.

He reached a large steel door, industrial-looking. It brought back memories from a similar mission years ago, which brought back memories of Lian, which brought back the Titans which brought back Iris which made him feel bad again, so he merely broke the padlock on the door and tugged hard.

It rolled open. To his surprise, the room was well-lit inside, fluorescent lights buzzing on the ceiling, revealing several rows of bunkbeds as if military barracks. Damian’s stomach lurched only slightly, because as terrible as the sight of kidnapped children handcuffed to their beds could be, this was already not as bad as he had anticipated. They looked up at him vacantly, making no sound when he entered the room. None of them could have been any older than fifteen.

The first thing he did – the first thing always to be done when rescuing abused children – was put his hands up, displaying no weapon nor intention of violence. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, first in Azerbaijani, then repeated it once more in Turkish. “I’m here to help you.”

When this only garnered him blank looks, he tried Russian, then Farsi. On the bottom bunk of the nearest bed, a girl asked, “Min’ant?” and Damian could’ve breathed a sigh of relief.

“My name is Robin,” he answered, in Arabic. This time the kids looked like they understood. “I’m going to get you out of here. Please stay quiet.” He went to the girl’s bed, taking lock pick tools from his belt. Gesturing at the handcuff, he said, “I’m going to help you out of this. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

When the girl nodded, staring at him with wide eyes, he moved in to work on the cuffs. It didn’t take long, but with each precious second his chances of getting them all out before the goons made it back decreased. He could only hope that Jay was putting on a good show.

Damian was so tall and the bunks so low that even hunched over the handcuffs, he still had to be careful not to bang his head. Having undone the cuffs, he straightened up, asking the girl, “Can you walk?” when suddenly a hand shot down from above him – the child in the top bunk – and grabbed hold of his yellow cape, giving it a sudden jerk. His guard down, the force of the tug slammed his forehead into the base of the top bunk, and he groaned in pain. The girl he’d just freed kicked hard at his left knee, blowing it out and sending him stumbling away, lights flashing behind his eyes. “What?” he asked, his brain working sluggishly, trying to understand what he’d done wrong. His cape was still about his shoulders, and he didn’t fully realize he’d lapsed back into English. “I’m trying to help you-”

A searing pain rent through him, so cataclysmically powerful he felt like he’d been struck by lightning, nerves screaming in pain, his brain instantly alight with fear and dangersense. Blood pounded through his ears as a blade struggled down his back, resisting down the length of his spine. Adrenaline rushed into him, spilling out in the form of fresh scarlet blood weeping down around him, turning the air sick and coppery. The pain felt paradoxically distant and deafening, but he could not form words, only gaped at the room of captured children before him. They were sitting up now in their beds, staring at him. In their uncuffed hand, each of them held a knife.

Sensation trickled out of his hands, and his legs buckled beneath him. He gasped for breath: it felt like there were steel wires around his heart and lungs, squeezing, squeezing, and his entire body screamed at him to move but he could not.

Before he blacked out, it registered in the back of his mind that the children were no longer watching him.

----

When Jay could not raise Damian on his commlink, he knew immediately something was wrong. “Ah, fuck it,” he muttered to himself, and he took out his handgun and shot twice. Both bullets landed true, and the two remaining goons he’d been trying to incapacitate fell to the ground, a hole in their skull.

He sprinted into the base, expecting to find more resistance, Damian maybe in the middle of combat or else captured or else – Jason felt sick, and he put that far away from his mind. But as he raced through the steel corridors, he found no one. Everyone must have come out to defend the place. That didn’t bode well.

The stench of blood reached Jay before anything else. He retched, but he didn’t have any time to investigate the bodies on the bed, or the two children who lay bleeding on either side of Damian. Two large daggers, possibly hunting knives, lay discarded near the children’s hands; one was longer and sharper, sharp enough, Jay could tell, to cut right through Damian’s Kevlar reinforced uniform.

The scar on Damian’s back had been reopened top to bottom in a brutal, ragged slice. “Oh, fuck,” said Jason aloud, and he dropped to Damian’s side. “Hey! Robin! Come on, talk to me.”

Jay could not turn Damian onto his back without risking further damage, but he didn’t know what the fuck else to do, so he sat there uselessly, his hands hovering above Damian’s frayed wound. He could not believe what was happening, was halfway still convinced it was a dream, how could he have fucked up so bad? How could he have let this happen?

His cheek pressed against the bloodstained floor, Damian made a quiet gurgling sound in the back of his throat. Jay’s heart started to pump again and he came back to the present, digging into his own utility belt for medical supplies though he could not imagine he had anything which could help Damian in a state like this.

Damian said something, but his voice was so faint Jay could not hear. “Hey,” said Jay. “Stay with me, kiddo. Don’t go anywhere, it’s gonna be OK. I’m gonna get you out of here, it’s gonna be OK.”

Voice still weak but slightly louder, Damian managed to mumble, “Don’t – call me that.”

With a shaky laugh, Jay nodded, his head bobbing up and down. He unspooled the bandages he carried, laying them across Damian’s back, knowing they’d do nothing. “Sure thing,” he said. “We get out of here, I promise, I’ll never say it again. Just stay with me, OK? Keep talking.”

Though his eyes had never fully opened, Damian’s lashes fluttered downwards once more, closing completely. Dutifully, he still spoke. “Two,” he said. “Three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen.” He continued without pause, counting prime numbers to help him stay conscious. A classic Robin tactic.

As the initial shock wore off, it took about three seconds for Jay to realize what he had to do now. He keyed his commlink, and when the line opened he barked, “Hey, I need you. Now.”

Talia al Ghul arrived within minutes. Damian lost consciousness somewhere around 941, and Jay could do little more than try and stem the bleeding. When she came through the doors, she came with an emergency medical team, who took Damian on a stretcher immediately back out, no doubt to a helicopter waiting to carry him back to his mother’s compound. Jason had expected Talia to go with him. Instead, she stood there beside Jason, who was still on his knees, covered in Damian’s blood. They were left alone in a room full of corpses.

There was a heavy silence. Talia did not look down at Jason.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“It was a trafficking ring,” said Jason, his voice hard, defensive. “It checked out. It’s been active for years, reports going back a decade, there’s no reason it should’ve been a trap, no way they would’ve known-”

Before he could blink, the back of Talia’s hand came soaring through the air, connecting solidly with the side of Jason’s face. “Idiot,” she hissed. “Of course they knew. You absolute buffoon. You don’t listen to me.”

Jason did not reply, his hand pressed against his stinging cheek. “Will he be OK?”

“He’ll live,” answered Talia, without pause. “No thanks to you.”

Relief washed over Jay, permitting him to breathe once more. He got to his feet, his knees now stained with blood from the floor. Beneath him, his legs felt unsteady. “How’d they know we were coming?”

“I have told you,” answered Talia. Her eyes raked around the room, observing the gore dispassionately. “He is in danger. They have eyes on him.”

“They who?”

“It isn’t your concern,” said Talia, shaking her head, refusing to budge a single inch.

“Whoever they are, they almost just killed my little brother,” said Jason, his voice hard and dangerous. “You bet your ass I’m concerned, Talia.”

Finally, she turned to look at him. Her eyes were a honey-brown color, lighter than her son’s, but in this room surrounded by blood they seemed curiously flat, all variation smoothed into cold, glassy fury.

She gestured to the room full of children slaughtered by their own hand. “Children,” she said loudly, as if she could fill the room with her voice, cover up the terrible things that happened there, “born and bred to die.” She knelt and took the hilt of the knife red with Damian’s blood. “A stab in the back,” she said, “with an assassin’s blade. You were supposedly trained by a detective, were you not? What do you think?”

Jay stared at the knife, then out at the dead bodies on the bunks. His stomach squirmed, and he tasted bile in the back of his throat. But suddenly, all at once, it clicked into place.

He glanced back at Talia, a crease on his brow. “A League splinter cell.”

Talia was already shaking her head, but Jay now understood why she had refused to tell him: to admit there was a group of rogue assassins would be to legitimize them, and as the Demon’s Head, she could not risk that. “I have made many enemies, and inherited those of my father and my sister,” she said, her head held high, regal as ever. “There are those who seek to decapitate a dynasty. To strike at me through my son.”

But this raised even more questions. “Why not just kill him now, then?”

“Perhaps they believe they did.”

“Nope,” said Jay. “If an assassin was trying to take him out, they’d stayed alive long enough to confirm the kill. All of this,” he gestured at the room, the stinking miasma of blood heavy in the air, “is just set decoration.” He paused, watching her. “This is a message, T.”

This deduction seemed to satisfy Talia, reassure her that she could let him in on the secret. “They wish to frighten me into submission,” she said lowly. “And they would not dare kill him here, not with you to bear witness and hear my explanation.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she said harshly, slicing her gaze towards him, “then you go home to Gotham, and you come back with the Batman, and he ends them. That is not a gamble they’re willing to take.”

“You think I’m not gonna be telling Bruce about this?”

“I think his first instinct is to defend, not aggress,” said Talia. Her hands were clasped tightly behind her back. In the stark fluorescent light, shadows flickered across her face, making her look older. Or maybe she’d stopped using the Pits. Or maybe Jay just hadn’t seen her in enough years to make a difference. “I think that instinct dies with his sons.”

Jason stared at her for a long moment, eyes locked on hers. He flinched first, looking away.

“I tried to tell him,” Talia continued, no softness in her voice. “But he would not listen to me. Neither did you, and now because of you my son is in pain. I blame you as much as I blame they who did this.”

Jay protested, “Talia-” but she held up a hand, her expression stricken.

“Do not argue with me,” she said. “Leave here, Jason Todd.”

“No,” he said.

“Do not test me.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s OK,” said Jay stubbornly. “You take me right back to wherever the fuck he is, and when he’s better I’m taking him home. Besides,” he added, “you just said it. I go back to Gotham, I come back with Batman. Don’t make me do that to you.”

Talia said nothing for a long moment. Then, wordlessly, she turned and left the room, abandoning the bodies of children growing cold. Jason followed her.

It was a short ride in a military-grade chopper Talia’s base, which was a surprisingly utilitarian compound in the Chechnyan foothills. On all sides it was surrounded by barbed wire and guards patrolling the perimeter. Jason followed her inside. Without speaking to him once, she led him directly to a laboratory. She entered only halfway, lingering by the door. Jason peered into the room from behind her.

Stripped to the waist and suspended weightlessly in viscous green liquid, Damian was unconscious. Wires and needles and mechanical arms worked deftly on his back, skin peeled back to facilitate access to his spine. Deep in the bottom of his stomach, Jay felt a stab of recognition, a memory from years ago of a baby in a biotube. Back then he had only caught a glance of it out of the corner of his eye, and in the moment, with Talia by his side, he’d thought it was funny. Something you gotta tell me, Talia? he’d asked her, grinning. Her expression severe, she had granted him no reply. The memory made him ache with guilt. He should have done something.

“The biotube makes his physiology more malleable,” said Talia abruptly, her eyes on her son. “He will stay there until we repair any nerve damage.”

“How long will that take?”

“Not long. Hours, maybe.”

This sounded impossible. “He got shanked down his spinal cord and you’re telling be he’s gonna be all fixed up in an hour or so?”

“Topical damage can be healed after he is removed from the biotube,” Talia told him coolly. “And it works quickly, Jason. Not as quick as its source, but better than any modern medicine can do.”

For a moment he didn’t know what she meant, and then his eyes widened. He looked back at the biotube, at Damian’s body through the haze of green liquid.

“Why bother fixing him at all?” asked Jason, but all warmth had vanished from his voice. “Why not just give him a good ol’ dunk?”

“Lazarus Pits are precious resources,” said Talia stoically. “There is no need to contaminate one when we can safely draw from it instead.”

Jay suspected it was more than this. He knew that, like him, Talia too had experienced firsthand the burning madness of the Pit. He could not blame her for wanting to spare her son the agony. Though he wondered if that wasn’t oversimplifying it, if maybe all things touched by the Pit had a touch of madness to them. Maybe growing a child in a biotube instead of the womb did things to him neither Jason nor Talia could even imagine.

While Damian was in the biotube, Jason refused to leave his side. Talia came and went, apparently having other matters to attend to and confident in the abilities of her medical team. By the door, two guards stood armed to the teeth. They weren’t Ubu, and they couldn’t have been much older than Damian himself. On their chests they wore a patch of red, inlaid with an upside-down black triangle.

Finally, the biotube was drained, and Damian was removed. The medical team required that Jason wear a surgical mask when they did so, and they refused to let him touch Damian, citing potential risk of infection. They wheeled him to a secure medical bay which Jay could not enter, though they permitted him to continue his watch through an observation window the size of a wall. Damian was lain on his stomach, the ugly, jagged wound along the length of his back facing upwards. Expertly, the doctors began to close the wound. The two guards with the red insignia on their chest stood at the foot of Damian’s bed, at attention.

Transfixed by the image before him, Jay almost didn’t notice when someone sidled up slightly behind him. Expecting someone else, he turned around to say, “Talia-” but then he stopped short.

A woman smiled back at him. She was smaller than Talia, dressed in the gold and green of those most favored by the Demon’s Head. A scarf was wrapped loosely around her head, obscuring her hair. On her breast, she wore the red and black insignia shared by Damian’s guards.

She spoke with an accent. “Hello, Jason Todd.”

“Uh,” said Jay. “Hi. Who are you?”

“My name is Yasmeen.” She had to be around Jay’s age, if not younger. She stepped forward to join him at the window, and then turned her gaze to peer softly out at Damian’s unconscious form. “I owe you thanks for calling us so quickly. More serious damage could have been done.”

“Nothing Talia couldn’t fix in her little Lazarus kiddie pool,” Jay replied warily. “You wanna tell me who you are? And you know I don’t mean your name.”

The woman – Yasmeen – did not answer right away, still watching the boy behind the glass. Then she glanced at Jason, and she said shortly, “I was his first teacher.”

Jay stared at her.

“I was there when they took him out of the biotube for the very first time,” she said, turning once more to watch Damian, as if soaking in every detail. “I was his caretaker when he was little more than a baby. I taught him English and his mother tongue. When Talia could not, and she often could not, I raised him.” She offered Jay a smile. “So, again. I am grateful to you.”

Jason knew, of course, that Talia had not been able to care for her son like most mothers did, but he had always thought of that in abstract terms, in vague impersonal words like teachers or trainers. ‘Caretaker’ was something he had never thought of before, though it made perfect sense. Some jealous corner of his heart rebelled against this for inexplicable reasons, an unfamiliar and strangely possessive emotion clashing with the relief of knowing someone had loved and looked after Damian long before he came to his father’s family.

He cleared his throat, then he held out his hand to her. “It’s good to meet you,” he told her. “Guess I forget sometimes he had a whole childhood before Talia sent him off.” Her handshake was brief, but firm. “You haven’t seen him in a while then, huh? What’s Talia had you doing since then, training more baby assassins?”

“Not quite,” answered Yasmeen absently, still looking through the glass at Damian. “Talia released me from her service when she released her son from her care. I’ve been at Oxford since, studying Philosophy and Modern Languages.” She cast another small smile Jason’s way. “Two of his favorite subjects. I’d like to think of that as my influence on him.”

Jay eyed her, sizing her up. “So,” he said, “why are you back? Don’t tell me she went and got you just ‘cause Damian got himself all banged up, did she?”

Yasmeen blinked, and then she looked up at Jason curiously. “No,” she said, sounding almost confused. “Talia invited me back because of Leviathan.”

Before Jay could ask what the fuck Leviathan was, a loud crash came from behind the window, accompanied quickly by a ragged roar of fury. Both of their gazes snapped back to Damian, now conscious and on his feet. One doctor was already on the ground, having been tossed aside by Damian as if nothing more than a bag of flour. Damian ripped the IV out of his arm and staggered over to the fallen doctor, shouting at him in Arabic. Though Jay knew a little Arabic, the words tumbling out of Damian's mouth were hoarse and garbled, and he couldn't understand any of it. It looked like Yasmeen could. “What’s he saying?” he asked, urgently.

Yasmeen only shook her head, her lips a tight line. “He’s not in his right mind,” she replied. “They must have incorrectly adjusted the sedative dosage. He’s awake, but he’s not lucid.”

This made sense: Jay had heard from Dick and Bruce that Damian required a much higher dose of sedatives to keep him out than his size would suggest. Once Dick had offhandedly contributed this to “Talia’s genetic meddling,” which Jay had never really believed. Until now, perhaps.

Damian kicked the doctor in the face, and they collapsed on the ground. One of the guards moved forward to stop him, placing a hand on his shoulder, but Damian violently threw them off, then flipped them overhead, slamming them into the ground. The other guard and two more doctors moved in, trying to restrain him. Damian acted on instinct, methodically disabling them.

“That’s it,” said Jay, tearing himself away from the window, going to try and find a door. “I’m going in.”

“No need,” called Yasmeen, still at the window.

“He’s going to tear those people apart,” Jay replied, anger in his voice. “And listen, you’re part of the League so maybe you don’t care about them, but if you know the same kid I do then you know he’ll hate himself for what he did while he was under, and I’m not about to let that happen.”

Unimpressed, Yasmeen looked around at him. “Talia has this under control,” she said.

“Doesn’t look like control to me,” Jay spat, but Yasmeen merely motioned through the window. Warily, Jay moved forward to join her once more.

Inside the room, Talia had entered. Flanked by no guards, she moved towards Damian. Around him lay the doctors and guards, either unconscious or otherwise pretending to be in order to avoid his wrath. Damian was scratching at his hands, then rubbing his bloodied fists on his eyes in a childlike caricature. “What’s she doing?” asked Jay tensely, one hand pressed against the glass. “He’s freaking out, she shouldn’t be in there alone-”

Talia said Damian’s name. She said it accented, Dah-mian, not Day-mian. It then occurred to Jay that since she was the one who named him she was also the one who said it correctly, and therefore it was he and the rest of Bruce’s family who said it with an accent. It was a strange and sad realization, that none of them spoke his name the way his mother had intended. Unexpectedly, it stung at Jason’s heart.

She said it again. Damian’s scratched-up hands moved from his face, and he said something in Arabic that sounded like a threat before slamming his foot down onto the arm of one of the guards, kicking violently at the semiautomatic weapon at their side. “Damian,” said Talia once more, and she held out her arms. He shouted something at her, furious, primal, but she didn’t stop. She reached her son and she placed her hands on his cheeks, watching him with her amber eyes, and then she wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her.

Talia was a tall woman, but Damian’s last growth spurt had sent him shooting over six feet. He stood stock still above her for one moment, and then he seemed to collapse into her arms, gently dropping his face into the crook of her neck.

Murmuring something in Arabic, Talia ran her fingers through her son’s hair. Jason wondered how long it had been since she last held her son.

Once Talia coaxed him back to the hospital bed, she held his hand until the doctors could administer more drugs. He slipped back into unconsciousness once more.

“Not surprising,” remarked Yasmeen.

Jay glanced around at her. “What is?”

Gesturing towards Damian, she replied, “His reaction. Talia always thought he would get used to the trauma of invasive medical procedures, but it’s impossible for a child to build up the necessary resilience for that. He has always feared the helplessness of the biotube, I think, and reliving the traumatic circumstances of his previous spinal injury can’t be easy either.” She watched Damian, worry clear in her eyes. “I had hoped he might grow out of those fears. But I suppose they linger, whether we hold onto them or not.”

Jason too looked through the window at Damian. Talia remained by his side, though he was no longer conscious. His heart hurt once more.

In time, Yasmeen invited Jason to rest, or to share a meal with her. He refused, choosing instead to stay there by the window into Damian’s room, waiting for him to wake up. For a while she left, but eventually returned to wait in silence by his side. Hours passed.

Lying face down on the hospital bed, Damian stirred. Jason leaned forwards, his nose almost touching the glass. Talia shifted in her seat, blocking Damian’s face from view. He felt an uncharacteristic surge of anger towards her, but put that aside. At least someone would be there holding his hand when he woke up.

The sound within the room was transmitted through a line into the observation area where Jason stood. Damian’s voice was hoarse, but he murmured, “Mama?”

Talia replied in Arabic, gently. Jay saw her lift her hand, cradling her son’s cheek.

Damian did not reply at first. Then he seemed to shift, and he asked a question. Though Jay didn’t catch the words exactly, he heard Damian say, “Jason,” and felt a burst of affection for the kid. In response, Talia sat up straight, and then she turned halfway around to peer out at Jay.

Though it was a one-way mirror, Damian’s gaze followed hers. He looked tired. Looking back once at his mother, he pushed himself up to sitting position. “Get me out of here,” he muttered, in English. “I don’t need a hospital bed.”

“You need rest,” responded Talia, following his lead and switching to English.

“I can rest perfectly fine anywhere in the compound,” announced Damian, getting to his feet. A flickering expression passed over his face, brief admittance of pain, but it disappeared quickly, professionally. “Or in Gotham, for that matter.”

“You will stay until you are healed,” said Talia, too getting to her feet, looking her son up and down.

Without glancing back at her, Damian replied, “I will stay until I want to go.”

There was a moment of tension. He looked at his mother, no real cruelty on his face. Then he looked back around the room, and headed towards the only exit, the padded door through which Talia had entered.

Immediately Jason jogged around to the door, and he apparently wasn’t the only one with that idea. A whole cadre of Talia’s attendants appeared, carrying with them every possible amenity Jay could think of. None of them wore the red and black insignia, except of course Yasmeen, who waited patiently behind Jay.

The door to the medical bay opened, and Damian emerged. His dark eyes glanced around, finally landing and lingering on Jay. He stepped forward, and was met with a flurry of motion from Talia’s attendants. They wiped his brow, cleaned the edges the bandages covering his back, offered him a set of pills from a comically lavish tasseled pillow (which he took and swallowed without hesitation, though it made Jay’s heart pound), and then he lifted his arms to allow them to slip a cloak over his shoulders, a cloak of emerald green and spun gold. Jay wondered if it hadn’t once belonged to his grandfather.

All of this happened at once, quickly and smoothly. Jay was surprised that Damian didn’t seem at all surprised; but, he supposed, Damian had been raised like this, like royalty. Dick had tried his best to get rid of Damian’s natural sense of entitlement, the haughty arrogance of having been termed from birth a boy king. This was the first time Jason had ever seen Damian like this, and he seemed comfortable, calm and in control. It was like watching an animal finally returned to his natural habitat.

One of the attendants bowed before Damian and offered him a long knife encased in a jeweled sheath. He glanced down at it, then waved it away. Damian's hand was bandaged. The attendant did not move.

From behind Damian, Talia said, “No son of mine would walk in an enemy compound unarmed.”

Damian glanced around as Talia slunk forward, meeting his gaze. “You called yourself my enemy, Mother,” he told her, his voice quiet. “I never did.” Then, without waiting for her answer, he turned back around to look at Jay. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Me?” asked Jay, taken aback. “I mean, yeah, but I’m not the one who got his spine ripped out.”

“It’s certainly still there,” replied Damian, grimacing. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck, wincing when it hurt. “Though I imagine it’d be less painful if it weren’t. Did you call her?” he asked, to Jason. “Or did she come on her own?”

“He called,” said Talia.

Damian didn’t look at her. Jay glanced between them, then echoed her answer. “I called her. Why does that matter?”

“Because,” answered Damian coolly, “the latter would be proof.”

“Proof of what?” asked Jay.

“That she did this to me,” said Damian. “That she engineered violence in order to bring me back into her home-”

“Damian,” said Talia harshly, striding forward and placing a heavy hand on his arm. “Had I devised this violence, believe me, it would not have ended with two dozen children dead.”

“Why not?” he shot back at her, whipping his arm away from her. “Destroying children never seemed to prick your conscious before.”

All softness cracked away from Talia’s expression as if it had been no more than a brittle shell. Lowering her voice dangerously, she told him, “I made you stronger. Every hurt you endured was intentional, my son. It is incomparable to the meaningless death-worshipping chaos of whoever did this to you.”

Damian watched his mother for a long moment, his mouth tight. Jason glanced between the two of them, then leaned in. “If it helps,” he said, apologetically, “I don’t think she had anything to do with this. It was – something else.” Leviathan, Jay thought, his mind going back to the cryptic comment Yasmeen had dropped. But he held his tongue, waiting until he had a clearer picture of what was going on. Jason added, “She saved your life, Damian,” but by then Damian was no longer looking at him. His gaze had wandered beyond Jay, and the expression had dropped from his face, replaced by something that resembled shock.

Jay glanced around. Yasmeen stood there, smiling, her hands clasped behind her back. “Hamdellah assalamah, Damian,” she said. Welcome home.

“No,” said Damian, staring at her. He moved forward; behind him, Talia reached out and took the blade from the attendant Damian had refused. Stopping just past Jay, several feet away from Yasmeen, he looked at her warily, disbelievingly. “No. You don’t work for my mother anymore. I asked my father about you, you were in England, you were far away from this-”

Yasmeen shook her head, but did not remove her hands from behind her back. “I heard my very first student was coming home,” she said simply. “I thought to myself, Yasmeen, wouldn’t you like to see the man he became?”

She offered him a contented smile, though the look in her eyes was enigmatic. Damian’s eyes flickered down to the black and red symbol she wore.

Talia strode past the three of them. “Come,” she said, over her shoulder. “You must eat.”

She led them to what looked like an industrial kitchen, everything clean steel and hard chrome. Damian and Jason sat with Talia, but Yasmeen chose to stay on her feet, standing at attention by the door. Other attendants brought food and drink, pouring tea for Damian. It made Jason feel weird and out of place, uncomfortable being served. Neither Talia nor Damian seemed to notice.

“What happened to me?” asked Damian, his voice low. “Who were those children?”

“Victims to some mother more cruel than I,” answered Talia, raising a teacup to her lips. “I cannot tell you their names. My guess is that they all died without one.”

Talia took a sip of tea. In the small pause she took, Jason leaned forward. “Hey, listen,” he said. “My intel must’ve been bad. I shouldn’t have let you walk in there alone.”

Damian only glanced at him, unsatisfied. He sat up unnaturally straight, his spine rod-like. Exertion in any direction probably meant pain.

Looking up at Talia, Damian said, “Repairing my body does nothing to endear yourself to me. Not after what you did last time.”

Jason didn’t know what this meant, but Talia merely bowed her head in acknowledgement. “Forgive me,” she said. “But I don’t regret it. I did not send you to your father’s house to be trained by anyone but your father, certainly not some circus freak.”

“Dick Grayson was the first father I ever knew,” said Damian stubbornly, an admission of loyalty Jay had never heard stated outright. “I won’t listen to you speak ill of him.”

“Dick Grayson,” said Talia, sounding unimpressed, “is unworthy of you. He is a relic of your father’s pathetic penchant for self-pity, and a habitual liar who twists and poisons all things to his advantage.” Jay wondered, vaguely, if they were thinking of the same Dick Grayson. But then she said, “He is duplicitous by nature. Disloyal and nomadic by blood,” and Jason suddenly realized what she was getting at.

“Talia, come on,” he said, leaning forward on the cold steel of the table. “You can call Dick a lotta things, but disloyal is some big bullshit, and nomadic is just kinda racist.”

“Then why does he endanger you?” demanded Talia, her eyes glinting, focused on her son. “Why does he work with those who oppose me?”

“Because you’re a supervillain, Mother, obviously,” answered Damian, dismissing this. “What do you mean, endangering me?”

She watched him without reaction, but it was clear that she hadn't wanted to tip her hand so early. She glanced behind Damian, at Yasmeen; the woman turned to the attendants surrounding her and they dutifully emptied the room. Yasmeen closed the door behind them, and stood before it.

“What do you know,” asked Talia, her voice very quiet, “of Leviathan?”

An instant reaction crossed Damian’s face. “Leviathan,” he echoed. He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if struggling to recall a memory. “They tried to kill me, didn’t they?”

“No,” answered Talia shortly. “They saved your life. I formed Leviathan five years ago, when a faction within the League of Assassins began to sow the seeds of discontent, and I learned of a plan to strike at me through that which I hold most precious.” Her eyes burned into Damian’s. “You.” She paused for a moment, then added, “You see when I asked for you back then, it was not to transform you into some brainwashed assassin, like your father suggested. I wanted to protect you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Lies,” said Damian, cutting her off. “No parent destroys their child in the name of protection.”

“I broke you here,” Talia insisted, her hands on the table before her, “so that you would never break out there. So that you could meet pain, and become its master. So that you would become more powerful than that which would try to hurt you. Faster, and stronger, and smarter. Not better but the best. Believe of your mother what you want. I did this to prevent you from ever winding up like him.”

It took Jason half a moment to realize Talia was pointing straight at him. He raised a hand almost defensively, speechless thrown off balance, but Damian did not look around. He glared directly into his mother’s face.

But Jay’s heart sank as he realized Damian did not have an answer to this. He let it hang in the air for a long moment, then, the fury in his voice gone cold, he asked, "What does Dick have to do with Leviathan?”

Sharply, Talia responded, “As if you don’t know. He’s always hated me. He would take any opportunity to undermine me.”

“Undermine you how?”

Talia watched Damian. Her eyes narrowed, and then she leaned back in her seat. Thoughtfully, she asked, “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” asked Jason, interrupting before Damian could speak. “That Dick’s tryna stop whatever evil plans you’re cooking up now? I mean, it’s not exactly a stretch of the imagination, T.”

A flicker of annoyance passed over Damian’s face, though at first Jay wasn’t sure what it was for. T, he realized. He didn’t like the nickname.

Well. It was awfully familiar, and Jay wouldn’t blame Damian if he wasn’t feeling particularly friendly towards any friend of his mother’s at the moment. He pulled back, as if removing himself from the conversation.

Talia glanced upwards, towards the door. Yasmeen moved forward, placing a file before Damian, which she opened. She stayed by his side, which seemed to distract him; for one moment his gaze flickered up towards Yasmeen's face, an unsettled look in his eye. Then he turned his attention to the pages before him, examining them carefully. “What is this?” he asked, his voice flat.

Talia cocked her head. “You don’t recognize the symbol?”

Damian looked up at her, and shook his head. Jay leaned over, and Damian slid the file toward him. There was a shadowy photograph of what appeared to be an eye, behind which a series of crisscross lines intersected. It felt intensely familiar, but Jay couldn’t place it.

“We don’t know who they are either,” continued Talia. “Only that the circus brat is one of them, and that they’re doing all they can to put you in harm’s way, Damian.”

“Impossible,” said Damian. “You’re lying to me.”

“I am not,” answered Talia coldly. “Leviathan has had eyes on you for years now. They go where you go, and they combat threats you cannot imagine. They keep you safe.” She gestured at the file. “This organization fights me at every turn. At every opportunity they block Leviathan, putting you in direct danger.”

There was a long silence as Damian regarded the symbol before him. Then, brow furrowed, he looked up. “No,” he said again, sliding the file away from him. “I can’t trust this, Mother. You’ve tried to turn me against him before.”

“I am trying,” she insisted, “to protect you.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Damian stubbornly. “And I think it’s sick that you’ve brought me here with obvious intent to manipulate me.”

He placed his hands firmly on the table before him, and struggled to get to his feet, obviously fighting the pain of his healing spine. Beside him, Yasmeen gently took his arm, steadying him. “Khalti,” he said to her, taking her hand. “I don’t want you here with her any longer. Please permit me to take you wherever you want to go when I leave here.”

With a sad smile, Yasmeen reached out to place her hand gently against his cheek. “Habibi,” she replied, “you are very brave, and very clever, but where I want to be is here with her.” She watched him pleasantly, that same small smile on her face. “You are making a mistake,” she told him, slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a child, “by refusing to believe her. Your past blinds you.”

Damian said nothing for a moment. Then he took hold of her hand, and pulled it away from his face. “If it does,” he said quietly, “it’s her own fault, for leaving wounds that take too long to heal.”

“Maybe,” said Yasmeen softly, “this is her offering you a bandage, habibi.”

There was a thick silence. Talia watched another woman handle her son with a mother’s touch, and then she looked away, her expression blank and unchanging. Jay felt distinctly uncomfortable, on behalf of all of them.

Finally, Damian turned away from her. “Jason,” he said. “We’ll leave at dawn.” This, at least, was a relief: even Damian had to admit he was in no condition to travel at the moment, though Jay didn’t imagine he’d be all that much better come morningtime. Regardless, Jay got to his feet.

“Sounds good,” he said.

“Yasmeen,” said Talia, from her seat. “Please show Damian to his quarters.” To her son, she said, “Rest assured, you aren’t headed back to the medical bay.”

But Damian shook his head, standing straight as ever. He was at least a full foot taller than Yasmeen, who still held one of his hands. “I’m staying with Jason,” he said. “I told you already I don’t trust you, Mother, and I meant it. He’s not leaving my side.”

Jay felt a rush of affection for the kid once more, but he leaned forward and said, fairly, “Listen, I appreciate that, but I’m pretty sure if your mom wanted to off me, she would’ve done it already.”

“I’m not negotiating,” said Damian plainly, his eyes on his mother. “I know I need rest. Either he stays with me, or we both leave now.”

Talia considered this, her jaw clenched once more. Then she waved her hand. “Fine. Yasmeen, show them their quarters. Jason can sleep on the floor like a dog for all I care.”

Dutifully, Yasmeen did so. Damian let go of her hand as they headed through the compound – they moved slowly, as Damian was obviously still unwell – but once they were out of Talia’s earshot he moved to her side. Quietly, he spoke to her in Arabic. She considered his words, then replied. Jason lagged behind them slightly, trying not to intrude on what was obviously a private conversation, even though he couldn’t fully understand the language. Though he did his best to mind his own business, he caught a few words there. Khalti again, which wasn’t a name – maybe an honorific, or a term of endearment? Habibi he knew, though he’d heard it from Talia under extremely different circumstances, and the thought of that made him feel a little uncomfortable, weirdly guilty.

They exited one building and crossed a short courtyard into a different one. Above them, the moon shone down, bathing the compound in a pool of silver light.

The second building was made of brick and stone instead of steel and concrete, and felt less like a laboratory and more like a home. On the second floor Yasmeen took them to a room with a tall wooden door, and Damian nodded at him, gesturing for him to enter. He did so, leaving the door slightly ajar. Sure, he wanted to give Damian a little privacy; but they were also still in Talia’s territory, and he didn’t want to let Damian out of his sight.

He busied himself inspecting the room, but before she left, he caught a glance of Yasmeen holding Damian tightly in her arms.

The room itself seemed oddly out of place in an otherwise utilitarian compound such as this. There was a bathroom attached, fully stocked with medical supplies, as well as a big four-poster bed and a collection of couches and futons strewn about the room. Two large wardrobes held a number of clothes, though only one contained anything that would fit Damian. The other was full of clothing which seemed comically undersized. Jay rifled through it for a few moments, confused, and then he realized: these must have belonged to Damian when he was a child, back when he lived with Talia.

He closed the wardrobe to find Damian closing the door to the room. “Everything OK?” asked Jay, as Damian hobbled over to the bed, obviously in pain.

“I’ll live,” answered Damian, sort of falling onto the bed, dropping his face into the pillow. He sounded exhausted.

Jay stood there for a moment, and then he crossed the room. “Hey,” he said, dropping a knee beside Damian on the bed. He lowered one of his hands, hovering above Damian’s shoulder cautiously. “Can I take a look?”

Turning his head onto his cheek, Damian nodded at Jay. Gingerly, he slipped Damian’s arms out of the cloak, then pulled it off of him, revealing his bandaged back. Methodically, Jay inspected the bandages. “These need to be changed,” he muttered. “You wanna wait til the morning?”

“And give my mother another opportunity to delay our departure?” asked Damian doubtfully. “No. Do it now.”

Jay didn’t like that tone and he almost said something snarky about how demanding he sounded, but then he stopped himself. Really felt like the wrong time to point out Damian’s similarities with either of his parents.

After collecting medical supplies from the bathroom, Jason returned to Damian’s side, working very carefully.

“Hey,” said Jay.

Damian gave a vague noise of acknowledgement.

“I thought that was pretty brave,” he said, honestly. “Y’know, everything you said to her. It takes guts to stand up to someone who loves you that much.”

Another grunt, this one unhappy. “She doesn’t love me.”

Jason didn’t reply to this, because he figured Damian already knew that wasn’t true.

There was silence for a while as Jason cleaned and drained Damian’s wound, then replaced the bandages. When he was almost done, Damian, his voice slightly muffled against the pillow, asked, “How do you know her?”

No easy answer to this, especially not one Jay could admit to her son. But back in the jet, he’d gotten the impression that Damian already had an idea of how Talia al Ghul, sole inheritor of the Lazarus Pits, might have known Jason Todd, formerly dead Robin.

“She helped me out,” Jay told him, finally, “a long time ago.” Not technically untrue. “You know, in a big way.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Did my father ask her to do it?”

“Nope,” answered Jay, pressing the bandages against Damian’s dark skin. “Sometimes even supervillains do things outta the goodness of their hearts, Damian. Nobody asked her to do what she did, but she did it anyway, and I owe her for that. I’m always gonna owe her for that.”

Sharply, Damian said, “I don’t owe her anything.”

Jason took his hands away. “I didn’t say you did. We’re talking about me, not you. Believe me, I’m not trying to soften you up to her or anything, I’m just saying.” He said nothing, finishing up on Damian’s back. “A woman brings you back from the dead, and you wind up getting to know her pretty well. That’s all.”

On the pillow, Damian’s eyes were closed. “When?” he asked.

“When what?”

“When,” repeated Damian, with a hint of impatience. “When did this happen?”

Taken slightly aback, Jay took a moment to consider this. “I dunno,” he said. “Gotta be about fifteen years or so now.”

“Fifteen,” echoed Damian.

“That’s what I said.”

Damian said nothing.

Then, his voice very low, he asked, “Did you see me?”

It felt like Jay’s heartbeat slowed down, as if the blood in his veins were ice. He knew that the truth would hurt Damian, but he also couldn’t bring himself to lie.

He settled on, “Maybe. Whatever I saw or thought I saw or, hell, hoped I didn’t see, I sure as hell never expected to wind up here.”

This was unsatisfactory, but Damian had no choice but to accept it. Taking a syringe out of the medical supplies, Jay said, “I’m gonna give you a mild sedative. Won’t knock you out, but it should help you get some sleep. That OK?”

“Yes,” said Damian, unhappily.

Jay hesitated, and then he experimentally laid a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, with genuine regret. “I shouldn’t’ve brought you here. I should’a known it was gonna go south.”

“No,” said Damian, shaking his head. “It’s all right.” He turned his face away from Jay. “I wanted to see her.”

Eventually, Damian’s breath slowed as he drifted to sleep. Jay sat with him on the bed the entire night. He was struck with a profound sense of déjà vu, the sense memory of sitting on a bed next protecting a sleeping child coming back to him across all these years. He wondered where Lian Harper was today. Though the dissolution of the Teen Titans had hit Damian hard, Lian had ultimately been the mastermind, manipulated by her mother into violence against her teammates. Jay wondered if maybe Damian didn’t have more in common with Lian than he’d like to admit.

At some point, Jason must have fallen asleep. He had a dream that he was sixteen years old and stuck behind eyes that could not see, inside a body which did not obey him. He dreamt of himself in Talia’s arms, lowering them both into the Pit together. He dreamt he saw a boy, a scar down the length of his spine, floating face down in the eerie green water.

In the morning, Jason had to help Damian to his feet. Any pain medication must have worn off, because he seemed wracked with it, hardly able to move. When Damian was in the bathroom, Jay stood outside the door, feeling bizarrely paternal. He supposed it made sense, given his relationship with Damian’s mom, but also acknowledging that whole dynamic was weird as hell so he tried not to think about it.

Not long after that, there was a knock on the door, and a team of Talia’s medical staff streamed in, replacing Damian’s bandages, giving him several injections, and fitting him in a spinal brace. Yasmeen oversaw this, and when it was done, she smiled at Damian and said, “We took the liberty of fetching your jet. Your mother asks that you consider staying until you are healed, Damian.”

“No,” replied Damian shortly, as Jason helped him slip a shirt over his brace. “I want to leave now.”

Yasmeen bowed her head in acknowledgement, then gestured to the door. Without another word, Damian headed out. Jay followed him.

On the runway behind the compound, Talia stood before the jet. Wind blew in from the mountains, whipping her long dark hair about her face, her cloak of white and gold around her body. In the morning light, she seemed to glow. She must have been wearing heels, because she looked ungodly tall, majestic, fearsome. Despite himself, Jay felt a nostalgic tug of attraction.

Damian stopped before her, far enough that she could not reach out to touch him. “Mother,” he said.

“Son,” she replied, cutting him off before he could say any more. She offered him a sly smile.

Stoically, Damian continued, “I’ll tell my father what you’ve done for me. I imagine he’ll want to look into this Leviathan business himself. I expect he’ll contact you.”

“I promise I won’t try and kill him,” she told Damian, smoothly.

“Don’t play games with me,” he said, his voice hard and his brow knit. “If you wish to speak to me, don’t lure me halfway around the world. I’ve left my comm codes with Yasmeen. Use them to contact me directly.”

If it smarted that Damian gave the codes to Yasmeen instead of to her directly, Talia gave no indication of it. “I didn’t bring you here, Damian.” Her eyes flickered to Jason. “He did.”

“On your request,” Jay shot back at her.

“I asked you to bring him to me,” Talia replied coolly. “Not to some underground base fifty miles away where they would carve him up like a bird.”

Mercifully, Talia didn’t think to make a crack about Robins. “Wouldn’t have done it at all if you hadn’t called me to begin with,” Jay told her, resentful. He hadn’t liked this encounter, top to bottom – he felt bone-deep guilty for getting Damian hurt in the first place, and it had not been easy to watch mother and son be so unkind to each other. It was clear, too, that Damian was struggling with something much bigger, something a whole lot deeper. In Talia's absence Damian had had a lot of time to reflect on his childhood, and Jay’d gotten the impression he wasn’t ready to forgive his mother just yet. Well. Jay could relate to that.

“This isn’t his fault,” said Damian, without looking around at Jay. “Don’t bother him again.”

Talia let out a tinkling laugh. “I will bother him all I want,” she said to Damian. “He owes me a debt.”

Damian shook his head, but Jay spoke before he could. “Come on,” he said. “You can’t hang that over my hand forever, T.”

“Then repay me,” she answered, cocking her head slightly. Her dark eyes focused on Jay, roving up and down his body, as if she could see right through him. “Last time I checked, you’re in the red for two hundred fifty thousand, about ten of my best assassins, and a helicopter, Jason.”

Ah. So maybe the helicopter was fair: she’d lent it to him for his reintroduction back to Gotham, and he’d wound up crashing it pretty bad.

“Those assassins were assholes,” he replied lamely. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Her gaze raked back to her son, who watched her warily, suspicious of this exchange. “I was sorry to hear about the Titans,” she told him, causing Damian’s eyebrows to immediately shoot up in surprise. “I liked Miss West very much. The two of you could have been very powerful together.”

Damian said nothing, but Jay caught the bitterness in his expression, the resentful anger, fire with no oxygen to burn. He glanced around, away from Talia’s gaze.

“I understand Jade Nguyen was responsible for that wreck,” Talia continued, almost offhandedly, as if commenting on the weather. “I don’t imagine it would be too difficult to hunt her down and punish her for what she put you through.”

“No need,” murmured Damian, his eyes sliding back to Talia. “Her daughter is already on the job.”

Talia arched one elegant eyebrow. “Is she now?” she asked, and Jay didn’t like how intrigued she sounded. When Damian refused to reply to this, Talia let out a small sigh and moved forwards, taking hold of one of her son’s hands. Damian did not pull away.

“Ya amar,” she said to him, lifting her free hand to his face, swiping her thumb beneath his eye. “Ya rouhi.” Jason knew that one, and felt a flush of awkwardness, knowing he was intruding on something deeply personal. He looked away, trying to give them some privacy. “Ana bahebak, ya ibni. Ya’aburnee.”

Damian said nothing, refusing to look his mother in the eye. He gave her a short nod, little more than a bob of his head.

She slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him downwards to press her lips against his forehead. This bent his bound back at a bad angle, and he grimaced in pain.

For a moment, something seemed to fade from Talia’s ever-perfect veneer, and with both hands she held her son’s head, kissing him on both cheeks. There was urgency in the way she held him, a deep longing, a desperate regret. She looked like a mother who loved her son too much to let him go; and in the end, Jay figured, that wasn’t too far from the truth.

But then she stepped back, her hands on her son’s shoulders. “Be safe,” she instructed him, stern once more. “Leviathan will be watching over you. You will not be the downfall of our line, my son. You are my pride, and my joy.”

“I’m not an al Ghul,” he said to her, quietly.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her grip vicelike. “Yes,” she said, peering hard into his eyes, fierce conviction in her voice. “You will always be an al Ghul, Damian. You will always be my son.”

Jason and Damian left Talia on the tarmac, guiding the jet away from the rising sun. For a long time, Damian said nothing.

“We'll need to make a stop outside Gotham,” he said. It was the first thing he’d said in hours.

Jay glanced at him. “Why?”

“A rudimentary inspection,” he answered, sounding bored. “For explosive devices, any kind of toxin release mechanism. Just in case.”

“In case what?” asked Jay, frowning at him. “You think your mom hooked some kind of suicide bomb into your spine, or something?”

Damian would have shrugged, but that hurt him so he didn’t. “Last time this happened she installed a failsafe. I wouldn’t put it past her to do it again.” He looked around at Jay and added, “I’ll have my father do a complete scan when I get home, but before we get there I’d like you to take a look first.” He repeated, “Just in case.”

Jason’s instinct was to tell Damian that Talia would never do that to her son, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t his place to tell Damian what his mother would or wouldn’t do. Jay didn’t know her the way Damian did, and he didn’t have any right to intervene. Too much baggage Damian had to figure out how to carry for himself.

As Damian requested, Jay found a spot outside of Gotham to set down before they reached the Manor. Damian shed his shirt and the brace, allowing Jason to inspect the wound. The jagged incision had been closed with surgical staples, which meant that a metal detector was functionally useless, so Jay used his eyes and his gloved fingers and a multipurpose scanner Bruce had developed years ago. He detected nothing amiss, which was what he’d expected, but he did a thorough job anyway.

When he pressed too hard, Damian winced. “You want me to help you explain all this to Bruce?” Jay asked, still working.

“No,” answered Damian. He sounded unhappy. “He’ll get angry with you for it, and that isn’t fair.”

“Eh. I’m sorta used to it, by now.”

Damian did not reply to this, so Jason too fell silent. He finished as best as he could, running his thumb along the staples one last time. The scarring was going to be intense, even worse than before.

“Jason,” said Damian.

Jay glanced up, but Damian didn’t turn around, so he could only look at the back of his head, the dark curls there. “Mhm?”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Aw,” said Jay, shaking his head, reaching for the bandages to cover the wound once more. “I didn’t do much. If anything, I really just fucked things up.”

Still looking away from him, his voice low, Damian said, “You…gave me the choice. My father was never going to give that to me, albeit maybe for valid reasons, but still.” He shook his head slightly, but fell silent.

When he did not speak again, Jay returned to reapplying bandages. He was reminded, viscerally, of sitting in the bathroom of a safehouse what felt like a thousand years ago, stitching a bullet hole closed on Damian’s arm. Damian had been fourteen years old. Back then they’d barely known each other, but Jason’s heart ached for that kid and for the kid sitting in front of him, son of the Bat, son of the Demon, a boy tugged in all directions at the mercy of those who thought they knew best for him. Though he was brilliant and competent and stronger and better than anyone Jay had ever known, Damian had never asked for any of that. Perfection came at the expense of personal freedom. First by his mother’s hand and then by the strict code of his father, Damian had been denied the luxury of choice his entire life. Now like then, Jason felt for him, an ache deep in his chest, somewhere untouchable.

“I missed her,” said Damian. His voice sounded distant, like his head was far away.

Jason didn’t have anything to say to that. He understood that: the searing pain of separation, even though in your heart you knew you should never, ever want to go back.

He finished bandaging Damian up, then clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’ll be OK, kiddo,” he told him.

Damian let out a long breath, then reached up to run his hand through his hair. He glanced around, catching Jason’s eye.

“Don’t call me that,” he said.

#jason todd #damian wayne #talia al ghul #earth 28 #cw for gore blood and unfortunately some child death #it was so great to have an opportunity to write talia The Right Way #catch me having a revelation about the biotube i'm so stupid for missing for 5 years

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

Beyond the Mountains - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, Ra’s al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, bits of Tim, Conner, Terry Pairing: jondami Summary: There was a new Batman in town, but it wasn’t Damian. No, Damian returned to the League of Assassins with his grandfather. Jon married him anyway. A/N: A batman beyond ‘verse kind of?? based on the comics! Referenced the two arcs Damian are in in Batman Beyond currently (like, 10-13 and 43 through current) a few times in here, but also changed a few of the canon details. Since the current arc Damian is in in BB is not yet out, I bs’d the end and I’m sorry it sucks. I imagine Jon being the hot/dorky high school teacher so...that’s what he is haha. Also reminder that I am nooooooo good at sex scenes haha. I worked a fuck ton on this, so if you like it, please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon!

Jon was used to Damian breaking into his house in the middle of the night. He’d done it since they were kids. Jon had started breaking into Damian’s house right back when they began dating. It was a thing between them. Their thing.

But this time. This was different.

The bright light shining through the window woke him up first. It was blinding, and he had no idea what it was. Was it daytime? Did he sleep in? Impossible, his parents would have never let him, despite being nearly twenty-three years old, and a guest.

Next, he caught on to the wind, the sound of something hovering. The light was coming from an airship? Batman? Wonder Woman? One of the Lanterns? Was there an emergency?

But as he sat up, he saw a shape drop onto his windowsill. A familiar one, one that put his heart at ease almost always.

But…it didn’t this time.

Because Damian’s silhouette was wrong. There was no cape, or even pointy-eared mask like there should have been. In fact, he seemed to only be wearing what he always wore under one of those uniforms. Compression leggings and long-sleeved shirt.

“Damian?” Jon asked as he sat up, and Damian dropped to the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. But I’m not staying.” Damian explained quickly as he came into view. His face looked hollow, eyes dark. “I just…I just needed to see you before I left.”

“Left?” Jon kicked his blankets off, stumbling to his feet. Damian wasn’t the type to throw words like ‘left’ around easily. “What do you mean? You’re…you’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Wha…where are you going? What happened?” As an afterthought. “Is your dad okay?”

“He’s fine. In Gotham where he belongs. I…” Damian looked away. “I’m going with my grandfather.”

“No.” Jon stepped forward, grabbed Damian’s biceps. “You are absolutely not going with him, and I don’t care what he said or who he threatened, he cannot make you do anything you don’t want-”

“But I do.” Damian whispered. “I…I want to go. And I’m going of my free will. No one is forcing me.”

“No.” Jon was shaking his head. “No. I don’t believe you. You would never-”

“What my father is doing isn’t working, Jon.” Damian pleaded. “And his scope isn’t wide enough. His vision is today, not the future. But that’s what we need to work towards. That’s what my grandfather envisions.”

Jon was still shaking his head, still squeezing Damian’s arms. “No way-”

“I didn’t come here to debate.” Damian sighed, closing his eyes. Carefully, he wiggled his way out of Jon’s grip. “I just came to say goodbye.”

Before Jon could say anything else, Damian took a soft hold of his face and kissed him. It was heavy, desperate, but gentle, and so clearly apologetic. But even as Jon began to shift his arms to hold on to Damian’s waist, keep him there forever, Damian slipped away and was back to the window.

He looked back only once, then disappeared back into the dark.

To say Jon was furious was an understatement.

It’d been weeks since Damian disappeared. Weeks. And when he first went back to Gotham to tell him what Damian had said to him, Bruce hadn’t been surprised. Said he knew, and that he was looking for Damian himself.

And for a while, he gave Jon updates. Called him every few days with his new leads or any evidence he may have found.

Then he stopped.

And when Jon showed up in Gotham a few weeks after, he saw some kid with Bruce, at Wayne Enterprises. Same dark hair, athletic build and eager face as the rest of them.

“You’re not looking for Damian at all, are you?” Jon snapped as he burst into the office, ignoring all security and secretaries. “You’ve already…moved on, haven’t you?”

“You know that’s not true, Jon.” Bruce countered, weakly standing in front of this new boy.

“Do I? You stopped calling me with your leads.”

“Because none are panning out.” Bruce promised. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jon huffed. “…All this time, I defended you to Damian. But here, it turns out he was right all these years. You never gave a shit about him.”

“Jonathan!” Bruce admonished, face filling with his own anger.

“Save it.” Jon waved him off as a security guard grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “I’ll just go find him myself.”

Nanda Parbat.

He’d never heard of it before, not even from Damian. But this lead came from Tim, through Conner, and not Bruce, so Jon believed it. Especially with Tim’s own unfortunate ties to Ra’s al Ghul.

It was freezing here, and Jon was almost starting to doubt Tim’s intel of a secret village, when a barrage of arrows came out of nowhere in the fog. They barely missed him, just as he almost missed the bola swinging straight for his throat.

In the moment of being overwhelmed with weapons, he lost track of where he was going, and found himself bouncing off the sharp edge of a jutting cliff, falling out of the air like a crashing plane.

The landing was surprisingly soft, thanks to the snow that he plopped into. But when he rolled over and opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a circle of masked assassins, each one holding a matching sword to his throat.

“Um…ow.” He murmured, rubbing his head. Slowly he raised his hands. “I, uh…come in peace?”

“You should not have come at all.” A voice called further away. The assassins all backed up a step, and some shifted to allow him to see. An old man had spoken, older than anyone Jon had ever seen.

Damian stood behind him.

“Surely the Detective has told you.” The man – Ra’s, Jon assumed – said. “You are not welcome here, Superma-”

Ra’s trailed off as Jon sat up. As he slowly got to his feet and ignored the danger of death all around him.

“You are not the Superman I am aware of.” Ra’s countered. Damian, still silent behind him, let his eyes grow wide. Jon grinned back at him. “But the rules still apply to you, and you are as unwelcome here as the original Superman is…”

Jon tuned him out as he moved forward. One of the assassins stuck his sword in front of him, and Jon just bent it in half as his walk turned into a run, and he all but barreled towards Damian.

He hit him head on, like a freight train, almost knocked him over, really. But Damian caught him anyway. Wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon wrapped his around Damian’s waist.

“You’re here.” Damian gasped, shifting his hand to clutch at Jon’s hair. “You’re here, you…you…what are you doing here?!”

“Looking for you, obviously.” Jon smiled against his throat. “I mean…last I checked, you’re still my boyfriend.”

Damian’s fingers twitched against his head.

“Unless that lame ass goodbye you gave me was supposed to also be a breakup.” Jon smirked. “And if that’s the case, I didn’t get the message, and also don’t accept.”

“It doesn’t matter what you are to him.” Ra’s reinserted himself into the conversation. “We don’t allow visitors of any sort here, least of all unannounced ones.”

Jon backed up a little bit, but only enough to turn. He kept Damian in his arms. “I’m not leaving without him.”

“Then I’m afraid you won’t be leaving here alive, Little Superman.”

Damian was instantly between them. “A few nights, Grandfather. Please.” Ra’s narrowed his eyes at him. “He was unaware of the rules, and their strictness. He should not be executed for his ignorance.”

“We don’t make exceptions here, Damian. You know that.”

“I also know I am the heir to your throne, and as future Demon’s Head, can do as I please.” Damian countered. “I’m only asking as a courtesy, out of respect for you. Now, either you let him stay, or I let him carry me away, and decide later if I wish to actually return.”

Ra’s frowned. “Watch yourself, Damian.”

Damian merely raised his chin. It’d look regal, if he wasn’t still half corralled into Jon’s arms.

“…Fine. He may stay.” Ra’s spun away, waving to the nearby assassins to stand down. “This time. Inform him of the rules, and remind him that he won’t get this mercy next time.”

Damian glanced back up at Jon, who gave him his best grin. “…Yes, sir.”

“Who told you about this place?” Damian asked. “Or how to find it?”

“Tim, technically.” Jon hummed from the bed, watching as Damian slowly walked around the room, lighting candles as he went. It gave the space a warm, comforting glow. “Well, I mean, Conner told me. But the info was from Tim.”

Damian nodded. “Guess I have to kill him, then.”

Jon laughed and rolled to his side. He couldn’t stop staring at Damian as he moved. He was graceful, yes, but it was more his clothes. Loose pants under an open, deep green robe.

Even in his pajamas, he looked royal. Like a king.

(Like his king.)

He himself was just in borrowed clothes. Offered the same as what Damian wore, but only took the dark green pants. Robes were never his thing.

“Well unfortunately, I won’t let you do that.” Jon laughed, ducking his eyes only a little when Damian looked back at him. “…He misses you, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Damian said dryly. “He and Father both, right?”

Jon sighed. “…I don’t know what Bruce is doing, but Dick, Tim and them…they never stopped looking for you. In fact, I told them I’d contact them if I found you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Damian hummed.

“Why, want to hide all the terrible al Ghul secrets from them?” Jon smirked. “I mean, doesn’t Tim already know most of them?”

“He does I suppose, but that’s not why.” He finished lighting the last candle and blew out the match between his fingers. He carefully put the smoldering piece in a nearby ashtray and turned fully towards Jon. “I want to spend time with you.” Damian admitted. “Uninterrupted.”

Jon felt his cheeks heat up instantly. He suddenly remembered that he was, gloriously, only half clothed. And that the only extra piece of clothing Damian had, the robe, was light and easily rippable.

“And you know if you contacted them, they’d attempt some kind of rescue mission, and come in guns blazing, etcetera, etcetera.” Damian drawled as he waved his hand around, walked towards the bed, and sat on its edge. “And that would just waste our time together, wouldn’t it?”

Jon smiled and flopped his hand out for Damian to take. Damian did so instantly, leaning down to drape himself across Jon’s chest.

“…You sure it can only be a few days?” Jon whispered as Damian trailed his fingers along his cheekbone. “Sure you really don’t just want to come back with me?”

“Want to, of course. We could get that log cabin in the middle of the forest you’ve always talked about.” Damian lamented, even as Jon dragged their combined fingers to his mouth and kissed them. “But I need to stay.”

“Why?”

“I can do good here.” Damian offered. “I can…learn things. Maybe one day put them to good use, or, heaven forbid, tell them to my father. Work together to save the world, and all that.”

Jon kissed at his fingers again. “And where do I fit in that plan?”

Damian hesitated, then sighed, attempted to pull his hand away and sit up, but Jon didn’t let him. Clung to his fingers, and wrapped his free hand around Damian’s back.

“It’s just a question.” He promised. “Not an accusation.”

“I…suppose I had hoped you’d take my last visit to you as an ending to our relationship.” Damian admitted sheepishly. “Not because I don’t-”

“I know.” Jon smiled, kissed his hand again.

“…I’d hoped you’d forget about me. Move on. Find happiness elsewhere.”

Jon grinned, pulling Damian down farther. “Impossible.”

Damian pursed his lips. “Well, it would have made my plan a lot easier.”

“I’d say sorry if I was.” Jon released their hands to hold the side of Damian’s face. “But we both know I’m not.”

He felt Damian’s smile as he pushed their mouths together. Damian melted against him immediately, hands running up his sides to curl into his chest.

Jon’s heart pounded, and he could feel the fast beat of Damian’s through his jaw. His hand twitched, nails just biting into Damian’s skin.

God, he missed this. Missed him.

“How…many?” He gasped as one of Damian’s hands found their way into his hair. “Days? How many days can I stay?”

Damian hummed. “Three at most.” He answered when parted for a quick inhale. “Four, if I begged, perhaps.”

“You, begging? I’d love to hear it.” Jon laughed as he shifted to begin kissing along Damian’s jaw. Damian pinched at his collarbone. “Any way we can extend my visit indefinitely? Or gain unlimited visiting access without potentially getting murdered?”

Damian hummed again, pulling back to lean thoughtfully on his elbow.

“…There are not many, I don’t believe. At least, not many that would apply to you.” Damian thought out loud. Jon reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Damian’s ear, then ran his hand down to his shoulder, where he began to subtly push Damian’s robe off. “Members of governments and armies we are having dealings with and spouses are all that come time mind.”

Jon’s hand stopped on the curve of his arm. “Spouses?” He blurted. “People are married here?”

“Not many, but a few. Higher generals and some of the scientists, maybe. My bodyguard, Koru. He is. I’ll introduce you to some of their children in the morning, they’ll enjoy you.” Damian shrugged. “At least two of Grandfather’s wives stayed here in their lifetimes.”

But when Damian looked back towards Jon’s face he frowned. Jon was smiling.

“…What?”

“There’s our solution, then.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We get married. I become husband to the next Demon’s Head.” Jon’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Problem solved.”

Damian scoffed, sitting up completely. Jon released him only reluctantly.

“That’s ridiculous.” Damian snapped. “You can’t marry someone just to have unlimited…as Todd would put it, booty calls.”

“One, rude that you believe I think of visiting you as purely earth-shattering sexcapades.” Jon pushed himself up onto his forearms. “Two, also rude that you don’t think I’d want to marry you because, I don’t know, I love you?”

Damian just glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, we’ve said I love you to each other before. Many times.” Jon countered. “I mean, I know we haven’t said it since, you know, you ghosted everyone for three months, but still.”

“Marriage is a big decision.” Damian countered. “And I’m not letting you make such a spur of the moment decision on my account.”

“Who said it was spur of the moment?” Jon demanded. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages.”

Damian snorted. “You have not.”

“Have so. Ask your sister.” Jon countered. “She was helping me for weeks to figure out what kind of design I wanted for a ring, and had scouted a bunch of jewelry stores in Gotham and Metropolis. We were planning on checking them out the weekend you disappeared.”

Damian just stared at him. But there was less annoyance in his face now, more wonder. His eyes glowed in the dim light from the candles.

“I mean, we never made it to the stores, so I don’t have a ring. But I’ll go fly out to one of the mountains outside and make one out of stone if you want me to.” Jon sat up completely now. “I’ll even get down on one knee if you want that too.”

Damian just stared up at him. His cheeks were rosy, and Jon wanted to kiss him again, but now that he’d started down this path, he had a feeling it would be awkward if he just stopped his weird admittance of adoration to make out some more.

“I always thought we’d have a giant wedding, you and me.” Jon whispered with a dreamy smile. “But…this is an opportunity. This is a good opening. We’re together, we’re alive. And it kills me to think about, but when is our next chance to be both those things together?” He looked down, and took Damian’s hand between both of his own. “I…forgot, until I saw you again, outside. How much I missed you. How lonely I was. How worried. How miserable. How much I…worship the fucking ground you walk on, Damian.”

Damian didn’t say a word.

“Is it a means to an end? Well, if the end is me not getting killed for just stepping foot here, then to some it may look like that. But it’s not.” Jon hummed, stroking his thumb along one of Damian’s knuckles. “It’s just…no time like the present, you know? Potentially getting murdered gives us a good reason to get it done. To not wait, or hesitate.”

Damian stared at their hands.

“And I…I realized. When I saw you again. I don’t want another day without you. I don’t want another day without being yours.” Jon squinted, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. “Even if marriage wasn’t a potential solution, and I mean, you said maybe, you didn’t even say sure thing. But even if it wasn’t, even if Ra’s locked me up for staying too long, or showing up again, that’s fine. I’d be here with you, so I’d be happy anyway.”

“…It’d have to be long distance.” Damian murmured, turning his hand in Jon’s grip. “I can’t leave here. But I refuse to damn you to stay in this place forever too.”

“I know. I have stuff I need to do back home, too. A job and hero stuff. I’m not going to stop helping people or anything like that. But hey, it might work in our favor. I can be your eyes and ears back home. Keep you in the loop in case anything serious happens, and you need to come back, if only for a day or two.” Jon tilted his head. “And now that I know where Nanda Parbat is, I can be here every week. Every night.”

Damian looked up at him, eyes wide and almost disbelieving.

“And it’s weird to say, but you’d be safe here. No one will be able to find you, except me.” Jon smiled. “My very own prince hidden away and guarded by an evil dragon.”

Damian quirked a smile at that. “…We’d have to do it quickly. The wedding I mean. Before your three day time limit is up. After informing Grandfather, of course.” His smile faltered. “You wouldn’t get the big wedding you wanted.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a big wedding. I just said I always imagined that’s what it’d be, with both of us knowing so many people, and, you know, being Superman and Batman’s sons.” He squeezed Damian’s hand. “I’m more interested in the act than the event.”

“Oh, the wedding night?” Damian teased, rolling his eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Stooop.” Jon drawled as he threw his head back with a laugh. “I do not want to marry you so we can have, as you put it, secret mountain village booty calls whenever I can come out here.”

He heard Damian laugh too. Felt Damian squeeze his hand. “…Yes.”

The answer was soft, almost inaudible. Jon lowered his head to look Damian in the eyes, the tears in his threatening to overflow. “What?”

“Yes, I will marry you.” Damian whispered. “It would be my greatest honor.”

Jon felt a tear escape even as he leaned forward and engulfed Damian in his arms. Felt Damian wipe it away as he twisted his head to kiss him. Felt Damian’s own tears drip onto his face as they fell back into the bed together.

In the middle of the night, he reluctantly slipped out of the warmth of Damian’s bed and tiptoed to the door. He slowly slid it open and stuck his head out, glancing around for the one Damian called Koru, the bodyguard.

“Pst!” He hissed when he saw him, just down the hall. Koru narrowed his eyes, but quickly pattered over. “Can you do me a favor?”

Koru frowned. “No.”

“Why no…oh. Right.” Jon whispered. “You can leave your post, I promise I won’t tell. And I promise I’ll protect him in the meantime.” He let his eyes glow red as he pointed at them. “I’ve got heat vision and super strength and all that. He’s in good hands.”

Koru’s eyes had widened slightly. “…What do you want?”

“Go out and find the coolest stones you can find. As many as you want, but at least two.”

“What for?”

“A secret, but I promise it’s not a weapon. And I promise you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Koru hesitated for a moment, then huffed. “Fine. But if any of his blood is spilled, I will have your head.”

“Perfect.” Jon gave him a thumbs up. “Knock twice when you’re back?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Cool.” Jon grinned at him and slid the door shut once more.

In all his years, in all his fantasies of getting married to Damian, the one thing he never thought was that he’d be getting married by the one and only Ra’s al Ghul.

He was ordained. In at least six different religions, and all countries but Norway. Who knew?

Ra’s wasn’t thrilled when Damian barged into his quarters the next morning, Jon in tow, to inform him of their intentions. If anything, he seemed most annoyed at the fact that Damian had upturned his plans for the day, and entered the room without knocking or any of the formalities he was supposed to perform.

He didn’t seem surprised, though.

“His mother fell in love with the Batman, and he fell in love with the future Superman.” Ra’s sighed in answer to Jon’s question as servants suddenly swarmed the room, dragging Damian away for wedding preparations. “It follows a pattern. Why should I be surprised?” Another group of women came into the room and began pushing him out of it as well. “Your ceremony is at dusk. Don’t be late.”

He didn’t see Damian the rest of the day, but it’s not like he was given a chance to notice. He was fed and, awkwardly, bathed. He was presented with what appeared to be traditional robes, made of the nicest materials he’d ever seen in his life, and stood on a stool as the clothes were tailored and hemmed by some of the women – “Call us your grannies, little American boy.” The eldest of them said – for the rest of the afternoon.

It was…nice, though. The women were kind, and the assassins sent as guards were respectful. Jon even got a few of them to smile. The children who were following their working mothers chattered his ear off, in between drawing pictures of him and ‘Prince Damian’ as they jokingly called him, and creating colorful crowns and headbands for him from the scraps of fabric scattered around the room.

After a light dinner that, against the instructions and commands of all the adults in the room, Jon ate with the children, there was a quiet knock on the door before it opened to reveal Koru, Damian’s bodyguard.

His clothes were much finer than the battle-ready armour Jon had seen him in since he arrived, and he felt a sense of honor wash through his system at the thought.

“It’s time.” Koru mumbled. Jon stumbled to his feet, and practically ran after him. The women and the children cheered in his wake, sending salutations and well-wishes after him.

Koru led him outside and down a path that seemed to leave the small village completely. Suddenly, the path took a sharp incline into the hills surrounding them, and Jon felt like they were walking into the clouds.

The end of the path opened into a clearing of pure stone, a cliff jutting into emptiness. The sky around them was a deep orange, the sun, giving off rays of golden light through passing clouds, merely a sphere of blood red on the horizon.

It was beautiful.

But Jon didn’t even see it.

Because Damian was there, with Ra’s and Goliath, standing on the edge of the world. His hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the cold earth below him.

He and Ra’s were in similar clothing, both green with golden accents, but Damian’s seemed a little more formal. The golden patterns a little more detailed, a sword fastened on his hip with a sash.

He looked a like a king on his coronation day.

And he was breathtaking.

The snow crunching under their feet alerted the others to their presence, and Damian spun around instantly. His eyes widened at the sight of Jon, and Jon had a feeling he was just as enamored with what he saw as he himself was.

Koru didn’t go with him as he walked forward, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice anything, Damian was the only thing that existed. Not the cold, not the assassins, not their superhero fathers.

Nothing.

“Stunning.” Damian breathed as Jon reached him. Jon smiled as he reached for his hands. Damian grabbed at them greedily.

“Those ladies know what they’re doing.” Jon laughed. He looked Damian up and down, then blinked, and looked at himself. “Oh…oh, that’s cute.”

“Hm?”

“The robes.” Jon grinned, nodding down to his dark yellow clothing, with green embroidery. “Mine’s the opposite of yours. You know, minus the sword part.”

“…Indeed.” Damian hummed, seemingly just noticing it himself. He smiled. “Very…cute.”

Ra’s suddenly cleared his throat. “Are you two ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Jon answered instantly.

“Don’t expect anything overly sentimental, Mr. Kent.” Ra’s warned, pulling a notebook from his own jacket. “This will be quick.”

“The quicker the better.” Jon grinned, squeezing Damian’s hands. Damian smiled warmly back. “Honestly, we can say our personal vows later. You can just skip the to ‘I do’ part, Ra’s and it’d be – oh!”

Damian frowned. “What?”

“I forgot.” He turned. “Koru? You still have them?”

“Of course.” Koru scoffed, offended. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something Damian couldn’t see, dropping it into Jon’s outstretched hand. When Jon pulled his hand back, Damian couldn’t help but gape.

Two rings, made out of the black stone of the mountains surrounding the village.

“Told you I’d make you one.” Jon said sheepishly.

“When?”

“Last night, when you were sleeping.” Jon laughed. “You’re a heavy sleeper when you’re happy.”

Damian’s face reddened with embarrassment, but Jon paid it no mind. Instead, he reluctantly let go of Damian’s hand, only to slowly slip the ring on. Ra’s took the hint, and began reciting the vow for Jon to repeat.

Jon didn’t hear a word he said. Repeated on autopilot, waited until he had permission to say the two words he wanted to most.

“I do.”

And Jon could have sworn that Ra’s said the vows slower for Damian, just to torture them both. So instead, he focused on the warmth of Damian’s fingers as he gifted him with the second ring. Laughed as Damian then reeled Jon in, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

He was already descending as he whispered, “I do.”

The universe restarted when they kissed; the second coming of the Big Bang. It took all Jon had not to clutch at Damian as tight as he could, and float off into the sky like a runaway balloon.

When they parted, Jon leaned their foreheads together. Goliath shrieked happily into the darkening sky.

“I love you.” He murmured, running his thumb along Damian’s cheek. “More than…than…I don’t even know what. Everything.”

Damian chuckled as Ra’s stepped away.

“You’ll both catch your death out here if you stay much longer. And it would be rude of you to die before your own reception.” He called over his shoulder. Jon leaned back, staring after the old man in confusion. Ra’s grinned. “The al Ghul heir just married. Even I am not so cruel as to say that’s not a time for celebration.”

Damian took his hand, tugging him along a few feet behind Ra’s and Koru. Goliath stayed behind them. “Why do you think no one else was up here, Beloved? They were preparing the food for the wedding feast.”

The party was a blur. But the best night of Jon’s life.

There was music, and dancing. He danced with the women who dressed him, and even a few of the assassins who, literally a day before, had swords to his throat. Ra’s even shook his hand at some point in the evening, muttering a tender. “Love him properly, or I’ll rip your throat out with my own hands.”

He danced with Damian, and they both danced with the children. Jon watched in amazement as the kids swarmed Damian, presenting him with tiny gifts like a flower or drawing, or those cloth crowns they’d made him earlier. Smiled as Damian thanked each child individually, let them climb all over him and drag him this way and that.

He thought he understood why they called him their Prince now.

But the best part, the most magical part of the night, was when the party was over, and they went back to Damian’s quarters. When Damian lit all those candles again and then came to the bed and laid in his arms.

There was no sex. Jon probably wouldn’t have wanted it even if it were offered. There was just basking in the presence of each other. Staring at each other in the dim, warm glow of the candles. Holding hands that now bore matching rings. Holding each other.

“Beloved.” Damian whispered. Jon closed his eyes, and hid his face in Damian’s throat. Damian ran his fingers through his hair. “My dear Beloved.”

It was the best night of Jon’s life.

He stayed for another two weeks. He befriended many of those living in the compound, and helped where he could, where he didn’t think his morals would be tested. Painting the kitchen and planting in the greenhouse, not sitting in on treaty negotiations or looking over scientific blueprints like Damian was with Ra’s.

But two weeks still wasn’t long enough, and saying goodbye – that he’d call, that he’d visit whenever he could, that he’d still listen for his heartbeat every second of every day – still ripped his soul out.

And Damian had smiled, but Jon could see the pain behind it anyway.

Because they both knew that along with missing each other, it would be hard. Because Jon couldn’t tell anyone. Didn’t want to tell anyone. Because Damian was his, and he couldn’t let anyone know he knew where he was. Where the League of Assassins was. Wouldn’t put him in that danger. Wouldn’t put those families and children he’d met and come to already love in that danger.

(Knew despite the acceptance of the marriage, if Damian got out of line, Ra’s would threaten Jon. Use Jon against Damian any chance he got.)

So he couldn’t brag about his husband. Couldn’t tell his parents he was married, couldn’t tell Dick, worried out of his mind, where his brother was. Had to lie about the ring on his finger. Yes, it was where you put a wedding band, but if he was married, he would have said something! Obviously! Besides, who would he marry? His last boyfriend disappeared into the wind!

And then most obvious problem. Jon was still a superhero. Damian the heir to one of the largest underground crime organizations in the world. Emergencies arose. Schedules were changed. There was never a promise of when they would see each other next. Never a promise that either of them would be alive tomorrow.

And that just sucked.

It was about a year and a half later, and Jon was sitting at his desk. The final bell had just rung on a Friday afternoon, and his students were gone for a long weekend. He just had to finish marking down the grades of Wednesday’s tests, schedule a parent-teacher conference or two and then put in that maintenance request to Phyllis, then he could go enjoy the long weekend himself.

A three-day weekend in the mountains sounded great right about now.

So he was a little embarrassed when the gentle knock on his doorframe made him jump. But the embarrassment was quickly replaced by surprise.

“Dick?” He asked incredulously.

Dick Grayson, newly minted mayor of Bludhaven, stood there, a smirk almost hidden by the beard around it. Jon still couldn’t get used to that facial hair, no matter how long he’d had it.

“Howdy, Jon.”

“W-what are you doing here?” Jon scrambled to his feet. “Everything okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Dick waved off, leaning against one of the desks. “It’d just…been a while.”

“I suppose…” Jon trailed off suspiciously. “But I’ve known your family long enough to know that no one just stops by without reason.”

Dick laughed. “You always did spend way too much time with Damian. Sounds like something he’d say.” That smirk widened. “How is he, by the way?”

Jon’s heart sputtered, but he kept his face the same. “How would I know? I haven’t seen him since he disappeared, just like you. What’s it been, two years now?”

“Well, I mean. I just figured you’d seen him since then.” Dick shrugged nonchalantly. “With you being his husband, and all.”

Jon opened his mouth to respond, to give the same lies as always, when Dick suddenly reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and skimmed it before showing it to Jon.

A marriage certificate.

Jon knew there was one. Knew Ra’s and his League was able to pull strings and get one expedited for their cliff side ceremony. He’d signed it, Damian signed it, Ra’s and Koru signed it. Then it was discreetly put into the United States’ system. No fanfare, no newspaper or tabloid announcements, no one knowing it was even there to look for either.

Jon closed his mouth and gulped. “…How did you find that?”

“Being a mayor gives you some privileges, I’ve found.” Dick hummed, even as Jon came around his desk and took the paper from his hand. “And I found myself missing my brother the other day, so I looked him up. Thought I might find some more recent activity or sightings. And here this was, right on the first page.”

They stood in silence. Jon staring at the paper and Dick staring at him.

“Dick, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dick asked instantly, the hint of pain in his voice. “Why did you lie about that ring on your finger? Hell, why didn’t you tell us at the very least where he was?”

“Because Bruce stopped looking for him.” Jon said coldly. “And don’t defend him, Dick. You know he did. He stopped looking when that McGinnis kid showed up. And I don’t blame the kid, it’s not his fault, it’s just how Bruce is.” A deep inhale. “And then you know how Bruce is with Ra’s. He already had a feeling Ra’s took Damian, or Damian went with him, or whatever, so even if he found Damian, you know he would have gone in pissed off and wouldn’t have listened. Would have jumped to conclusions. Would have potentially hurt him.”

“…Okay, I’ll agree to that potential.” Dick admitted. “But, Jon, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because nobody could know, Dick. Nobody.” Jon said. “My parents don’t even know.”

“Famed investigative journalist Lois Lane doesn’t know?” Dick asked incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well maybe she does, I don’t know. But she took my word and hasn’t pushed the issue.” Jon shrugged. “If she and Dad are playing purposefully ignorant, that’s fine. That means Damian’s safe.”

“He’s not safe with Ra’s, Jon. I know you know that.” Dick countered.

“I do. And so does Damian. But he’s biding his time.” Jon explained. “He’s working from the inside. He wants to save the planet like Ra’s does, but he’s trying to manipulate the organization from within, make their methods more like Batman’s. Kinder.”

Dick shook his head. “He can’t do it by himself. He’s crazy if he thinks he can.”

“Well.” Jon smiled. A sad, lovesick smile. “Then he’s crazy.”

Dick frowned, ran a hand through his hair. “…I have to see him, Jon.”

“You can’t.” Jon stepped forward. “And you can’t tell anyone either.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because even if Bruce doesn’t make a move, word will get back to the League that they’ve been found.” Jon’s eyes widened. “And they’ll know it’ll be through me. They’ll know it’s because I spilled the beans and then Ra’s will punish Damian for it.”

Dick pressed his lips together.

“You know he will.” Jon breathed. “And until…until Damian can change the League or until I can convince him to come back, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” A second to think. “And I’d hope it’s not one you would either.”

Dick turned his head away and closed his eyes.

“…On one condition.” Dick said after a moment. “You put me in contact with him.”

“What?”

When Dick looked back, he suddenly seemed like he’d aged ten years. “I just want to talk to my little brother again, Jon.”

Jon pursed his lips, spun that stone ring with his thumb.

Damian was going to kill him. It was a secure line for just the two of them. But…

“…Fine.”

Most of the time, people were sick of snow by mid-February. Jon wasn’t though. And despite the fact that his school district had called for a snow day, he was up at his normal time. Only instead of rushing to the school, he took a leisurely walk to a nearby coffee shop to give himself a little reward for once.

A nice caramel-chocolate latte with extra whipped cream.

He was just exiting the shop, deciding to go to the park to have his treat. Just glancing up into the gently falling snowflakes.

“Beloved?”

Jon spun around so fast, he almost launched his coffee into a nearby window.

“Dames?”

And it was, Damian stood right there, looking far too fashionable than any human had a right to be. A gray pea coat with a blue scarf wrapped neatly around his neck. Black leather gloves, one of which held a bouquet of flowers, dark jeans and black combat boots.

Jon’s heart soared.

“Dames!” He shouted, running at him and jumping into his arms. Damian chuckled, returning the embrace. “What are you doing here?”

“I had meetings in San Francisco yesterday, and decided to stop by on my way home.” Damian smiled as he pulled back, and presented the flowers. “It seemed that it would be…rude not to, given the occasion.”

Jon took the flowers. “Occasion?” He sniffed at the petals. “What’s the occasion?”

Damian blinked, then laughed. “Jon, I think you’ve been working too hard, if you’ve forgotten.”

Jon closed his eyes. “It’s not our anniversary, I know that.”

“You didn’t have a party with your students?” Damian asked. “Or, I suppose that tradition ends after elementary school.”

Jon racked his brain. “The…Super Bowl?”

Damian laughed again. “Valentine’s Day, Beloved.”

“Oh my-” Jon gaped. He glanced into the coffee shop’s window. Paper hearts adorned the walls in decoration. “Oh my god. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

Damian laughed for a third time, reeling Jon into his arms.

“I can’t believe I forgot Valentine’s Day.” Jon lamented, leaning against Damian’s shoulder. “Divorce me, Damian. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Never.” Damian said warmly. “I know your classes were cancelled today. Have any other plans?”

“Honestly, I was just going to watch cartoons all day.” Jon admitted sheepishly. “But now I just want to spend all day with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

“…How long are you in town?” Jon whispered. “How long can you be in town?”

“Two days.” Damian returned, with a kiss to Jon’s forehead.

“Then we better make it count.” Jon decided, leaning up and capturing Damian’s lips with his own. When he allowed Damian to pull back, he smiled. “Hope you like take out.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because baby, you are not leaving my bed for the next forty-eight hours.”

Once more, Damian laughed as Jon clutched his flowers and coffee to his chest in one hand, grabbed Damian’s hand with the other, and all but dragged him down the street.

The phone rang in the middle of the night.

Jon didn’t jump, phone calls in the middle of the night weren’t new. And he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID. He supposed it didn’t really matter. If they had his number and they were calling now, it was enough.

Still, when he hit answer, he couldn’t help but slur, “Hm?”

“It’s me.” Damian whispered, his voice trembling. He seemed to hesitate, thinking what he was going to say next. “It’s done.”

Jon sat up. “Sweetheart?” He asked. “What’s done? What’s wrong?”

“Ra’s is dead.” Damian said simply. “I…I am now the sole leader of the League of Assassins.”

“Oh, Damian.” Jon cooed. He threw his covers back. “Give me thirty minutes, okay? I just need…I need to grab some pants and I’ll be there.”

And he was. In less than thirty minutes, really. Closer to twenty.

Koru was waiting for him at the compound entrance. He nodded solemnly, then silently led Jon to where he needed to be.

Jon could hear people wailing in the distance. Word must have spread already. And he’d forgotten – Ra’s was a monster. A villain. Evil.

But he meant something to the people here.

Koru led him to a large, ornate door. He opened it, and gestured for Jon to go inside.

The room was dark, but it didn’t matter. Even if he didn’t already see him standing next to that bed, the sound of his heartbeat would have guided him.

He only glanced at the dead body. It was Ra’s alright, and even without the lack of a heartbeat, Jon could tell by the color of his skin he was gone.

But he didn’t care, if he was honest. Never cared about that old man, never cared about what he was doing so long as it was held in check. He only cared about Damian.

Jon stepped up behind him, carefully wrapping his arms around his waist, pulled him back into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Damian shrugged. “We knew it was coming.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Jon tried. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

“There was no love lost between Ra’s and I, so there’s no need.” Damian pushed back. “I just…wasn’t ready.”

Damian pulled away and turned towards him.

“I…I didn’t have enough time to gain the loyalty I needed.” Damian sighed. “Many…many here do not trust me. Or do not believe in me.”

“I believe in you.” Jon offered.

Damian smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, Beloved, your opinion does not matter to the assassins now under my rule.” The smile disappeared. “I’ve already been visited by one of my grandfather’s most loyal scientists. He and I have never agreed, and he’s never trusted me. I sense that will get worse in the coming days.”

Jon frowned. “Do you want me to stay? In case he tries anything?”

“He won’t. He’d be stupid to do anything during these days of mourning.” Damian promised. “And Koru is more than capable. I am more than capable.”

“I’d feel better if I did, though.” Jon shrugged. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Damian’s eyes suddenly twitched over Jon’s shoulder. Jon turned and found an older man passing by the door. He had white hair, and wearing an odd metal suit of armor.

The man glanced in at him and frowned at Jon. Seemed to frown at Damian too. But he didn’t say anything, just continued on his way.

When Jon turned back, Damian was looking at him again, his face warm. “You’re too sweet, Beloved.” He gently took Jon’s hand. “Now come. Since you’re here, you can stay for the funeral at dawn.” A snorted smirk. “Superman attending the funeral of Ra’s al Ghul. Isn’t the world a funny place?”

Jon was woken by a rapid knocking on his apartment door. Damian must have heard it too, as he was suddenly trying to burrow into Jon’s side.

“I’m going to buy your building a doorman.” Damian mumbled as Jon reluctantly rolled away from him. “So then no one can knock on your door. Ever.”

The knocking continued. “I’m coming!” Jon shouted as he yawned. “I’m-”

“Hurry up, bro!” Jon froze.

That was Conner.

“Just give him a minute.” Another voice scolded.

Tim.

“Fuck.” Jon whispered, spinning around. Damian was still curled up in his bed, only half hidden by comforter. Jon quickly ran from the room, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him. He fell into the front door, opening it only enough for his face to show. “…Hey guys.”

Conner grinned. “Mind if we come in? We just had a killer patrol, and we’re starving.”

“Uh…” Jon hesitated. But before he could answer, Tim pushed his door open for him. “…Well, I guess.”

“Conner’s not lying. We’re starving.” Tim mumbled, bee-lining towards the kitchen. “I’ll reimburse you, I promise.”

As he shoved his head into the refrigerator, Conner smiled apologetically, clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “How you been, Jonno? Feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m…good.” As Conner went into the kitchen himself, Jon glanced back to his bedroom door. “Summer vacation and all that.”

“I’d say you’re lucky if you got paid more during the school year.” Conner hummed around a piece of bread Tim handed him. “Doing anything for a second job this summer?”

“Just more patrols as Superman.” Jon shrugged. And more time at the League of Assassins compound in Nanda Parbat he didn’t say. “Some travel, if I feel like it.”

“You meet the new Batman yet?” Tim asked as he poured some orange juice. “Terry. He’s not bad.”

“No. Haven’t had the chance.” Jon mumbled. Hadn’t wanted to was the real answer. Because Damian was Batman to him, he still had that hope. Still believed Damian would return to the title one day, permanently. “So much for World’s Finest, huh?”

“Well, you know Bruce.” Tim shrugged. “He’s kind of hogging him anyway. We only see him at galas.”

“None of you work with him?” Jon asked. He tuned into Damian’s heartbeat for a second, found it still slow, so Damian was still dozing. He could only pray Conner didn’t use his same ability, and hear the same thing.

“Not really. We’re getting old.” Tim laughed. “I’m spending more time at Wayne Enterprises. Dick’s a goddamn mayor. Cass works at Steph’s practice. Jason’s doing…whatever Jason does.”

“But you’re working with Conner.” Jon smirked.

“I called in an old favor. Timmy can’t say no to me.” Conner grinned.

“Please.” Tim snorted into his glass. “I was bored.”

The two began to banter, and Jon found himself glancing back to his room.

God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to tell his brother, and someone like his brother, that Damian was there. That they were married.

That Damian was fucking alive.

And he wanted to bring it up. Wanted to bring Damian up. Ask if Tim remembered his brother, if they’d been looking for him still, if he cared at all. Or at least more than Bruce.

But he couldn’t risk that.

So he smiled and nodded and partook in the conversation, and didn’t mention a thing. Entertained the two for a half an hour or so before, luckily, they excused themselves first before he had to start leaving hints for them to leave.

As soon as he closed the door behind them, he dashed back to his bedroom, only to find Damian still sleeping, only now taking up more of the mattress, arms spread side to side.

Jon blinked then laughed out loud as he walked forward and collapsed back into bed. Damian groaned as Jon twisted their legs together, and he began peppering kisses along Damian’s shoulder.

“…Has my brother left yet?” Damian whispered after a moment. Jon pressed his head against Damian’s.

“Mhm.”

“…Did you tell him anything?”

“If I did, do you think you’d still be in here peacefully sleeping?” Jon smirked. “Tim probably would have come in here just to kill you.”

Damian hummed.

“But alas.” Jon sighed dramatically, curling his arms around Damian’s one. “You’re still my dirty little secret, Mr. Demon’s Head.”

Damian never opened his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

“I think…I should feel insulted.”

Damian’s lips twitched up. “Most people would feel honored, I believe.”

“No, I mean.” Jon rolled towards the edge of the bed, glancing towards the drawing desk his husband sat behind. “You sent me a text that said ‘ASAP.’”

“I did.” Damian murmured, eyes following the tip of his pencil as he moved it across the paper.

“And here I came running because I thought you were in danger. That the mutiny you’re so concerned about finally happened.” Jon continued. He glanced at the candle nearest him, gently hovered his finger through the flame.

“That’s very kind of you, Beloved.” Damian glanced up, frowned. “Please don’t burn your finger.”

“But there was no emergency. You weren’t dying.” Jon sighed, flopping his hand down. He looked up through his lashes. “You just wanted to draw me.”

Damian smiled. “Like I said, most people would probably be honored.”

“I feel like I should be mad.” Jon muttered.

“In my defense, I did say as soon as possible, not right this instant.” Damian mused. “That was your interpretation.”

“Well, how am I supposed to stay mad at you, sitting over there looking like a…a goddamn angel in a wave of holy light?” Jon scoffed. “And you sit there worried about me burning myself? You bump one candle and your desk and drawings are all up in flames in an instant.”

“I doubt you’d let that happen.” Damian chuckled. “Now, despite your wiggling, I’m almost finished.”

“And what’s my payment?” Jon asked, stretching his leg in the air, curving his spine. He felt Damian’s heartbeat stutter a little. “For being your beautiful model?”

“Well, I hope some ice cream your so-called Grannies made when I informed them you were en route is satisfactory.” Damian suggested. “And…I can only hope my undivided attention is a suitable accompaniment.”

“I do love my Grannies and their cooking.” Jon agreed. He turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, gave Damian his most seductive grin. “And I definitely do love you a whole lot more.”

Jon watched the heat rise to Damian’s cheeks. The pencil suddenly began moving across the paper faster.

“I’m almost done.” Damian promised.

When he saw it was Bruce Wayne calling, his stomach dropped.

“Jon.” He’d murmured softly. “I…I found Damian.”

Jon blinked.

“What?” And it wasn’t a faked question. He felt his heart speed up. Because if Bruce, if Batman, found Damian and the League then-

“He’s…alive.” Bruce whispered gratefully. “He’s…leading the League of Assassins, and I’m working on that. But…but I just thought you’d want to know. He’s alive. He’s…okay.”

“I…I didn’t know.” Jon lied. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me, Bruce.”

“You were…you are so important to him.” Bruce sighed. “You deserve to know.”

“Can I…Can I see him?” Jon continued. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“I…don’t think that is a good idea. For now.” Bruce sighed. “But. One day, Jon. I promise.”

When they hung up, Jon immediately took to the skies for the Himalayas.

He found Damian on their wedding cliff. He was staring out into the emptiness again. Back straight, hands clasped at the small of his back.

Goliath stood nearby.

“Damian?”

Damian’s head lifted and he turned. Jon instantly took in the new cuts and bruises.

“Jon?” Damian immediately moved towards him. “What are you-”

“Your dad called.” Jon reached out when Damian got close enough. He ran his thumbs over a blossoming bruise on his cheek. “Told me…the basics.”

Damian smiled sadly.

“We…reconciled, I suppose.” Damian whispered.

“You suppose?” Jon asked gently. “You don’t sound very confident about that.”

“It’s…it’s what we’ve always said. He didn’t come after me. He didn’t care where I’d gone. He replaced me.” Damian breathed. “He…he only came here after McGinnis. When he thought I was going to kill him.”

“Well. You clearly proved him wrong. You didn’t kill anyone.” Jon paused, glanced back at Goliath. “Where’s Koru? He never lets you out of his sight.”

“He is…recuperating.” Damian sighed, trying to turn out of Jon’s hands. Jon didn’t let him. “He attacked my father for a grudge I was unaware of. I had to take him down. He then attempted to set off missiles that I’d decided against. He needs…time to think about some things.” Damian closed his eyes. “…I have no control.”

“You do.” Jon said. “You’re doing…amazing things here, Damian. I know it. Your dad knows it.”

He paused, to run his hand over Damian’s hair.

“I could tell when he called.” Jon offered. “He missed you.”

“He didn’t look for me.” Damian reminded.

“But he’s protecting you now.” Jon said. “He called to tell me you were alive. I played dumb, I asked if he would tell me where you were and he refused.”

“That’s not protection, that’s shame.” Damian countered.

“Damian, change takes time. You know that. I know that. Bruce knows that.” Jon squeezed his cheeks a little. “I don’t think he would have called me to tell me you were alive if he was ashamed.”

Damian shook his head. “I don’t know if I can change the League faster than the coming mutiny.”

“I know you’ll do everything you can.” Jon kissed his forehead. “And I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let them do anything to you. I swear.”

“…Thank you, Beloved.” Damian whispered.

“Mhm.” Jon murmured into his hair. “Now, come on. I’m making an executive decision. You need a break.”

Damian merely wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon lifted them into air and turned towards Metropolis. Goliath followed.

He should have been more alarmed when he heard the lock jiggle. Should have at least had his super strength ready.

But he’d had the flu all week. Him, having the flu. What the fuck.

“Just go ahead and kill me.” He whined as loud as he could. “Give the stuff in my fridge to my neighbor. I don’t want it to go bad.”

He heard the lock click and the door open, but didn’t even look.

“I might have some pizza you can heat up if you want.” He mumbled, closing his eyes. “If I even tried to eat it, it’s coming right back up.”

He didn’t hear anyone.

“If I puke on you, will you go away?” Jon drawled. “Oh wait, can you give me another blanket first? I’d like to at least be warm when you kill me.”

Suddenly there was a scoff, and blanket fluttering over him.

“Beloved, since when did you become so dramatic?” Jon looked up and felt tears well up in his eyes.

“Damian.” He cried. He reached a shaky hand up and Damian took it in his, kissing his knuckles.

“Hello Jonathan.” Damian smiled. “Still feeling bad?”

“Worse than when I called you.” Jon admitted. “You didn’t have to come all this way just because I’m puking.”

“Through sickness and in health.” Damian reminded. “It’s the same in all languages and religions.”

“Stop.” Jon called as Damian backed away. “Stop being so cute.”

Damian snorted. “You need fluids.”

“They won’t stay down.” Jon sighed. “…Wait, did I give you a key to my apartment?”

“No.” Damian hummed. “I could have just come in through the window, but I figured that might concern you. So I…called Grayson.”

“He has a key to my place?” Jon called. “Since when?”

“It’s Grayson.” Damian reappeared behind the couch, handing Jon a glass. “Probably since forever.”

“I hate your family.” Jon decided. “I barely even see them and I hate them.”

“I know.” Damian offered sympathetically. As Jon took the glass, Damian walked around the couch, and Jon found himself staring.

“What?” Damian asked when he noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in your evil leader garb.” Jon mumbled, gesturing to Damian’s green robes. “You didn’t change?”

“I came as soon as my meeting was over.” Damian shrugged. “So…I suppose I didn’t think about it.”

“…The Demon’s Head is making house calls.” Jon smiled weakly. “The new Ra’s al Ghul is going to make me soup.”

“Eventually, if you can keep that drink down.” Damian smiled, smoothing Jon’s blankets.

Jon felt his exhausted tears fall as he took a sip.

It was like out of a movie.

He arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and gave a fake name to the hotel concierge. The man typed in the name, stared at the screen, then smiled, and handed Jon a key.

He took the elevator, inserted the key for the private floor, and stood in the corner. Smiled to the couples and families who stepped on and off on various floors. Tapped his finger against the lining of his pocket.

And when the lift opened into the penthouse apartment, Jon almost fainted. Almost swooned right then and there.

Damian sat in the breakfast nook, practically glowing in the early evening sun that shone through the window. He wore nothing but a silken robe, open at the chest, a book open on his crossed knee and a cup of tea in his hand.

“Damian.” Jon whispered carefully. Damian looked up and smiled. Sweetly, welcoming. “You’re going to need to put that tea down.”

He barely gave Damian the second he needed to that before he crossed the room and swept him up in his arms, all but throwing him onto the nearby bed.

Damian grunted as he bounced, but gave a laugh as Jon crawled up his body. “And here I thought you’d want to eat first after your flight.”

Jon just grinned and kissed him as hard as he could.

And that’s where they’d been now, for hours. The sun had set, but Jon had never gotten off of Damian. Not that Damian had let go of Jon himself.

“One more.” Jon whispered into Damian’s neck, remarking a hickey on Damian’s next that was already dulling. “One more round.”

“Oh?” Damian hummed sleepily, fingers locked on and tugging at Jon’s hair, the other arm was tight around Jon’s waist, just above where his ankles hooked together. Jon glanced up at Damian’s amused eyes. “I didn’t realize the last round ended.”

Jon bit at his throat, and thrust his hips at the barb. Damian groaned, his leg twitching involuntarily in pleasure, digging into Jon’s spine. He released Jon’s hair and ran his hand down to his chin, tipping Jon’s face up until he could kiss him properly. Jon smiled as Damian tried to devour him, tried to act like he was the one in control.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Jon shifted his weight upwards, changing the rhythm of his movements, drinking in every sound Damian tried to hide. He carefully took the hand Damian had under his chin and intertwined their fingers, pushing the hand into the mattress. Damian tried to push back, but Jon decided he wanted to cheat, just a little, and used his super strength to keep his hand down.

Damian noticed. Growled quietly, “You asshole.”

Jon looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. “You like it.”

Damian bit his lip, lowered his eyes. Jon felt him dig his nails into his hip. That was as much of a yes as he was going to get.

And that was fine. That was good. Because Jon wasn’t lying, he wanted this to be the last round. He was getting a little bit tired, and he could tell Damian was too.

Besides, sex was cool. Sex with his husband was great. But it wasn’t even his favorite part.

The afterglow. The cuddling. The staring into Damian’s eyes and seeing the universe. The warmth of his skin as he held him in his arms. The gentle sounds of them saying just how much the other means to him.

And they’d been at it for hours. They were slow, they were fast, they were desperate, they were sensual.

So he’d hoped he’d be forgiven for rushing now, ready for it to end. He bucked quickly, bordering on faster than the speed of sound, needed to stay in his head enough not to do that, not hurt Damian beyond pleasure, but he kissed slowly. Carefully.

Adoringly.

When Damian tugged his hand away, Jon let him. Felt his heart pound as Damian wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck, held him as close as their skin would allow.

They came together.

Jon collapsed onto Damian’s chest, shifting only enough to pull out. Damian kept his arms tight around Jon’s shoulders, his hand returning to stroke at Jon’s hair.

“There is a warm bath ready for whenever you’d like it.” Damian whispered. “And room service. We just have to call the front desk.”

“Hm.” Jon smiled. He found himself pressing more kisses to Damian’s throat. “I’m good right here with you.”

Damian laughed. “Jonathan, we’re disgusting.”

“I’m okay with that.” Jon hummed into Damian’s skin.

Damian snorted and rolled them to the side. He held the side of Jon’s face, staring into his soul.

“Happy anniversary, Beloved.”

It was silly, and he was ashamed of himself.

Like, jeez, he was almost thirty, and here he was in the middle of the night, drowning in insomnia because he missed his husband.

Well…there were other things. But it was mostly that.

He rolled to his side, grasping for his cell phone even as guilt coiled in his gut.

The line rang only once. “Hello, Jonathan.”

“Hi.” Jon muttered. “You busy?”

“No.” Damian sounded amused. “It’s only seven in the morning.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.” Jon sighed. Timezones sucked. “Can you…video chat?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Hang on.” Jon said a little too quickly than he meant. He pulled the phone away and tapped a few buttons. An instant later, Damian filled the screen.

He was still in his pajamas and dressing gown, but he sat at his drawing desk, the phone propped up on the top corner. When he realized the connection was made, he smiled. “Hello.”

Jon gave him a tight smile. “Howdy, handsome.”

“Is everything okay?” Damian asked immediately. “You sound…sad.”

“I miss you.” Jon mumbled into his pillow. “It’s been months.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Damian sighed. “I’ve been swamped.”

“It’s not all your fault. I could fly out there any time.” Jon flopped back. “But being Superman…”

“Is far more important.” Damian finished for him. “I understand.”

“Cases haven’t been great lately.” Jon continued. “I haven’t really been saving the day real well.”

“But I know you did your best.” Damian soothed. “…Is there anything I can to make you feel better?”

“Come here?” Jon tried.

Damian laughed. “Anything reasonable?”

Jon glanced around his screen. “Are you drawing right now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Jon smirked. “Draw me a picture.”

“And what would you like a picture of?”

“I don’t know.” Jon sighed. “A puppy.”

“A puppy.” Damian snorted. “Alright.”

He flipped over whatever he was working on and instantly the pencil started flitting around the page.

“I really do miss you, though. More than being bummed about the bad cases.” Jon sighed. “I think I’m just lonely.”

“It happens to the best of us.” Damian agreed. “Would you like me to have Grayson come visit you?”

“Nah, he’s busy.” Jon waved off. “I can call my own friends. Eventually.” He paused, listened to the pencil. “…What do you do when you’re lonely?”

“Call you.” Damian smiled. “And when you don’t or can’t answer, I call Maya while I draw you.”

“You draw me? When I’m not there?”

“Of course. I have an entire folder.” Damian admitted, turning his page. His hair, still unkempt from sleeping, fell into his eyes. “Koru calls me obsessed.”

“You’ve never shown me this folder.” Jon pouted.

“Because I was embarrassed.” Damian admitted. “And sometimes the children take the sketches as coloring pages.” Damian’s eyes widened a little bit, a blush dusting his cheeks. “The…less lewd ones, anyway.”

“Oh my god, if you want me to sext you, just ask.” Jon teased, the tension in his heart releasing a little.

“I prefer the real thing.” Damian chuckled. He made a few more lines across the page, then picked it up, twisting for the camera. “How’s this?”

It was a Dalmatian, with large dark spots and big eyes. Floppy ears and a doggy grin.

“It’s perfect.” Jon smiled. “Send it to me so I can color it?”

Damian snorted. “Sorry, it’s only available for pick-up.”

“Okay. I’ll come get it soon.” Jon yawned. “…Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You need your rest.” Damian hummed.

“…Draw me to sleep?” Jon asked. He felt pathetic, like he was begging.

“Of course.” Damian nodded, reaching for another piece of paper. “Want me to tell you a story as well?”

“Sure.” Jon sighed. “Tell me about your day yesterday.”

“Not that exciting, but if you wish.” Damian nodded.

Jon closed his eyes, and drifted off to the sound of a scratching pencil and Damian’s soft voice.

Jon was in the middle of class, when he got the sense something was wrong. He tripped over the cord of his overhead projector, and his students laughed, but he told them to get an early start on their homework as he scrambled to his desk.

He checked all the news sites, but there didn’t seem to be anything urgent. No mention of his parents or friends. No catastrophe or apocalypse. Everything was fine.

But then he tuned in to Damian’s heartbeat. And everything was not fine.

It was slow and weak. And Jon had heard that sound before.

He’d heard the sound of someone dying before.

He jumped to his feet and out of the classroom, ignoring his students’ calls after him. He ran to the principal, rambled about a personal emergency, then was gone before his boss could ask any questions.

Jon waited until he was off campus before he took to the skies.

But there was a problem, he realized, as he neared Nanda Parbat. He could still hear Damian’s heartbeat, he was still alive, but it…it wasn’t here. The heartbeat was far away. Faint.

He slowed above the League compound, hesitating. He could see men running around, shouting, loading into airships.

He could also see a trail of blood, leading away. He could see where the trail ended, at a mess of claw marks.

Goliath.

There was blood. There were marks from Goliath. Damian was dying.

Where would Goliath take him?

It took him two seconds to realize.

Gotham.

Jon spun around and took off for a second time.

He knew he was on the right path when Damian’s heartbeat got louder. But it didn’t bring any comfort, because it didn’t sound like it was getting any stronger.

As he reached Gotham airspace, he got a glimpse of Goliath, flying behind some black dot, heading towards Wayne Tower. So he didn’t think. Didn’t decide. Let instinct take over and followed them.

He saw the assassins coming in the distance, and he felt his anger grow.

The mutiny must have happened. Damian’s worst fear.

He balled his hand into a fist.

He would not let them hurt him.

He burst into the building, hot on Goliath’s tail. He landed and slid across the tiles, destroying them completely. The black dot, Batman, spun around, stepping in front of Bruce, who had appeared in the room.

“What happened?” Jon bellowed.

“Jon?” Bruce asked. “How did you-”

“What. Happened?” Jon repeated. He glanced at Goliath, Damian limp in his arms. Blood oozed from wounds all across his body. He was unconscious. “…Can you save him?”

Bruce looked over. “…Yes. Goliath, over here. To the recovery tank.”

And Jon never felt so helpless as now, as he watched Terry McGinnis help Goliath lower Damian into water that looked far too much like Lazarus. As little robots swarmed his body.

He stood next to the machine, wishing more than anything that he could stick his hand in the liquid and hold Damian’s.

“…How long?” Bruce suddenly asked. Jon twitched and looked up at him. Batman and the little boy who Jon only just now noticed were tending to Goliath.

“What?”

Bruce pointed to Jon’s hand, to his ring. He pointed to the matching one on Damian’s hand. “How long?”

“…Seven years.” Jon murmured tiredly. “We eloped in Nanda Parbat.”

Bruce closed his eyes. “You never told me.”

“I never told anyone.” He tilted his head in a wince. “…Dick only found out on accident.”

“Dick knew?” Bruce asked. Jon nodded.

“I swore him to secrecy. I’m…kind of surprised he followed through.” Jon admitted. “I…you two were on bad terms. I didn’t want you going in there and potentially starting a war. Potentially hurting each other.”

“We saw each other last year.” Bruce whispered.

“I never stopped him from telling you. That was his choice.” Jon added. “…How did you not notice the ring then? Damian said he never takes it off.”

“He wore gloves the whole time.” Bruce shrugged. “It wasn’t something I was looking for.”

Terry reappeared then, and he and Bruce began to talk about the situation at hand. The city currently being overrun with assassins.

Jon didn’t care.

He had just crossed his arms, was tapping on his forearm, when suddenly, Damian burst from the water in a frenzy. He was screaming and disoriented, and he set his sights on the new Batman.

“Kill.” Damian hissed. Bruce tried to grab for him, but he was too slow in his old age, and missed. But that was fine. That was cool.

Jon was between Damian and Terry in a millisecond.

“I’ll…kill…” Damian breathed, fist still ready. Jon just smiled, and took his face in his hands.

“I’d like to see you try.” Jon mused, leaning down to kiss him. Damian instantly became putty in his hands.

“…You’re with family.” Bruce offered behind them, as Damian’s mind seemed to catch up. His spine straightened, and he reached out to hold Jon’s waist. “You’re safe.”

Jon pulled back, but continued to hold his face as he repeated, “You’re safe.”

“Well. For now.” Terry interjected. “Mind telling us what the hell is going on, so we can maybe save the world?”

Damian sighed, stepping away from Jon. But not too far. Not far enough where Jon couldn’t immediately hook their fingers together. “His name is Zeh-ro. But some call him Mr. Zero…”

It was kind of cool, if Jon thought about it. There was a short ice age. Dick showed up, his daughter too. Damian played well with others. And Zeh-ro was taken down, his plan destroyed.

The Earth saved. Millions upon billions of people were saved.

“The League is yours again.” Jon hummed, watching Matt jump around the roof with Goliath. “…So, I take it you’ll be leaving again soon?”

“…Well, not necessarily.” Damian shrugged. “I mean, Nanda Parbat was turned into a launch pad, and is currently unlivable. The families there have been moved to safer ground, and those remaining loyal to me are all here or protecting the families, so.” He looked at Jon. “You’re stuck with me for the time being.”

“Great.” Jon smiled. He stepped to the side, winding one arm around Damian’s waist. “Better than great, actually.”

“Oh?”

“In fact, the longer you’re here, the more time I’ll have to think up a plan to keep you with me forever.” Jon smirked, bouncing his nose off Damian’s cheek. Damian laughed, and leaned into him. Jon looked across the roof. He could see Dick glancing their way as he spoke with Bruce, a warm grin on the old man’s face himself. “And I don’t think I’m the only one who might be happy with that.”

Damian looked over himself. “…You’re all a bunch of old, sentimental fools.”

“…I’m younger than you.” Jon reminded.

Damian pursed his lips. “Old, sentimental fool.”

Jon laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the city. Goliath responded with a happy roar of his own. Damian smirked as the McGinnis brothers, Graysons and Bruce laughed too.

It was a good day.

“…Welcome home, Damian.” Jon whispered.

Damian sighed, taking hold of the hand Jon had on his hip and leaning into his chest. “Thank you, Beloved.”

#jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami

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