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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 years

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Patience (2)

Summary: You work on the plans for Bruce' penthouse. Gabe seems to have a new favorite person. Bruce asks you out on a... date? what....

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Rating: G

Warnings: fluff, a lil angst, Bruce and a baby

A/N: This is a series now? Another part of this thing I didn't plan to write and from which I still have no idea where this is going.

Read Part One here

Bruce Wayne was… odd. At times.

He didn’t talk much, at least not in the beginning. That was, if you got to see him at all. It got better once Alfred was released from the hospital. Alfred who immediately gave you full access to start the renovations of the tower. He even offered to hire a nanny for Gabe but you wouldn’t have that.

You wanted to be there for your… your son. God that still felt weird to say.

So you worked when Gabe was asleep. Mostly.

You questioned in the beginning if you shouldn’t check in with Bruce about all this but Alfred assured you that you could just do whatever you wanted. It wasn’t like you couldn’t make it worse.

Which… didn’t make you feel very good about your skills but hey, you were living in one of the safest places in the city, for free, so you started with the work.

Bruce was in and out of the place. Gone most of the nights. You didn’t question where he went, it wasn’t your place but you couldn’t help being curious.

Breakfast with him became a daily occurrence three weeks into your stay. There weren’t many words spoken. Just pleasantries in the beginning. It was awkward and you didn’t know how to talk to him. The thought that he was probably one of the richest men on the planet for some reason in the back of your head.

Even if he didn’t give off those vibes. It took a month into your stay to see him in a suit rather than some sweatpants and a ratty shirt.

“You look different,” you said as he walked into the living room where you were working on the final sketches of the penthouse renovation.

Gabe sat on your lap, clapping his hands together as he looked up at you. You smiled down at him before you looked up at Bruce who was walking over to you with slow steps.

“Thanks?” he said and you chuckled.

“It looks good. Really. It’s just…”

“Different,” he said, his lips twitching into a small grin.

Gabe cooed at you, grabbing your nose.

“What do you say Gabe?” you asked him and he tilted his head to look at you before he tried to put his fist in his mouth. You heard Bruce chuckle and you looked up at him, suddenly struck by the fact that he looked so much younger when he smiled.

“How is he holding up?” he asked, sitting down next to you at the table.

“I don’t think he realises what is happening? He’s just a baby. But sometimes when he’s crying and looking at me I feel like he knows. He must know something is up. I… I’m doing everything I can to make sure he gets to have a happy childhood.”

“You’re doing a great job,” Bruce said and you turned your head so you could look at him. His blue eyes were so similar to Gabe’s. If you wouldn’t know who Gabe’s father was, you would maybe think that he…

Gabe leaned over, making grabby hands at Bruce who looked down at him with unsure eyes. You bit your lip to hide your smile.

“If you’d like to hold him I could show you the plans I have for the penthouse?” you offered. “Alfred said that you wouldn’t care, but it’s your place and… honestly I would feel weird just starting renovations without you at least giving the impression to be on board with what I’m planning?” you said. Bruce looked at you, leaning a little closer as he peaked over the plans on your laptop. He was freshly shaven, his hair combed back. He looked... He looked really good. His aftershave lingered in your nose and you closed your eyes for a moment, shuddering at how good it smelt. You opened your eyes when he leaned back.

“I don’t have much time. Alfred will come looking for me.”

“Oh. Well… Maybe another time?” you said, hopefully not sounding as disappointed as you were.

“No. I’m just saying… We might have to continue this tonight,” he said.

“Tonight?” you asked surprised.

“Yeah I’m… I’m staying in tonight,” he said. Gabe wiggled impatient in your lap, still leaning over to Bruce who was now fully smiling down at the baby in your lap as his hands carefully reached for him. You let go of Gabe as Bruce pulled him into his lap, turning him around so Gabe and him were facing into your direction. You swallowed once, as you tried to stop the grin sneaking to your face.

You must have been staring for too long as you heard Bruce cough, a grin on his lips, definitely having caught you looking at him. You felt your cheeks getting warm before you turned your head towards the laptop.

“So here are the plans I have for the new entry area….”

Bruce had to leave a half hour later, escorted by a very inpatient looking Alfred.

Gabe was… not happy his new friend had to leave. He had cried a full hour before he fell asleep exhausted. When he woke up from his nap you stayed in your room with him. Lately Gabe had begun to crawl. And the rest of the penthouse wasn’t… baby friendly. So you stayed inside your room with him to keep him safe. And contained, cause oh boy was he fast. He was hiding behind a chair while you pretended not to see him, making him laugh adorably.

“Where are you Gabe? I can’t find youuuu,” you said in mock disappointment and he tilted his head behind the chair, giggling so much he fell to his side. He stopped laughing, seemingly thinking about how to react before he laughed again as you grinned at him.

“You really are the cutest kid ever,” you sighed, crawling over to pull him into your arms.

There was a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you said with a smile, turning around towards the door as it opened. It was Bruce. He was back in sweatpants and a shirt.

“Why are you hiding in here?” he asked.

“He’s starting to crawl and this penthouse is not exactly baby friendly. Which is totally okay, it’s your home and you haven’t been a toddler in some time,” you said with a small smile. Gabe was pulling at your shirt, pulling some of your sleeve into his mouth to suck on it.

“I can give you food, you know?” you teased Gabe.

“I…” you turned your head towards Bruce who looked unsure all of the sudden, “I was wondering if you would like to show me the rest of your plans for this place later?”

“Oh.. sure. I just have to feed Gabe quickly. He usually falls asleep pretty quickly. And then I guess we could roll the crib into the living room. I don’t have a babyphone and I won’t hear him whif en he wakes up…”

“I asked Dory if she could look after Gabe until we’re finished,” Bruce said and you gaped at him like a fish.

“Uhm…” he did what? Why would he… Does he want to be alone… with you? It would make sense to talk through your plans uninterrupted. It was his house after all. And there were many many rooms…

“I would like to have dinner with you,” he said and you must have looked at him like he had just grown a second head.

“Or.. not…” he said slowly when you didn’t answer.

“Uh sorry. I was just processing. Dinner as in…”

“Dinner. Like you and me. Sitting down at a table. Talking. And eating.”

“About?”

“About everything we want.”

“Everything we want.”

“And you can show me the plans for the place.”

“The plans.”

He grinned at you.

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” he teased and you shook your head embarrassed. You pulled Gabe higher on your hip, his weight keeping you grounded.

“Sorry. I just… You said dinner and my brain went to date immediately,” you said honestly.

“I guess you’d call it a date. I made Dory cook your favourite,” he winked.

“W.. What?”

“I’d like to get to know you better. You’re living in my house and I know nothing about you.”

“Temporarily. I’m living here until I find a place and a job and affordable daycare for Gabe. And I’m so grateful for you letting Gabe and me stay here. I just… This is a lot. And now you’re asking me to have dinner with you? I didn’t really think you even noticed me until today? This is just.. It’s a lot and to be honest I didn’t imagine my next date being a bill…”

Bruce stepped closer, taking the now wiggling Gabe from your hold, pulling him against his chest. You gulped.

“You babble when you’re nervous,” Bruce said with a small smile. He seemed… he seemed happy. Which was weird. You had never seen him happy? Why was he happy, why… was he so close?

“Have dinner with me,” he said and you breathed in deeply.

“Is there a dress code?” you asked, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow before you looked up into his face again. Gabe was pulling Bruce’ nose.

“No dress code. Maybe there’s a dress code for the next time.”

The next time? You sucked your bottom lip in.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“Come on. I’m showing you the joys of feeding a toddler with some carrot mush,” you grinned as you slowly walked towards your door.

Taglist:

@kiwi-the-first / @phoenixhalliwell / @ciniluv

#my fic #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x fem!reader #robert pattinson #the batman #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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codenamed-queenie · 4 years

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#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched.

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire.

So. Quarantine it is.

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick -

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days.

Then he started to get twitchy.

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.”

“Dick, no.”

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t.

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass.

Desperate for news of the outside.

He thrives off of it like a starving man.

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after.

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason -

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist.

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking.

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results.

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it.

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up.

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done.

Barbara -

Self-quarantined with her dad.

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive.

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs.

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together.

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles.

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony.

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window.

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background.

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute.

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen.

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe.

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned.

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim.

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being.

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out.

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it.

Cass -

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate.

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed.

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far.

But no one knows for sure.

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel.

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later.

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic.

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day.

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’ mostly.

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost.

Steph -

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first.

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down.

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable.

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving.

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks.

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s.

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic.

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian -

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house.

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine.

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds.

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion.

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time.

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are.

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time.

Only that he is Out There.

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had.

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies.

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat.

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts.

Duke -

Did not leave the attic for two weeks.

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement.

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement.

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement.

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa.

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally.

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others.

Duke has seen these people under pressure.

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

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raineydays411 · 3 years

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The Best of Friends pt4

Peter Parker x Stark!reader, Jason Todd x Stark!reader

Summary: After the disastrous weekend, you and Peter are going through a rough patch. It doesn’t help that he seems to get set off whenever Pietro or Jason was around.

<A/n: Hey yall, sorry about posting this so late! I’ve just been really stressed with school and life. This is a bit shorter than usual but stay tuned!

After that horrible day out, you were glad to get some time off with your dad. Or at least you were, until it was revealed that he had yet another meeting with Mr. Wayne.

“I’m sorry kiddo, I promise as soon as I’m done its gonna be just you and me” Your dad says with a frown. Then he kisses your forehead, ruffles your hair, and walks out of your room. You sigh and flop back down on your bed. You really were looking forward to spending time with your dad. Plus, you couldn’t even bother anyone else on the team as everyone was on a mission or something.

“Ms. Stark, there seems to be a group of boys outside your door.” FRIDAY says suddenly, scaring the crap out of you.

“Pull up the security footage Fri”

On your table you can see Jason, Tim, and Damian. They seemed to be arguing about something, Jason looking annoyed as usual. You tell FRIDAY to play the audio.

“Don’t be an idiot Todd, if she wanted to come out she would have by now, besides, it seems like she’s tolerated your presence enough for a night.”

“Shut up demon. Why are you even here if you’re so sure she doesn’t want to talk to us.”

“I have my reasons”

“Aww do you have a crush Dami?”

“Shut your mouth Drake”

“No I think you’re on to something replacement...you got a crush on my girl, demon?”

“Oh don’t be delusional Todd, a woman of that caliber wouldn’t be fooled by your cheap flirtation tactics.”

Geez, you forgot how...proper Damian was.

“Wait...my girl” You think to yourself, blushing slightly at the thought. You get up from your bed and quickly run to your closet, looking for more presentable clothes than your dads ratty Led Zeppelin shirt. You finally found a striped long sleeve shirt and some overall shorts. You take the bonnet off of your head and let your curls out into a fro.

You wait a few seconds, watching the boys argue some more and then quickly open the door.

The sudden silence and wide eyes of the three boys makes you laugh out loud.

“Hello boys” you say with a smirk.

Damian turns a deep red, stuttering out a hello before looking down at the ground, Tim just smiles and waves, and Jason smirks back.

“Hey doll”

“Ew. that’s what Bucky calls me: you say with a snort. Tim and Damian snicker at Jason fail and he turns around to glare at them.

“So..did you need anything or..”

Before Jason can speak up, Damian beats him to it.

“Yes, we were wondering if you would like to accompany us while our fathers are at the meeting?” He smiles looking up at you with big eyes.

You find this adorable, “ Aw, of course! I’d love to spend time with you”

You ruffle his hair, then turn around to get your phone and shoes. As you turn your back, you miss the smirk Damian throws to Jason and the glare Jason sends back.

Putting on your shoes, you walk back up to the boys, “Okay ready! What did you guys wanna do?”

“There’s a new interactive exhibit at the Science museum...” Tim suggests fiddling with his phone.

“Sounds boring.” Jason drawls as he walks round your room examining your knick knacks and pictures. Damian scoffs at his older brother.

“Have you no class? I’m sure Ms. Stark does not appreciate you rummaging through her belongings.”

“Oh, Damian you can call me Y/n, we’re all friends here.” You quickly say, trying to stop an argument before it started. “ And Tim, I haven’t been to the Science Museum since I was a kid, so I’d love to go”

“Oh great, we get to go to the nerd museum..” Jason mutters.

“You calling me a nerd Todd?” You tease

“Well, if the shoe fits, Princess”

You roll your eyes and walk out of the room, “Whatever, come on boys we don’t have all day.”

As you walk, you can hear the three boys squabbling quietly behind you. You let out a small laugh, amused by their antics.

Walking into the common room, you pass by Wanda and Pietro, who were sitting on the couch watching some show.

“Hey guys!” You greet, with a warm smile.

“Y/n!” Wanda beams, pausing the tv as she turns to you, “ There you are! I was looking for you earlier-” “WE were looking for you earlier.”

Pietro cuts in with a smile. Wanda glares at him for interrupting her.

“Yes, we were.” She continues.

“Oh,” You say, “ Whats up?”

Wanda pats the seat next to her, in between her and Pietro.

“Tell us, how did your day out go yesterday?”

“Yes, did the spider boy finally confess his feelings for you” Pietro teases.

You sit down in between them with a sigh. You give Wanda a look that has her shaking her head.

“Oh no, what happened?” She asks, frowning.

“He’s going to homecoming with Liz..” You say, eyes watering at the memory.

“That idiot.” Pietro mutters, “ I saw his face when I kissed your forehead! He was jealous!”

“I don’t think so Piet..” You mutter, looking down, “ I think he just didn’t expect us to be friends.”

“ Well what else happened?” Wanda asks rubbing your arm softly

“ He didn’t talk to me all day, and when he did it was after Liz left. Plus he was really rude to Jason”

Wanda arched an eyebrow at that. “ He ignored you?!”

“ Yeah... and then towards the end of the night he acted like he was mad at ME. Can you believe that”

Pietro shook his head and Wanda looked irritated.

“Don’t worry Y/n, sooner or later he’ll get his head out of his ass. You shouldn’t waste your time over him.”

“i know..I just--” “ Y/N! Are you ready? Bruce let me borrow the car!”

Jason, Tim, and Damian ran in to the room panting and pushing each other.

You laugh, “ Yeah yeah, should I even get in a car with you driving it Jaybird?”

“Aw come on iron baby, I’ll let you sit in the front”

You smile, and turn to Wanda, “ I better go before those three murder somebody”

She looks at Pietro who was smirking, then turns to you with a smile

“ Yes, you better hurry along,have fun!”

You thank her and skip along towards the boys. The four of you running to the elevator.

“I bet you five bucks the big one is going to fall in love with her.”

“You’re on.”

..........

“When did you kiss her forehead?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You all finally make it to the museum, Jason had accidently taken a wrong turn and traffic in New York is absolute hell. But you made it.

Walking in you looked around in awe. You smile as you took in the environment, remembering the times you and your father used to come.

“So, what do you wanna do first princess?” Jason asks placing his arm around your shoulder. You glance at the arm then at him, but don’t make any moves to remove it.

“Well, I loved seeing the natural science exhibit, maybe we can start there?” you say hopefully.

“A wonderful idea” Damian says, grabbing your hand and dragging you off to the exhibit, “ Come Y/n, would you mind showing me your favorite parts of the exhibit?”

“Of course not Damian!” you say cheerfully, letting the pre-teen drag you away. You didn’t notice Jason huff and glare at the child, nor did you see Tim stifle a laugh and pat Jason on the back.

You and Damian walk side by side admiring the different exhibits and conversing about your childhoods.

“I miss being able to be out freely” You say facing a replica dinosaur “After dad became Iron Man, it was like the whole world was watching even closer, and it was too dangerous to be outside..”

Damian nodded, “You do not attend regular school?”

“No, not since I was a child”

“Father forced me to attend Gotham academy after I moved in with him. He said I needed to ‘socialize’”

You laugh at the annoyed tone Damian had, “ Well, at least he cares”

“Yes, I suppose. It’s better than living with mother, that I am certain of.”

“Moms suck.” You mutter looking away, “ Who needs them.”

Damian looks at you shocked, a bitter tone took over the previous light heartedness of the conversation. That’s when Jason and Tim caught up to the two of you.

“There you are, we’ve been looking all over” Tim said handing Damian a water.

“And yet you had time to stop for refreshments” Damian deadpanned, taking the water with a roll of his eyes.

“ And stop at the gift shop” Jason added with a cheeky smile, “ Here sweetheart”

Your face burns, both at the name and gift. It was a little necklace of an atom.

“Thank you” You say, “Put it on me?”

Jason unclasps the necklace and steps behind you. You gather your hair, and tense as you feel his warmth behind you and his warm hands gently brushing against your neck. He struggles with the clasp for a bit before finally tying it.

“There” Jason says as you turn to face him, ‘ Gorgeous as always, Ms.Stark”

You go to respond when you hear a voice

“Y/n?”

You turn, only to see Peter and Ned staring at you and Jason with shocked faces.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker imagine #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x reader #jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #DC comics #marvel x reader #marvel and dc #marvel #CrossOver #poc reader #black!reader

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flourgirl · 3 years

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Waiting On The Warmth

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You accidentally catch a glimpse of Peter’s spider-bite induced abs and it brings up feelings you didn’t know you had.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Just some super fluffy pining from two dorks in love. Also, some swear words.

A/N: I churned this out this morning during my very last architecture lecture of the semester! Hope you guys like it <3

“I watched you get undressed I must have turned bright red 'Cause I couldn't stand to face you 'Cause I liked what I saw And maybe we should just be friends” -Like or Like Like, Miniature Tigers

“It’s so cold,” you whined, rubbing your arms in an attempt to keep warm. You had only been in New York for five months and your body still hadn’t adjusted to the low temperatures. “Is nobody else cold? Is this just how you guys live?”

Midtown was too cheap to turn up the heat in the winter, meaning the school was only as warm as the concrete walls could make it. Even your chunky turtleneck wasn’t enough to suffice and your winter coat was just too bulky to be wearing around.

“Y/N, it really isn’t that cold. It’s only, like, 40 degrees. Plus, it’s October. The worst is yet to come,” Ned reminded you, your classmates filing into the auditorium to watch Principal Morita’s annual drug safety presentation.

You continued in agony, your teeth starting to chatter. Sure, it wasn’t even freezing temps, but where you came from, winter just meant that you had to throw on a hoodie before you left the house.

The crowd of students jostled you around, and you huddled close to Peter, who had quickly become your best friend. You didn’t know what you’d do if the two of you hadn’t been paired up in chemistry class. Probably sulk around and not talk to anybody.

“Are you actually that cold?” Peter asked, smiling down as you held onto his arm to keep from getting separated from the group. You nodded, your brows furrowed from watching kids pass by wearing nothing but t-shirts.

“Here, come on.” He pulled you aside as Ned, MJ, and Betty saved your seats. You watched gratefully as Peter proceeded to peel off his sweatshirt and hand it to you. The only thing was, his shirt was stuck to the inside of it, exposing the lower part of his torso for a split second.

Peter Parker had abs. Like a whole six pack. Is that really what had been hiding under his oversized sweaters and flannel button downs? Was he some kind of undercover student athlete?

You snapped yourself out of your daze, blinking back at Peter as he held out his sweatshirt for you to take, hoping that he couldn’t see how much you were blushing. Sure, he had always been cute to you, but this was different. Did you really think your Lego-building lab partner was hot?

“Thanks,” you said, sheepishly accepting his offer and slipping into the warm fleece material. Even though Peter wasn’t super big, it still hung off you like a dress, making you feel like you looked like a toddler. Nevertheless, you reveled in how much better you felt now that you weren’t absolutely freezing.

“You look good. Come on, let’s sit down before we get yelled at.” When he grabbed your hand to pull you to where the rest of your friends were sitting, as the two of you often did, your heartbeat suddenly got faster.

The two of you slumped into your auditorium chairs, and you were now hyper aware of how close you and Peter always sat. Your arm was against his, and you could tell that even in just his short sleeved shirt, he was still really warm.

You had never noticed it whenever the two of you hugged, but his sweatshirt smelled really good. A light, clean smell that made you wonder if May had some fancy brand of laundry detergent that you needed to ask her about.

It seemed like hours before the overdramatic safety ad was over and the drama club had performed their cheesy skit on drunk driving.

Peter leaned close to you, whispering in your ear, “Did you know Flash volunteers for this thing every year? He thinks it’ll get Sally Avril to notice him, but it never does.”

“Uh, yeah, he’s such an idiot,” you laughed awkwardly. His face had been so close to yours. Normally, you wouldn’t even notice, but that all changed when you found out about Peter’s secret six-pack.

You shifted in your seat, trying to scoot away from him so you could brush these dumb feelings aside and not ruin your friendship. Last time you checked, MJ had told you that he had a crush on Liz Allan. Little did you know, Peter’s spidey-senses could tell something was off.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at you, making you notice how pretty his eyes were. Stop it, you begged yourself, you’re just friends. Good friends. Friends that cuddle during movie nights and wipe crumbs off each other’s faces and… shit.

You liked Peter. “Uh, yeah. I’m just super bored, you know?” you tried to assure him, wondering when this stupid thing would end so you could head off to the computer lab.

You needed to focus on your programming assignment and not how cute Peter’s hair looked when it was messy. It was honestly way too much for you to handle at this point.

Your leg bounced up and down, desperate for Principal Morita to wrap up his final warnings to the students. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before it was over and you were scrambling out of the auditorium away from Peter, hoping your silly little crush would go away by the time school ended.

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

Peter had no idea what was going on with you, but you were acting really weird. It had been bothering him ever since this morning when you practically ran away from him without a word. Did his sweatshirt smell really bad and you were just leaving to take it off in private to not hurt his feelings? He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Usually, he’d wait by your locker at the end of the day so the two of you could walk home together, but maybe you needed some space. Except he remembered the two of you had to watch Honey, I Shrunk the Kids for homework and somehow analyze the experimental process of inventing Wayne Szalinki’s wacky ray gun.

“Hey,” he greeted you, watching as you shoved your notebooks in your backpack without even looking at him. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s just head to your place and get this stupid movie over with,” you sighed. Peter was shocked. He thought you were excited to have an excuse for a movie night during the school week. You were still wearing his sweatshirt, though, so at least he knew that he didn’t stink.

You walked about two feet further from him than you usually did, and he thought about if someone saw you two on the street, they’d think you were strangers. He closed the distance between the two of you, preventing you from wandering any further unless you wanted to run into a parking meter.

Even if you were mad at him for some reason, the awkward silence let Peter appreciate just how cute you looked in his sweatshirt. He wondered if he should just give it to you, since it looked way better on you than it ever had on him.

She looks pretty in red, he thought, which surprised even him. He watched as you trudged down the sidewalk, your shiny hair bouncing in the cold air. Did you always look this good?

Peter usually spent most of his lunch period daydreaming about Liz that he had never even thought of you in a romantic way. But seeing you all bundled up in his clothes had given him all these mixed up feelings that he couldn’t shake.

When the two of you got to his apartment, Peter’s head had already been flooded with thoughts about what it would mean if he did have a crush on you. It would ruin the friendship for sure.

There was no way that you were interested in him like that. Is that what was going on? Was him giving you his sweatshirt too romantic that it made you this awkward around him?

“Hello, earth to Peter,” May said, waving her hand in front of his face to get him out of his head. “I asked what you wanted for dinner? Y/N said she’s cool with anything, so it’s just up to you and me. I was thinking we could try out that new Greek restaurant down the street. What do you think?”

“No!” Peter blurted out, surprising both you and May. “Uh, I mean, I don’t know if I’ll like eating there, you know? I think we should stick to something safe. Something that we know. How about Chinese?” He wasn’t just talking about food, but he hoped that neither of you could tell.

“Uh, okay. Whatever you say, squirt,” May sighed, giving Peter a pat on the shoulder before going to ruffle through the drawer of take out menus. “You guys want the usual? Pot stickers, lo mein, and sesame chicken, right?”

“Yeah, that works!” you called out from the sofa. Peter was relieved to see that you were returning to your usual perkiness as he sat down next to you, making sure to leave a good couple of inches between the two of you.

In just twenty minutes, things were starting to feel normal again. You were chowing down on your favorite foods and discussing the plausibility of shrinking objects. After about an hour, you were snuggled up to him laughing as the son get carried away by a bee.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned your head onto Peter’s shoulder, and he decided that you looked too peaceful while sleeping for him to do anything about it. You smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and he thought about how he could get used to having you by his side like this.

You woke up to the loud soundtrack of tubas and stringed instruments to see the credits playing. You sat up, smoothing down your hair and adjusting the many layers that you had snuggled into.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Peter whispered, laughing a little bit as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

“What did I miss?” you yawned, lifting your arms in the air to stretch them.

“Nothing much. The son gets the girl and they eat a really big turkey at Thanksgiving.”

“Okay, cool,” you said, slumping back down into the soft cushions of the couch. “Glad you were here to watch it with me.”

You felt a lot better than this morning. Even if your feelings hadn’t disappeared, you had come to terms with the fact that you had a crush on your best friend, even if you were never going to tell him about it.

“May went out on a date,” Peter told you, trying not to think about how much he liked having you so close to him. “She said she wouldn’t be back until later.”

The two of you sat in silence, something that almost never happened with how much you both tended to ramble. You didn’t want to go home just yet, but you certainly couldn’t stay with Peter looking at you like that. Is that really how he always looked at you? With sparkling eyes and the sweetest smile you had ever seen?

“I, um, I should really go now. I’ll text you my answers to the homework, okay?” you stammered, throwing the blanket off of you and hurrying to pull his sweatshirt off so you could return it. But of course, you managed to somehow get yourself tangled inside of it. “Fuck! Hang on, just give me a second, I got this.” You didn’t.

“Y/N, calm down. Come on, let me help you,” Peter offered, easily lifting the sweatshirt off your head, only to be met with your pouty expression. His face was so close to yours, and you felt like you were about to faint.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, worry written all over his face. “I know you said you were bored this morning, and I’m sure you’re just tired and ready to go home, but did I do something to upset you? You’ve been acting, well… strange.”

You looked down at your socks, which had little dogs printed on them, unable to look Peter in the eyes. His soft brown eyes that you could just stare at for hours.

“No, um, nothing’s wrong, Peter,” you lied.

“Then why won’t you look at me? Please, Y/N, if something’s been bothering you, I need to know.” You peered up to look at him, his brows furrowed and his stare intense. You just needed to come out and say it. He’s your best friend. Nothing has to change.

“Have you been working out?” you asked. It was all you could muster at this point.

“Uh, what?” Peter replied, surprised that that’s what you had been thinking about this entire time. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, um, I saw your abs this morning, and I figured maybe you’ve been working out to impress Liz or something, and so I just wanted to know, you know, if that’s what was going on.”

He paused for a moment, and you could tell he was thinking really hard about what to say next.

“Y/N. I need to tell you something.” Oh god, here it comes. He knows. He knows you like him and he’s about to shut you down before your crush gets even more out of hand than it already is.

“I’m Spider-Man. That’s, uh, that’s where my abs came from.” What the fuck? Your eyes widened in shock as you tried to register what he had just said.

“Wait, what? How? When? Where?” You couldn’t believe it. Your dorky friend from Queens was New York City’s friendly neighborhood superhero?

“It’s a lot to explain,” he sighed, plopping down on the couch and motioning for you to do the same. You reluctantly sat down next to him. “You have to promise me that you won’t tell anybody.”

“Of course not, Peter,” you assured him, holding out your pinky to let him know that you were serious. He locked his pinky with yours and smiled, a wave of relief washing over him now that he didn’t have to keep secrets from you. Well, at least not the secret of his crime fighting alter-ego.

“Now, come on, Y/N. Tell me what’s the matter. I know you haven’t been upset all day over the fact that I have abs, right?”

You shook your head, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks. Did he have super senses that could tell how nervous you were? Your throat was suddenly dry at the thought, but you knew that it was now or never.

“I like you! Like, in a more than friends way. I never realized it until this morning, but I really like your hair and the way you smell and I know this is all silly because you like Liz and not me, and that this is probably going to ruin our friendship and—”

Before you could start crying any harder, Peter cut off your rambling with a kiss. You pulled away, wiping away your tears to see the smile you knew and loved on your best friend’s face.

“I like you too. In, uh, a more than friends way,” Peter admitted, tucking a stray piece of your hair back into place. His hand lingered a couple seconds longer against your cheek than necessary.

“Wait, really? You’re not just saying that because you feel bad for me right now, right?” You could feel the butterflies fluttering around inside you like crazy, hopeful at the fact that maybe things weren’t going to be as bad as you had thought.

“Nope, I promise,” he said, holding out his pinky to mimic your actions just a few minutes ago. You brought your hand up to take it, grinning as you felt your heart rise from the pit of your stomach. “I like you a lot. You can keep the sweatshirt, by the way. It suits you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly before pulling back to rest your forehead against his, grinning ear to ear. “So, uh, what now?”

“Well,” Peter started, “How about a date? We could go to that Italian restaurant you like so much, or maybe go ice skating at the hockey rink.”

“No ice skating,” you replied. “You know I’m hopeless on skates, and I’ll probably complain about how cold it is. But I think I could fit a dinner date in between washing my hair and re-watching New Girl. I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Shut up, dummy,” Peter laughed, playfully flicking you on the forehead.

“Ouch,” you whined. “Fine, Friday. 7 o’ clock. Russo’s. Be there or be square.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he agreed, gently kissing the little red mark he had just made, before bringing his lips closer to yours.

But before he could kiss you again, May was walking through the front door. “Alright, kiddos. I’ve got leftovers! Loaded mashed potatoes and raspberry cheesecake and oh! Am I interrupting something? Is this finally a thing?”

She waved her hand at the two of you, Peter’s face dangerously close to a girl that he had spent months telling May was “just a friend.” The two of you stared awkwardly, both flushed and flustered.

“Aunt May,” Peter groaned, shooting her an annoyed look.

“Oh, okay. Message received. I’ll be going to my room now. Have fun,” she chimed, shutting her bedroom door behind her, before eventually cracking it open ever so slightly. “But not too much fun!”

You giggled, pulling Peter into another kiss before he could keep on moping over how mortified he was. Maybe your friendship with him really was never going to be the same, but as long as you got to keep kissing his stupidly adorable face and stealing his silly sweatshirts with science puns on them, you didn’t mind at all.

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xaphrin · 4 years

Text

“You’re not wearing that… are you?”

Raven looked down at herself in confusion. She was wearing what she always did for a Saturday night, leggings and an oversized Gotham University sweatshirt she got at some welcome event freshman year. Her lips twisted in annoyance and she lifted an eyebrow, knowing where Donna was going to take this conversation. “Is there something wrong?”

“You’re going on a date!” Donna slammed the heel of her hand into her forehead and groaned, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “A date. With Damian Wayne, the richest college student in the entire country, and you’re wearing a free sweatshirt, three year-old leggings, and boots you’ve repaired with Gorilla Glue. You cannot be serious.”

Raven rolled her eyes and began hunting through their living room to find her purse. She wasn’t sure why Donna cared so much, it’s not like Damian actually liked Raven. He tolerated her at best, and despised her at worst. “I highly doubt he’s going to give a fuck about what I’m wearing. He doesn’t even like me, remember? The only reason he’s taking me on this stupid date is because of contractual obligation. In fact he’s probably going to stop and get fast food and then kick my ass out two blocks away from our house so he doesn’t have to deal with the shame of being seen with me.”

Outside a car door slammed and Karen offered a low whistle as she stood by the front window. “Uh… Rae?”

Raven picked up her head, feeling a pen slide out of her messy bun and clatter to the floor. “What?”

“You… might want to rethink your clothing choices because… hoo boy.”

Raven walked to the window and pulled the curtain back. Her heart fell into her stomach and she was pretty sure she stopped breathing. Eyes fluttering, she took a long few seconds to admire the man walking up the pathway to their house. Damian Wayne was coming to get her for their date, and he looked like he had stepped straight out of a magazine and onto her sidewalk. He was wearing gray trousers and black button-down, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the muscles in his forearm bulged as he walked - how was that possible? She knew he was built, but damn… she didn’t realize she could find forearms sexy.

His impossibly verdant eyes flicked up to the window and locked gazes with her, his lips pulling down into a frown. Raven stumbled back from the window, the curtain falling over the glass. Panic flooding her system, she turned to Donna and stumbled through a series of confused noises, before she managed to finally speak.

“Dress. I need a dress.”

“On it.” Donna grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs to her room. “Bee, keep Lover Boy busy while I fix…” She looked Raven up and down for a moment before shaking her head. “... this.”

Karen gave her a salute, a bright grin filling her face. “You got it, chief.”

Raven didn’t even have the energy to be insulted at Donna’s choice of words. All she could think about was how Damian Wayne was standing on her front porch, looking like a fashion model with the full intention of taking her out on a date. She stumbled along the upstairs hallway until Donna pulled her into her room, setting Raven on the bed.

“We’ve got about seven minutes to get you looking like you are going on a real date.”

Downstairs Raven could hear the door open and Karen invited Damian inside. Their voices were muffled, but Karen was obviously talking about the business ethics class they had together. Raven’s heart leapt into her throat and she stared at Donna as she pulled a dress out of the back of her closet, setting it on the bed with a pair of low-heeled shoes.

“Why is he dressed like that? Why?” She pitched forward and buried her head in her hands, groaning. “This was supposed to be a stupid joke. He wasn’t supposed to actually take me out on a date… and dress up for it.”

“Maybe…” Donna said with a sigh as she grabbed her make-up bag from her vanity. “And hear me out on this, Rae. Maybe he likes you.” She patted a little cover up under Raven’s eyes, trying to hide the evidence of her late-night study sessions. “Maybe he’s liked you for years, but you two are so dimwitted and emotionally constipated that you can’t even admit that you like each other, so you’ve got this ridiculous, over-the-top rivalry going on when what you should really be doing is just fucking each other senseless.” Donna swiped mascara on Raven’s eyes, grimacing. “Just maybe.”

“First of all.” Raven glared at her, her lips pulling down in a frown. “He doesn’t like me. He tolerates me, and just barely.” She pulled off her sweatshirt and leggings, reaching for the dress Donna had pulled out. “Secondly, I am not emotionally constipated.”

Donna wrinkled her nose and stared down at her. “Are those the underwear you’re wearing?”

Raven looked down at her plain, faded cotton underwear with a hole near the waistband. She wrinkled her nose. “Yes. They’re my favorite. And if I have to sit through the most uncomfortable dinner of my life, then at least my crotch is going to be comfortable.”

“I can’t believe I have to tell you how wrong it is that you’re wearing that underwear.” Donna’s face fell into her hand and she went to her dresser, handing her something black and lacy. “I have a new pair I just bought. Never been worn.”

“It’s not like he’s going to see my underwear, Donna.” Raven rolled her eyes and pushed the underwear away. “I’m not wearing those.”

“Raven.” Donna pitched her voice dangerously low and bent down to stare into her eyes, a darkness swirling there. “You are going to wear the damn underwear, or so help me god, I will throw you down on this bed and change you like a baby.” She shoved the lacy underwear into Raven’s hands. “Now shut up and wear the fucking panties.”

Raven flushed and quickly changed her underwear before pulling the dress on over her head. She shoved her feet into Donna’s shoes, noting they were a size too big. Oh well. She had no choice to make it work, it wasn’t like Raven had any kind of dress clothing of her own. The last time she wore something even remotely formal was to her induction into the English department’s honor society two years ago.

Donna pinned back her hair into a fancy messy bun, and stepped back to look at her. Her lips twitched and she tugged at the loose fabric around Raven’s breasts. “Mm… I can’t believe you don’t have a push-up bra.”

Raven gave her a flat stare, trying not to be jealous of her best friend’s curves. “Shut up.”

She glanced down at her small cleavage, barely filling out Donna’s dress. Suddenly she felt weird, like she wasn’t quite herself in a borrowed outfit and borrowed make up. Part of her wished she had just stayed in her leggings and sweatshirt, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself either. Damian would never let her live it down if she went out on a date with him looking like she did when she crawled out of bed and went to class on a Monday morning.

With a defeated sigh, she stared at herself in the full-length mirror. “I look… fine. Better than before, so… it’s something.”

“Mm.” Donna eyes her carefully for a moment before going to her vanity and handing Raven a tinted lip balm and a few condoms. “Here. Tuck these in your purse.”

“Donna! I am not sleeping with Damian Wayne.” Raven glared at her, taking the lip balm, but ignoring the condoms. “I would rather choke at dinner.”

“Your wandering eyes at the auction say otherwise. It wasn’t exactly like he was able to hide the massive python between his legs, and I definitely noticed some appreciation there.” Donna shoved the condoms into her hand and walked to the door, motioning Raven out. “But what do I know? I’ve just been your friend for the past four years.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug as Raven walked past, smirking. “And if your date goes horribly awry, then you can use them as water balloons and chuck them at his pristine, foreign car.”

Raven snorted, a small smile pulling at her lips. Whatever tension had been growing between them dissolved and Raven took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. What had she been thinking? Agreeing to a date with Damian Wayne? It would have been easier to sign her own death warrant.

Donna nudged her shoulder and gave her a small, teasing smile. “It’s gonna be fine. If it goes sideways, call me and Karen and I will be there in seconds to pick you up.”

That was comforting. At least she always had her friends to back her up. Raven nodded slowly and walked downstairs. Damian turned and looked at her, and for one brief moment he said nothing. His eyes roamed her face before glancing down the rest of her body. With a low hum, he leaned back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. For a moment he looked like he was going to say something snide, and Raven was already hunting for a quick comeback. She refused to let him have the upper hand in any of their conversations.

“I have to stop at the animal shelter before they close to drop off the money we raised.” He kept his voice surprisingly even, but there was a tension at the corner of his mouth. He was obviously just as annoyed as she was at having to take her out on a date.

“Okay.” She nodded, trying to ignore Donna sneaking behind Damian and stuffing more condoms in her purse. Just how much sex did Donna think Raven was going to have? And none of it was going to be with Damian.

“And then I made reservations for us at that new Italian place by the bay.”

Raven blinked, her eyebrows knitting together. “I thought they were booked up for three months?”

Damian lifted an eyebrow, and suddenly felt very silly. “Ah. Right. Wayne. I’m sure your clout could get you into Fort Knox on a moment’s notice.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her nerves. She felt oddly jittery, like she was about to sizzle under the weight and heat of Damian’s unyielding stare. His lips twitched and his stare darted down her again. Raven pushed her feelings into the pit of her stomach and took a step forward. “Let’s get this over with.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Don’t sound so enthused. You’re the one that paid a thousand dollars for this.”

“I didn’t pay a thousand dollars for you.” Yes she did, she just didn’t want to admit it. “I did it to save the kittens.”

“Of course you did. And I’m sure making my life a living hell for one evening is just a nice, extra bonus.” He grabbed her hand and headed for the door, looking back over his shoulder as he dragged her along. “We’ll be back by eleven.”

“Or until I kill him.” Raven snorted. “Whichever is sooner.”

Donna just crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “Don’t forget your purse.”

Raven glared and snatched it off a nearby chair. Oh she was going to use the condoms tonight, to pelt Damian’s car with water balloons like he deserved.

#damirae #demonbirds #college au #I PROMISE I'm working on requests and other things #I just... gotta get this out of my system first #I GOTTA #I'M SORRY

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

Bedrest Company - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, bits of Jason, Tim and Alfred Summary: Sometimes Damian forgot just how much his father(s?) loved him. A/N: An unasked-for companion piece to my years old story Bedside Manner. Why? I don’t know. Y’all know why Dick is in here too.

It was an understanding Damian had come to early in life, thanks to his mother and his training.

When you fail, it’s your own fault, and you deal with the consequences on your own.

He knew that. He understood that. He expected no more or less.

Not even in Gotham.

So, he was confused, that first time he woke up in the cave under the manor. He was in the medbay, and it felt like his chest was on fire.

Grayson was slumped at his bedside, still clad in half of the Batman uniform that didn’t quite fit him, fast asleep.

Waiting for him, Damian realized with dread. Waiting for him to wake back up so they could continue the patrol route Damian had so selfishly took them from with his mistake in the field.

He pushed himself up on shaky arms, tried to drag himself from the bed. Collapsed off the side of the mattress instead when his elbow gave out from under him.

There was a clatter of equipment. Damian’s groan of pain, Alfred’s quick footsteps and exclamation of surprise. Grayson’s curse as he jumped out of sleep.

“…Sorry.” Damian found himself growling as Alfred tried to help him sit up, and Dick came careening around the cot. “S-sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, my boy.” Alfred promised, ghosting a hand over Damian’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Damian lied. “I-I…just give me a moment and I’ll be suited back up and ready to go…”

“Go?” Dick barked almost harshly. Alfred sent a glare towards him as he loomed. “Go where?”

“B-back out.” Damian grunted out. His chest was killing him, he could hardly breathe. And now that he had moved, he could feel a tug along his thigh, like a deep cut. “We didn’t finish the route…”

“The route…” Dick scoffed, and suddenly he was in Damian’s space, lifting him carefully off the floor. “Fuck the route, kid.”

“Master Richard!” Alfred scolded. “You are in rare form tonight, aren’t you!”

“Sorry, Alf, I’m just…” He trailed off in a sigh, and Damian felt him squeeze his arm. Disappointment, surely. How could Damian be his Robin if he was already failing on such a simple patrol? “…I need to know Damian’s going to be okay.”

…Huh?

And despite the years between the moments, the first failure with his father was no less confounding. Because, surely, a warrior as fierce as his father would be disgusted by such actions, such inadequacy. The Batman had no time for that. Bruce Wayne expected, and deserved, more.

So it was odd, to say the least, when his eyes slowly fluttered open, and found his father where Alfred normally was, checking the medical machines he was hooked up to. Prepping tools for stitches, pulling on the latex gloves.

Suddenly, he dropped the needle, and it clanged loudly in the otherwise silent cave. Bruce let out a quiet curse, fumbling with the other tools, trying to return to that previous sense of order.

“Bruce?” Someone called out in concern. Drake, if Damian had to guess, but his mind wasn’t clear enough to distinguish the voices of his less favorite brothers right now. Damian saw the shape of someone - Drake’s height, he thought – walked behind the curtain and Bruce instantly spun around, furiously shushing them. The other held their hands up in surrender. “…Let me help?”

“I can take care of him.” Bruce said almost desperately. “I don’t need any help.”

“You…sure?” Maybe-Tim asked. “…Have you been checked out yet?”

“I’m fine.” Bruce countered. “He comes first.”

There was a pause, the silence saying that Maybe-Tim absolutely did not believe him.

Bruce was undeterred. “He. Comes. First.”

“…At least lay down before you fall down, B.” Probably-Tim said. Damian tried to squint to confirm, but his vision just was not working. He heard a noise from his father, the beginning of an argument, but the Most-Likely-Tim cut him off. “I’ll finish Damian up first if you’re that damn adamant about it.”

Damian drifted back off before the solution presented itself, but he could have sworn he felt his father’s fingers run gently through his hair.

Once, he awoke in his room, curled into his favorite pillow, the scent of lavender drifting from a candle he knew sat on the mantle of his fireplace. Titus had his head resting on Damian’s stomach, his nose shoved under Damian’s hand.

“This…you did this so many times when you were a kid.” Bruce huffed softly. He sounded like he was across the room, over by that fireplace maybe.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” A closer voice, Grayson, and it made Damian twitch in surprise. Damian turned his head just slightly, let his eyes creak open. Grayson was in a chair next to his bed, looking away, most likely at Bruce.

“That means that you taught this to him.” Bruce accused. “You made him this reckless. He wouldn’t have run off on his own and try to take that bastard down alone if he hadn’t seen you do it.”

“…That’s not fair.” Dick snapped back. Damian watched his hand curl into a fist on the chair’s arm. “You…I get that you’re worried about him, so you’re lashing out, but that’s not fair, Bruce. I never let him go off alone like this. I went after him every time, I- we had screaming matches about this every other day. I would rather die than ever let this kid get hurt on my watch. Since day one.” Dick inhaled slowly, crossed his arms. “But I know you have.”

“You’re blaming me?” Bruce asked angrily.

“Immediately? Yes.” Dick decided. “Because he was with Batman before he ran off. And, as you’re so fond of reminding me, I’m not his Batman anymore.” Dick leaned back in his chair. “Besides, do I really need to give you a list? You haven’t even been working with him that long and I would need more than ten fingers to name all the instances that I know about.”

Bruce didn’t answer that. That didn’t stop Dick.

“But you know what? Why don’t we just give that Morgan Ducard fella a call, huh?” Dick hissed. “Maybe he could name a time or two when you let Damian disappear on his own and it almost got him killed.”

Even if Damian wasn’t fully conscious, he could feel the fury rolling off Bruce in waves. Even sensed his father was about to speak, about to fall into that old, familiar routine of fighting with Dick for the sake of an injured loved one, when suddenly, Titus gave a soft warning growl.

Both men stopped and looked over. Titus gave a quiet, disappointed woof.

“…Sorry, B.” Dick whispered, dropping his face into his hands. “I just…sorry. That was low.”

“I…apologize as well.” Bruce sighed. “I just…don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to get him to see how worried we get when he does that. How unnecessary it is.” A moment. “How much we love him, and don’t want him to...”

Damian’s heart thudded in his chest, and it hurt. Hurt so much it grabbed onto his consciousness and began pulling him back under. He was able to keep his eyes open just long enough to see Dick look down at him with sad, guilty blue eyes.

“Me neither.”

Then, he died.

Like he deserved. He understood that consequence. He was weak, he failed. This was how it was supposed to be.

Then, for some reason, they brought him back. For some reason, they missed him. For some reason, they wanted him.

And he’d never gotten used to their affection before, their worry when his injuries were warranted, but now it was different. So different.

It was a simple fall from a building, one Jonathan Kent had caught him from in the nick of time. So, no worries. No splatter on the sidewalk. Injuries and unconsciousness from the rest of the event, sure, but. Whatever.

But when he woke up this time, he was in his room, and could feel pressure on his hand.

His first thought was that he’d broken it. He didn’t throw his weapon right, and the enemy was able to counter the move. He remembered yelping in pain, clutching his hand, but jumping back into battle anyway, and forgetting about it.

But then he looked over, and found that there was no bandage on his hand at all. At least, not that he could see. Because he couldn’t see his hand. Because it was clutched in both of Dick’s.

Dick himself was asleep, cheek resting on their combined hands, and that’s what the pressure was, his head. His face was turned towards Damian’s, and even in his waking haze, Damian recognized the moisture on his face, the redness around his eyes.

He’d been crying.

“You worried him to tears, brat.” Damian heard from the door. Glanced up and saw Jason sauntering in. “Cried himself to sleep.”

“I’m fine.” Damian whispered hoarsely. “He…none of you should be that upset about it.”

“You fell off a fucking skyscraper.” Jason scolded. “And fell off said skyscaper because you’d been beat to hell before that. Why shouldn’t we be upset about that?”

Damian shrugged. He felt his shoulder blades pulse at the action. “If I failed, it’s what I deserved. I can deal with the consequences.”

“You ever think about how those consequences don’t just affect you?” Jason asked. Damian just now noticed he was carrying a tray of food, and put it on the table next to Dick. “Your friend, the little Super who caught you, he’s been half traumatized since. Lois called and said he’s been having nightmares of not catching you in time. Alfred won’t sleep because he’s afraid you’ll have an emergency and will wake up to you dead…again. Your dad’s sunk down into his emo-boy stage and I don’t even know where the fuck he is.”

Damian blinked slowly, glanced away. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. I know you’re not apologizing for the right thing, but whatever.” Jason said grumpily. “You’re apologizing for worrying everyone, not for not caring about yourself and what happens to you, and believing yourself deserving of this pain and suffering, which is the root of this problem.”

Damian paused, furrowed his brows. “…But I do.”

“Debatable. In my opinion, and knowing what I know about the world you lived in before, probably not.” Jason hummed. “To them? You absolutely do not. And by letting yourself get hurt, you’re hurting them, because they love you, and absolutely cannot lose you again.”

Damian still didn’t look at him. “…They shouldn’t.”

“Not your call. So stop feeling guilty because they do.” Suddenly, there was a hand in Damian’s hair, ruffling his locks. “Now rest up, kiddo, so I can kick your ass on the mats again soon.”

Jason left without waiting for a response, softly closing the door behind him. Damian waited a second, before slowly rolling to his side, and carefully shifting to curl around his eldest brother’s head. He stared at Dick’s wet face for a moment before squeezing the hand cupped in his palm and closing his eyes once more.

Another time, he doesn’t even recall what happened. A fight in Gotham, perhaps? Maybe against his mother? Maybe against Lex Luthor? Was it in California? He wasn’t sure.

He doesn’t even remember losing consciousness, or waking up. He remembers, vaguely, the feeling of being scooped into someone’s arms, of going through a boom tube, of hearing voices he recognized as Justice Leaguers.

Everything became clear, though, when he felt himself being lowered onto a cot. Suddenly everything was too loud, too bright, too painful. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel his legs.

“…fix this.” He heard someone saying. J’onn J’onzz? Red Tornado? The Flash? “I…I really don’t know, Bruce.”

“He’ll need surgery.” Diana Prince. “I’ll take him to the operating room.”

Suddenly, something squeezing his hand. “No.” His father. “I’ll take him.”

“Bruce, you’re hurt too.” Diana tried. “We’ll do what we can for him while we also take care of yo-”

“I’m not leaving him.” Bruce shouted over her. Furiously, desperately, he said, “You want to take him from me? You’ll have to kill me first.”

Diana sighed. “Bruce…”

“I…” Instantly, Bruce sounded weak. Small. Petrified. “I won’t try to help. I won’t get in the way. I…” A pause, and a hand on his head. “Please don’t make me leave him, Diana.”

There was a moment, then: “Fine. But if an emergency arises in surgery and we ask you to move, you have to promise me you will. For his best interests.”

“If it will help fix him, I will. I swear.” Bruce said eagerly.

Damian didn’t recall being lifted again. Didn’t recall movement. Just woke again to a mask being strapped over his nose and mouth. He must have jerked, showed signs of life, fought a little, because suddenly that hand was back on his head, pushing his hair.

“Shh, it’s okay, son.” His father came into view. Not Batman, there was no mask. Just his father. Just Bruce Wayne, face gray and dirty, five o’clock shadow leaning towards a small beard. A tired, scared smile. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you. You’ll…” Hesitation, and Damian’s stomach dropped. “You’ll be okay.”

“F-father…” Damian tried. He saw J’onn J’onzz come into view. Diana. Barry Allen. Simon Baz.

“Just go to sleep, Damian.” Bruce whispered. Damian heard the word anesthesia somewhere in the room. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. I’m not leaving. You’ll be okay.”

The last thing he saw was his father’s terrified smile.

The first thing he saw when he woke up in a small room in the Watchtower was his father in ugly sweatpants and a sweatshirt that he was pretty sure he didn’t own. His beard was longer now, and looked itchy. He was fast asleep in the chair next to his bed, and snoring.

His grip around Damian’s hand was still tight.

Then, Damian got hit with fear gas.

And it was awful. One of the most awful things he’d ever experienced. He saw so much. Saw so many people. The people he’d killed, the people he’d hurt. The people he loved, telling him how much they hated him.

He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop trembling. Couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop the tears pouring down his face.

Logically, he knew it wasn’t real, kept trying to remind himself of that. That the voices when he closed his eyes weren’t real. The scenes when he opened them weren’t either. All that seemed to be real was touch. Feeling.

He felt someone carry him to the Batmobile. He felt someone holding him as the car sped through the streets.

He felt someone lowering him onto a mattress, someone strapping his ankles down as he kicked furiously at them. He felt himself begging for them to not hurt them. That he’d be good. He’d be a good boy. He’d be a good solider. He’d do what they asked, no matter what it was.

He felt a warm hand take his. He felt another, larger one take the other.

He couldn’t stop sobbing.

A kiss was pressed to his knuckles. His palm held against a warm jaw.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart.” Someone said. Grayson, maybe? Or his father? He didn’t know. He could see their shapes, even amongst the visions. He recognized they were the ones sitting with him, as other, blurry shapes moved around them. Ghosts? The family? Demons? Assassins? He…he couldn’t tell.

“You’re safe.” A second voice said. His father, no doubt. It was deep and gravely. Bordering the Batman voice, and Damian would never dare forget the sound of that. “Deep breaths, son. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry.” He shouted. Felt someone press a cloth to his face, wiping the tears. “I’ll do better. I’ll do better, I promise.”

“Damian-”

“I’m sorry!” He screamed, tried to yank his hands back to hide his face. To maybe dig his nails into his skin and pull it away. Disappear from reality. “I’ll take the punishment. I deserve it. I deserve all of it…”

But the hands holding his both just squeezed their grips, as he felt a needle dig into his neck.

He was grateful for the darkness. The silence.

And when he awoke, his hands were still held. His father and his brother were still at his side. Both still awake, but clearly in desperate need of sleep.

“…you believed us, kiddo.” Dick was saying mournfully as he played with Damian’s hand. Held it tenderly in the palm of one while he slowly moved and bent Damian’s fingers with the other. “I just wish you believed us when we say how much we love you.”

“Sometimes,” Bruce hummed under a yawn. “…Sometimes I hate Talia the most for this.” Even without opening his eyes, he could feel his father’s stare. “How much she made him doubt himself. Doubt what love is.”

“Normally, I’d happily agree with you, blaming Talia. But this isn’t just her fault.” Dick reminded. Damian felt a kiss pressed to his fingers again. “We’re just as bad as she is, in this aspect.”

His body suddenly acted on his own, fingers twitching in their holds as his mouth quietly gasped, “No.”

The men both quieted, and watched as Damian slowly opened his eyes. Bruce watched in silent excitement as Dick stood, wrapping an arm around Damian’s head and pulling him into his chest.

“…You’re not.” Damian whispered. “As bad. As she was.”

Dick let out a soft chuckle as he kissed Damian’s head. He hadn’t let go of Damian’s hand, and gave it a squeeze.

Bruce smiled too. “Perhaps not.” He shrugged. “But we are nowhere near as good as you, Damian.”

“How you feeling?” Dick asked into his hair.

“The visions stopped.” Damian said weakly. “So…good, I guess.”

“Great.” Dick hummed. Bruce, also not letting go of his hand, leaned down and began pulling at the knots of the restraints on his ankles. “Perfect.”

Damian pushed into his embrace, hoping Dick could feel his gratitude. But when he glanced up, he saw Dick was frowning. “…Grayson?”

“Just…some of the things you said. From what you were seeing.” Dick mumbled. “They…they were awful.”

“…And our fault.” Bruce added. He gently began running his thumb over the back of Damian’s hand. “I’m sorry, Damian. That we haven’t…been listening.”

Damian gave them a sleepy smile, pressing further into Dick’s embrace.

“You’re here, now.” He decided, flipped his hands to be the one holding Dick’s and Bruce’s instead. “And I…I didn’t wake up from those nightmares alone.”

“And you never will.” Dick promised. “We will always be here for you.”

“Always.” Bruce echoed.

“You…you will?” He let hope ebb into his voice, just slightly, because for once, he believed it. Let himself believe it. “Really?”

“No matter what.” Bruce reiterated with an eager nod.

“…Okay.” Damian whispered. Let his body slump back against the pillow, back against Dick’s arm. “Okay.”

He was comfortable, that was his first conscious thought. Comfortable and warm, and it’d been a while since he’d felt that way. Months, maybe. Years? He wouldn’t put it past himself.

So he shifted to turn, and a jolt of pain went up his body.

He involuntarily twitched and suddenly, his comfort shifted. He realized instantly – he wasn’t lying in his bed. He was laying on someone.

He let his eyes crack open to look up at who it was, conclude if they were a threat or not. The person was rubbing his shoulder now, smiling.

Grayson.

“Hey, kiddo.” Dick whispered. There was a noise across the room and Damian spun his head around, seeing his father standing from a desk, all but jogging towards them at the sound of Dick’s voice. That’s when the setting became clear. They were in his father’s home office. “How are you feeling?”

“Wha…?” Damian looked back up to his brother, whose lap he was using as a bed, the crook of his elbow acting as a pillow. “What’s going on?”

“Are you in pain?” Bruce asked, kneeling beside them. They were on the small couch Bruce kept in the office, for visitors or meetings. It was rarely used. Damian surely never sat on it before. “Does anything hurt?”

“Yes.” Damian admitted, and for once, his stomach didn’t flip in guilt, in disappointment, as he said it. He didn’t fear retribution or punishment. “What happened?”

“Bad fight. You came across the gang before we did. There were more lieutenants there than we thought. You got outnumbered, and they…” Dick frowned, and Damian felt him squeeze his shoulder. “They weren’t. Nice.”

“Well.” Damian sighed wistfully. “I imagine neither were you.”

Because over the years, he’d learned Grayson’s bleeding heart. He’d learned what made that man tick. He also learned that if you hurt someone Dick Grayson loved, you paid the price, no matter what that price was. He would destroy you, slowly and painfully, if you touched someone in his family, and, as much as Damian still felt he didn’t deserve that attention, that care, he recognized he fit in that category. He somehow gained that protection.

Dick blinked down at him, then gave him a sly grin. “You should have seen your dad.”

Damian let his head lull to the side, to look towards Bruce. His smile was, surprisingly, a little shyer. “Do you need any pain meds?”

“No.” Damian hummed, feeling the pulse of dull pain flow through his veins. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. “How bad is it?”

Bruce snorted. “Do you want a detailed list or a general one?”

Damian raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Concussion.” Bruce tapped his forehead gently. “Broken nose.” He poked the tip of his nose. “Various bruises and gashes that we could clean up pretty well on our own. Sprained knee.” He gently touched Damian’s right knee, wrapped in a bandage. “Broken ankle and a few broken bones in your foot.” He wrapped his hand around Damian’s toes, the only thing visible outside the sturdy booted cast. Then, more slowly, he raised his hand back to Damian’s chest, pressed his hand over Damian’s heart. “…Broken ribs and a punctured lung.”

He left his hand there, pressing slightly every time Damian’s heart beat. He had a feeling those injuries were the ones Bruce was most worried about. The ones that dealt with his air, his ability to get oxygen. The one that could, potentially, kill him.

Again.

“I think I’ll be okay.” Damian tried softly. “Can’t keep a good Robin down, after all.”

Bruce stared solemnly at him for a moment, then let his face relax, lips twitch up for just a moment, then leaned down and kissed Damian’s forehead.

“You still need your rest.” Bruce chuckled. “And a few weeks off.”

“A few days maybe.” Damian scoffed. “Really, I don’t feel too bad.” He glanced around the room, the family photos on the wall. “Why are we in here?”

The men both glanced at each other, then Bruce stood, turning back towards his desk.

“We…wanted to keep an eye on you.” Dick admitted sheepishly. “But we still had some work to do for the company.”

Damian glanced at the desk his father was returning to. Folders and papers and a calculator littered it. He looked up at Dick. “…You don’t work for Wayne Enterprises anymore.”

Dick smiled again, soft and embarrassed. “…I just…wanted to keep you company. And had nothing else really going on.” I was so worried I couldn’t function, he didn’t say. “But so did your dad and he was busy.” Bruce was so beside himself our identities were in jeopardy because his work wasn’t getting done. “So…it seemed the only logical thing was to all come in here.”

“Logical.” Damian repeated. Smirked a little. “You used logic once in your life?”

“Shut it, squirt.” Dick laughed. “Did you wake up because you were uncomfortable? Alfred would scold me for holding you like this. You probably really should be in a bed. I can…”

Dick shifted to stand, but Damian immediately reached up, tugging at Dick’s shirt.

“No. I.” Dick stopped, looked curiously down at him. Damian allowed himself to smile. “I’m…good. Right here.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up, but then he smiled too, let himself melt back into the couch, and repositioned his arms around Damian’s torso, brushed Damian’s hair off his forehead.

Damian looked over to find Bruce watching them, a gentle grin on his otherwise stoic features. Damian smiled back to him, leaning his cheek against Dick’s chest.

“Thank you.” Damian whispered. Stared at his father as he clung to one of Dick’s arms. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Bruce shook his head. “No.” He mumbled. “Thank you for staying with us, son.”

He stared for another moment, like he was committing the scene to memory, then returned to his paperwork, his shoulders relaxing. Damian watched for his own second, then curled into childishly into Dick’s embrace and closed his eyes once more, Dick’s shirt still in his fist. Dick chuckled in what sounded like relief, then began stroking at his hair, softly humming a lullaby.

Damian fell back asleep feeling content. Happy. Safe. Loved.

And feeling, for once, like he deserved it.

#Damian Wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne

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absentlyabbie · 3 years

Photo

a family and (mis)fortune fic

on ao3

moments growing up in the life of tommy merlyn, part-time wayne foster child. (eight)

—————

Tommy wasn’t his dad. He couldn’t keep up the cold shoulder long, and it hadn’t worked anyways. His dad could go ice all over and ignore you until you were apologizing for anything you could think of that might have made him mad, hoping you’d get the right one eventually, and realizing as you went down the list how much you’d deserved the punishment.

Bruce and Alfred just politely left him alone and went about their business. Tommy didn’t know what he’d expected, really. He’d only been here days, and he was nobody, really. What did they care if he was quieter than before?

Dick, though, was like Ollie at his most obnoxious but times a hundred. If Tommy’s cold shoulder worked on him, it was only because he was the same as Ollie and didn’t like being deprived of attention. And just like Ollie, mad was still attention and he had just as much fun being a jerk as being friends.

Tommy felt like such a pushover that it worked on him, every time. He wasn’t any better, really. Being the focus of somebody’s attention was always an opportunity not to be passed up. He never knew when it might happen next.

And unlike Ollie, Dick had a way of making you feel like his attention was all about you. And Tommy knew it made Oliver sound bad, and he wasn’t, he really wasn’t. He couldn’t help the way things just sort of revolved around him most of the time.

(That was at least a little bit Tommy’s fault, too. It was always easier when it was about Ollie. It was awkward and just… too much when they made things about Tommy for too long.)

Tommy at least appreciated that Dick knew what buttons not to push once Tommy had stopped giving him the silent treatment. He seemed mostly determined for them to just pick up where they’d been before, getting to know each other, kind of, almost getting to be friends.

(Even though Tommy was still kind of mad at, well… everyone, but he couldn’t help thinking how Dick was still his favorite part about being stuck here.)

Dick was homeschooling this year, apparently, so they did homework together in the library sometimes. Tommy wasn’t going for-real back to school—in Starling, at least—until January, but he still had to do all his reading and assignments and tests. Dick even helped him with math, Tommy’s mortal enemy. He was disgustingly good at it.

It just sort of… all fell apart like that. Dick just wore him down with a direct assault of annoyingness, finishing him off with a Mortal Kombat-style friendship fatality. Alfred just sort of. Snuck in there. Tommy wasn’t even sure when he stopped giving Alfred the cold shoulder, only that he didn’t think he meant to. He just kind of realized all of a sudden that he and Alfred were normal again (or whatever “normal” was after only a week) and had been for a couple days.

Bruce was easier, a little. He just… let Tommy keep giving him the cold shoulder until he gave up. And after a few more days, it just seemed silly to aim it at just Bruce when he’d already forfeited like a sucker with Dick and Alfred. But nobody made him talk about it, or punished him for it, or called him a brat, or anything. It was just weird.

So much here was weird. Like, Gotham was super weird. Sometimes Bruce would have the news on at night and they’d talk about Batman—who was cool, but still weird—or about the insane criminals blowing things up or trying to poison the water or bombing a whole city block with laughing gas. Tommy doubted he’d ever get used to it.

All of a sudden, Tommy looked up and realized it was Thursday and he’d been in Gotham for nearly two weeks. Two weeks of a completely foreign city, too much unfamiliar house with too few also unfamiliar people in it. Two weeks since he’d been allowed to talk to Ollie, because the adults all agreed that Tommy needed time to “settle in” without unnecessary reminders making him more homesick.

He’d expected the time to drag on like torture, and while there were stretches it had felt that way, for the most part it all just kind of rushed past him.

Of course, now that he’d realized he only had a few more days of the best-friend-phone-call embargo, he was sure every minute would feel like three hours.

Except, for once, something broke Tommy’s way.

The phone ringing didn’t make Tommy look up from the kitchen table where he was doing a worksheet on the water cycle. The phone rang all the time here. Bruce was apparently very popular, for some reason.

Tommy ignored it as Alfred left the pot of soup bubbling gently on the stove to pick up the kitchen line, his low, polite British voice just pleasant background noise.

Until he said Tommy’s name.

Tommy’s head snapped up so hard his neck twinged, but he just stared at the back of Alfred’s neatly pressed shirt, his head bent as he listened to the caller talk.

“Yes, he’s right here, in fact. Of course. One moment, if you please.”

Tommy was all but vibrating.

Alfred, finally, turned around. His expression was all mild pleasantness as always, but there was sparkle in his eye, and Tommy almost thought his mouth was trying not to smile. “Master Tommy, you have a phone call.”

Tommy leaned so far forward in his seat the edge of the table bit at his chest. “For me? But… I thought…”

Alfred lowered his chin and raised one eyebrow. “Indeed. Now do come take the phone, it’s rude to leave someone waiting, and I’ll need to rescue the soup in another second.”

Tommy stood up so fast his chair screeched on the linoleum. Wincing, he rubbed suddenly sweaty hands down his jeans and tried to make himself walk calmly to the phone—

what if it wasn’t Oliver, what if it was someone he didn’t know, what if they asked him things he didn’t want to answer

—which only last for about three steps, the last few a scramble with hands already reaching and an excited grin busting across his face.

Alfred handed over the receiver with a wink, already headed back to the stove as Tommy shoved his face against it. “Hello?”

A beat of silence that could have been years. A beat where his heart didn’t.

And then: “Toooommmyyyyy!!”

Tommy jumped in place with a delighted whoop, then answered, “Oooollllllliiiee!!”

Finally. Finally. With Oliver’s voice in his ear, things felt just a little more right again.

—

Bruce stood in the kitchen entryway, shoulder leaned against the doorjamb, one ankle crossed over the other and his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Tommy, oblivious to his presence, show more energy and animation than Bruce had seen since Starling.

He had agreed with Moira and Robert—though he suspected Moira was the main driver of the decision—that it could be most helpful to Tommy to keep the boys from calling until Tommy had a couple of weeks to adjust to Gotham, to adjust to being away from everything he knew. It had made sense to Bruce that the reminder of Oliver, couple with the distance, might only make being away more painful.

But after watching Tommy react to something with that front of coldness and silence over an explosive anger and some hurt Bruce could only guess at, he had buckled. He was doing enough to Tommy, taking him even part-time away from the only life he’d ever had. He still truly believed it was better for him than any other alternative, but now, he couldn’t see a way that letting Tommy drift through these halls without feeling connected to anything would be anything other than harmful.

So he had called Robert. Moira, of course, would have been a harder sell, and while Bruce expected he could have negotiated her down, the idea of negotiating for the smallest piece of Tommy’s happiness felt… distasteful.

Robert Queen was a disaster of a husband and father, and a mess of a CEO, but he did genuinely seem to care for Tommy. After a short conversation, Robert had ended up suggesting the early phone call himself.

Watching Tommy now, Bruce knew they’d made the right decision. He could even hear Oliver from here, all the way across the kitchen, as the boys talked a mile-minute at high volume, half the time running over each other in their excitement. Tommy seemed practically lit from within.

Bruce didn’t quite understand the connection between the boys. Dick had teased him about growing up without other children, but he’d been right, really. Bruce hadn’t had siblings, hadn’t known his cousins, and little about his life had positioned him for close friendships. But his understanding was irrelevant. There was so little good in Tommy’s life, so little genuine, healthy connection of any kind. Bruce would be damned if he severed this one.

At the stove, Alfred shot him a knowing look—and an approving smile. Bruce ducked his head gratefully.

Abruptly, something changed in the light, bright atmosphere built by Tommy’s enthusiasm, and Bruce zeroed back in.

“Wow!” His tone had gone brassy, the excitement and happiness ringing with a false note. “Seriously, the premiere? For Pagemaster? It’s not even out yet! That’s… oh. Cool. I mean, yeah! I’m, I’m glad it’s good. Yeah, I’m sure I’ll see it eventually.” A hollow laugh; Bruce winced. “Hey, no spoilers. No, no it’s cool. We’ll just… we’ll talk about it later. Right. Sure. Yeah, I know. I wish we could’ve gone together, too.”

Bruce and Alfred shared another look as the conversation began to wind down from there, this one sadder and more concerned. Tommy had deflated at the mention of the movie. The first missed experience he and Oliver would have otherwise shared. That it would only be the first seemed to be settling around Tommy’s shoulders like a leaden cloak.

In the bargain Bruce had struck with the Queens, he had sought, ultimately, to achieve minimal disruption to the healthy parts of Tommy’s life. School. His key friendships. He knew, of course, that it would be far from a seamless transition, and that it wouldn’t be easy to make the initial adjustment. But strategically calculating the cost-benefit balance of a child’s loneliness and unhappiness was a far different thing than watching it live and breathe in front of you.

Bruce watched solemnly as Tommy said his much quieter goodbyes. He pulled the phone from his ear and simply, stared at for a second, lost and at a loss. Bruce couldn’t see his face from this vantage, but he saw as Tommy’s shoulders twitched back and rose with a deep breath before he set the receiver firmly in the cradle.

When Tommy turned around, he startled to see Bruce in the doorway.

Bruce tried a smile for him. “Good call?”

“Yeah.” Tommy pushed the word a little too hard, but what followed was a little more relaxed. A little truer. “I’m really glad I got to talk to Ollie. I… I miss him.”

Bruce pretended not to notice the break in Tommy’s voice, and Tommy looked away with a sniff. Turning his head, unfortunately, didn’t hide the shine of tears filming his eyes.

In his chest, Bruce’s heart squeezed like a fist.

He would blame this odd pain for what happened next.

Putting on a warmth and brightness of his own, Bruce asked, “So what was that movie you two were talking about? Anything good?”

Tommy’s eyes cut up to him surprised before dropping back to the floor, one shoulder shrugging. “Uh. I guess. I haven’t seen it yet, it’s not even out yet. Ollie’s dad knows somebody who works with somebody or something and he got them tickets to the premiere yesterday. I mean. I guess Ollie liked it.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “What movie?”

Another of those jerky little shrugs. “The Pagemaster. It’s got the Home Alone kid in it and monsters or something. Part of it’s cartoon, like that old Roger Rabbit movie.” He scuffed his toe over an invisible spot on the tile. “We saw the previews a couple months ago. We… we thought we were gonna see it together.”

That damn pain again.

“I could take you.”

It was out of Bruce’s mouth before it registered in his brain, an appalling anomaly. At the stove, Alfred’s head came up in alarm, his eyes wide and unabashedly questioning Bruce’s sanity.

But Tommy, in front of him, had raised his head, some uncertain, dubious hope pinching at the corners of his eyes. “Take me?”

In for a penny. Bruce cleared his throat. “To see the movie. You and Dick, of course. When is it in theaters?”

Tommy’s eyes were slowly rounding, a new light in his face. “Next week. Like, Thanksgiving Day, actually. You’re really gonna see a movie with us? Can we go then? And I can call Ollie after?”

Shit.

Bruce had hoped to salvage this offer by taking Dick and Tommy to the movie and trusting Dick to be responsible for an hour or two in the actual theater. There was no backing down to that now without denting Tommy’s burgeoning joy.

His voice rasped a little on the way out as he said, “Yes. On Thanksgiving. And you can call Oliver after.”

“Thank you!” Tommy shouted, throwing himself abruptly forward to wrap his arms around Bruce’s middle.

It lasted only a second, and Tommy didn’t even seem to register he’d done it as he was already running out the door, yelling Dick’s name.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce murmured belatedly.

Alfred cleared his throat loudly and Bruce turned to him with a grimace. “I know.”

“Do you?” Alfred asked sternly, brows raised and eyelids half lowered. That damn look still managed to make Bruce feel about four feet tall. “Or have you perhaps taken leave of your considerable senses?”

Bruce sighed and slumped harder against the doorframe. “You saw the look on his face. I can’t take it back, Alfred.”

Alfred’s sigh was much more dignified. “But can you go back? Can you truly?”

Bruce tensed, the hands still in his pockets tightening into fists. “We’re not going there.”

Alfred waited until Bruce looked him in the eye. “Will that matter?”

Bruce straightened, freeing one hand to rub at the tension in his neck. “It will have to. He needs this. And I need to give that to him. I owe him this much.”

Setting the soup pot on a cold eye of the stove, Alfred patted his hands on the front of his apron and stepped towards Bruce, grave understanding darkening his gaze. “It is a kind, good thing you are trying to do for that boy. Even if he may never know the value of this particular gesture.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Bruce insisted, with perhaps a bit too much heat. “It’s not about being grateful. He has been more than grateful enough for too long. Let him take this one for granted.”

Alfred considered him for a long moment before, finally, gracing him with an approving nod.

It was the right thing to do. It was still the right thing to do. Bruce hadn’t stormed down to Starling out of the blue and bulldozed the Queens and the child welfare system to take Tommy in without knowing it would be hard. He wasn’t afraid of hard.

This was why he had done it. Why he had been unable to simply go about his life after knowing Rebecca’s son, that frightened, lonely, small boy at her funeral, cringing from his father’s displeasure, was orphaned and alone in the world.

Tommy deserved, for just a moment, to be a child. To be only a child. Not a chameleon, adapting to every expectation that confronted him. Not a castoff, unwanted, a burden to be shuffled from unwilling hand to reluctant hand.

A child.

For almost any cost, Bruce would give him that.

It was the very least he deserved, and what he had been denied for much too long.

—————

@memcjo @klaus-hargreeves-katz @its-a-pygmy-puffle @keabbs @princesssarcastia @obscure-sentimentalist @icannotbelieveiamhere @p0cketw0tch @andyouweremine @storiesofimagination @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline @cronusamporaofficial @batsonthebrain @adeusminhacolombina @nothinglikeweplanned

#tommy merlyn #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #olive queen #family and (mis)fortune au #fam au

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

Text

Moonflower

Warning: I mean kidnapping, but it’s more funny than angsty, also slight Yandere vibes torwards the end Word count: exactly 2222 (nice) Summary: It was a rather usual evening for you, a Gala, trying to avoid the mayor, getting kidnapped- what more could you want from your night?

This was requeste from a phenomenal anon: Okay this is really silly, but cute to me for some reason. But could you write, like, reader is kidnapped by the Riddler as a hostage for Batman. But whether they wanna just mess with him, or if they like him, or whatever, for some reason, reader kisses Riddler. On the lips. Idk, I just think the idea is cute as well as whatever Riddler's reaction would be. I hope you like it ☺

Part 2 - Masquerade Part 3 - Magical/Misery/Massacre

You were almost thankful when the light in the ballroom of the city-hall flickered off and fog filled the area that was now only lit up by the lights from outside. The Gala you had been attending, one of the almost monthly charity gala's that some rich-guy (this time the mayor himself) held to make himself look better and to keep close contacts with all the other rich-guys in the city, was so boring that you were minutes away from crashing it yourself. Admittedly, your father was also an all-time favorite Gala host, but he had the excuse of having to keep face with his "side-business" and his parties were often at least somewhat entertaining. But this one? Horrible. Of course, you had somehow managed to be the only one "available" to go, so, not only were you extremely annoyed, but you were also completely alone in a room of rich old couples that tried to lick Bruce Wayne's eldest daughters, possible the next leader of Wayne inc. and one of the most prominent and appeared people in the Wayne-family (as the only one who wasn't dressed up every night and went fighting), boots. You had to admit that you could understand them somehow. Other than your siblings and your dad -who all kept it pretty low with the media- you were on every second tabloid, at every second event and on every second talk-show. You had quickly become the new face of the name Wayne, "proudly" sharing the place with your father. So yeah, you were more available than the rest of your relatives and with ever appearance in the media, they thought more and more that they knew about your opinions and the way you think. Some times you regretted your decision to keep away from the vigilante lifestyle to focus on keeping the Wayne-name alive. You couldn't quite remember when you made that choice, but you knew that as a girl, your father didn't want to train you any further than self-defence, because he was scared you'd get hurt, then Dick came along and was around your age, but still got to train and fight with your dad. Back then you'd been furious about that, but whenever he actually got hurt you felt like it was maybe the right thing to do. Then Dick left and in your anger at your dad for just picking up the next best kid and basically forgetting your sibling, even though you soon warmed up to Jason and accepted him as a second brother, you started focusing on school more and actually started to enjoy conversing with the business-people at Gala's about the news and the market. And somehow, after Jason died and you planned to take Wayne inc. away from your father as revenge for letting your brother die (a plan that you soon let go off when you recognize how much it actually had hurt him), you were somehow in the position of the heir of the Wayne empire, even though at some point -you were pretty sure- your dad asked you if you wanted to be trained like your other siblings to become a vigilante yourself, you were now on the way to business. That way was usually pretty bearable, but completely alone on a Gala that was like an exact copy of all the other ones, you would rather be stuck in a 24-hour business meeting. So, yes, when the Party was cut short by a villain attack you were probably a bit too happy. You heard the panicked calls and shouts of the other guests and quickly activated the bat-alarm ("Cool name dad, thanks for that") that was placed on the back of the necklace you wore (you had many other necklaces that included it too because in modern society you couldn't wear the same jewelry too often). Deciding not to risk waiting for them (and hoping that you could maybe make it to the small dinner down the street to eat something before one of your brothers (most likely Damian who would cling to you every time the two of you were together (even if it was more than the two of you)) found and dragged you back to the manor to check you over), you grabbed the skirt of your rather heavy dress (of course today was the day you decided to wear one of your bigger dresses), pulled it up to your upper thigh and quickly rushed to were you remembered the nearest exit to the Veranda to be. When the cold evening air hit your face you let out a small sigh. Very nice, you thought and started to walk towards the gate, when you felt a sharp pain pierce through your neck, immediately followed by numbness flowing through your whole body. "For real?" you managed to mumble before your legs lost their strength and you tumbled over, not sure if you even hit the ground before you blacked out.

When you woke up, you were almost sure that you'd be back in your home. The last few times you got taken, your family had been quick enough to get you before you even entered any hideaway. But you weren't home. You woke up laying on a rather slim matt on the floor of a small cage. You looked down at yourself to see that you were still wearing the dress that you'd worn earlier and that, even though the gaps between the bars wasn't large enough anyway, you couldn't really escape on your own in that. Damn modern fashion. When you had scanned the area around you you widened your radius to the hall your small personal jail was located in. It was literally just a big, empty warehouse, no-one in sight. "You know," you shouted into the emptiness, hoping someone would hear you, "kidnapping me is really uninspired, you aren't even the first one to do it this month." You sighed when no answer came and instinctively put your hand up to your neck to play with the necklace. Your breath got caught in your throat when you realized it wasn't there. Suddenly a spotlight flashed over the roof of the room, illuminating something that was hanging at the highest point. You didn't need to be close to recognizing your piece of jewelry. "Tell me, Miss Wayne," a voice suddenly filled the room and you started to look around, not sure where it came from, "why does a businesswoman like you have her own personal dog-whistle for batman?" You swallowed hard but kept your composure. "For many reasons," you started in the most confident voice you could manage, "I am in quite of a demand." "So is the mayor and I don't see him having one," the voice got closer and finally a figure stepped close enough for you to make out. You still couldn't see who it was though. "Well, maybe you just didn't see it, maybe it's in his shoe or something." "I don't think so," he stepped closer and you finally recognized the figure and his outfit, but you couldn't even mumble Riddler before he continued: "I studied all the kidnapping patterns of the most important figures in Gotham and somehow you're the only one who the bat always gets to in a matter of minutes." Okay, it's worse than I thought. Time to buy dad some time. "Okay first off, thanks for calling me one of the most important Gothamites," you said, playfully brushing your hair behind your shoulder, "and second if you really know that he has his eyes on me, shouldn't you be worried? I mean I'd think you would have figured out that there's a tracker in it by now." Of course, you knew that he knew and you also knew that he probably had some way or another to block it, but the longer he talked, the sooner your dad would find you. "You're not so stupid," he said, stepping closer to you, somehow already standing in front of your cage, "I've been watching you for a while now and we both know that you're just trying to stall for time, my dear." "You know, it's kinda creepy to say that you watched me. I mean, sure, you're the evil guy here, but still. Stalking?" He chuckled a bit but seemingly ignored what you said. You had to pull other levers, you realized when he turned around. "Don't you still want to know why I have my own Bat-whistle?" you shouted a bit too loud, but effectively managed to get him back to you. "Why would you tell me?" he asked suspiciously. "Well, I guess you want to know that and I really want to know what you think you could gain out of kidnapping me, so you tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine," you winked at him, mischievously. "Hmm," he eyed you, "fine. Even though it's quite obvious isn't it? You're the perfect moonflower for my bat-trap," he said, raising his hand to just slightly hover in front of you. For a second it felt like there was some kind of static energy between you, but you tried to ignore it. "I guess it's my turn now," you breathed out, ignoring the weird mood around you, "As you probably know, the bat has a very weird, honestly with a somewhat strange undertone, relationship with my dad. In exchange for some, uh, financing as my father put it, he agreed to keep his eye out for me a bit more. It's just the result of a parent's protectiveness and business." You weren't really lying, even though the way you said it clearly gave off a very different picture than what was actually the case, but it seemed like the man in front of you bought it. Shouldn't he be here by now? "Well, I guess the reason he protects you a little bit more than the rest of the city is irrelevant as long as he is searching you," he shrugged, seemingly satisfied by the answer and at the same time not really happy about it. You couldn't risk him losing interest again. "There's another secret you might want to know," you whispered ominously, gaining his attention for a second time that night. Before he could investigate your sentence, your hands slipped through the gaps between the bars and grabbed the Riddler's collar, pulling him flush against the poles and crashing your mouth with his. At the feeling of your soft lips against his, he immediately froze, fixed in position like a statue. When you needed to take a breath again, you pulled back, smoothing your dress down and fixing your hair, the man in front of you still completely stiff. "I should probably tell you that the tracker in my necklace isn't the only one on me, you should've really taken my advice and checked the shoes," you smirked and winked again, the Riddler's gaze fixed on you with eyes as wide as dinner plates when the wall behind you crashed open and your family came to your rescue. "Until next time," you shrugged at him when your cage was broken open and Nightwing picked you up and carried you out, from what you could see before you were out of reach, the man you just kissed never moved.

[Bonus]

It had been a fairly long day at Wayne Inc. and the suit you were wearing was starting to be annoying and you wanted nothing more than to peel out of these clothes and get into your jogging pants and one of Jason's oversized T-shirts. So, as quickly as possible, you rushed to your room, ignoring Damian's plead to join him on a walk with Titus, only to stop in your steps after you had opened the door. Your (alarm-wired mind you) window stood open and allowed a cold breeze to fill your room. For a second you contemplated calling someone to check it out, but your curiosity got the best of you. You quietly closed the door and sneaked over to the window with the plan to check if someone was outside, but when you stood in front of it, your eyes landed on a small package that stood on your windowsill. You looked around again, before closing the window (and checking that the alarm wiring was still intact) and sitting down on your bed to open the small box. It was packed neatly with a grey wrapping and a Y/F/C ribbon, making you especially careful when opening it. Inside was a perfume bottle that took your breath away. It was gorgeous. The Cap was adorned by a glass flower that was completely white and round, but other than that there was nothing on it that would give away the contents of the bottle. Having been briefed about poisonous packages by not only Wayne inc. safety regulators but also at least every member of your family at least once, you didn't spray any of the perfume, instead, laying it back into the box. It was then that you noticed the card in it that had the same colour as the inside of the box, making it easy to overlook. You took it out and turned it around to read the words that were written on it with the neatest font you've ever seen. Until next time my Moonflower...

#Riddler #Riddler x reader #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #batfam x reader #dc x reader #batsis #batsis!reader #batfamily #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

Text

Beach House

An escape from the city for just one weekend.

The thought alone sent an eruption of butterflies bursting into Raven's stomach and a series of tingles down her spine.

It sounded like a dream.

The drive up the coast had been idyllic. Though, there was one thing Damian failed to mention until they made it past the hedge-lined walkway to the entrance of the mansion-size beach house. Their 'impromptu' visit fell on the annual Wayne family weekend. And it would also mark the first time they met Raven. He hadn't prefaced this trip with a warning, but any mixed feelings quickly melted away into amazement.

There was nothing that could have prepared her for the Wayne family weekend in the Hamptons.

Boats and brunches. Lobster bakes, crab cakes and country clubs - it was another world.

It was hardly Raven's usual scene, but it was his family's. So for the next few days, it would be hers. Even though Damian hadn't warned her, she wasn't worried. Raven knew he had a reason for springing this on her. Besides, if she had him by her side, she could handle one trip. Maybe even enjoy it, too.

And with the view from the top of the lighthouse on Montauk Point with Damian's heavenly arms surrounding her or skinny-dipping with him on a darkened corner of Cooper Beach, she was enjoying herself - a lot.

But, one of her favorite parts of being at the beach house surrounded by Damian's family was the new ways she got to see him flustered. Whether it was rolling his eyes at Tim's caffeine intake and Dick's immature eating habits. Or even elbowing Jason for the bad puns, then swiftly cutting off his father when he insisted on camaraderie.

She even heard him arguing that Cass had to be present for the entirety of the five courses and dessert, if he did. And of course, he spent a good deal of time slapping away any unsolicited hands (Steph) that tried to pinch and prod his nonexistent baby fat.

Off to the side, watching push-up and handstand contests followed by Tim and Damian's stock talk with their father, Raven fought off smiles all night.

Damian seemed to be in a perpetual state of annoyance with his family and there were several times she found herself stifling laughter. This was another side of him she hadn't gotten to know yet - his sisters and brothers teasing him, treating him like the baby in the family and him refusing it at every turn. Raven liked to watch him like this, interacting with them. Even though this atmosphere was completely new to her, she felt at home. Because it was still him - it was exactly Damian.

But around her, he wasn't.

It was concerning when they arrived and Damian hadn't argued against Selina's offhanded mention of separate rooms. In fact, he encouraged it. And every time Raven turned the corner, he was shutting the door or closing drawers. Not only were they not spending their nights tangled up together, but Damian had morphed into a pod person when she needed him the most.

Raven couldn't believe her biggest worry when meeting Damian's family would turn out to be Damian.

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

He was pulling away from her.

Damian regretted bringing her here and introducing her to his family, so he was pulling away. No wonder he agreed to separate rooms, he had been skeptical from the start.

And by extension, his family wasn't sure about her. Or maybe it was the reverse. After all, Raven had spent far too much time reading on the beach, under an umbrella and a thick cover-up, or drinking tea on the back porch, or at the island in the kitchen conversing with Alfred.

She had a difficult enough time fitting in with people who weren't her boyfriend's family, let alone people who were so comfortable and at ease with each other they knew all of each other's ticks to a fault. Even their dog seemed to be privy to all the inside jokes and the gags.

The joking around and teasing, Raven had never had that. A family.

A real one.

It terrified her, but she was willing to try because Damian was the most important person in the world to her.

"Maybe Raven would like to join us for our tradition of game night...?" Bruce suggested at the breakfast table, before taking another long sip from his coffee cup. Unsurprisingly, Raven, Bruce, Dick, and Damian were the first ones up that morning. Raven, Bruce, and Dick by choice. Damian, of course, picked up the habit from her over time.

"Oh..." Raven glanced at Damian who peered sideways at her, a half quirk on his lips as he fiddled with his fork. He was still acting strangely. "I'm fond of games, Mr. Wayne... Chess, checkers, scrabble, backgammon, cards," She offered.

"Great, it's tonight at eight." Dick finished, before taking in a huge spoonful of Lucky Charms. "With your repertoire you can replace Damian on my team..." He coughed out something that sounded along the lines of losing streak. "We should talk strategy, Raven," he said out of the side of his mouth, while Damian shot him a glare so threatening, it could have boiled his milk.

"It'll be great to have you on the team." Bruce folded his newspaper neatly, about to take his leave. He stood, his stern stare softened for a split second. "And please I may be getting up there, but, you really should call me Bruce."

Raven felt her cheeks warm and mentally cursed herself for being overly formal. After a breath, she excused herself from breakfast as politely as she could. "Breakfast was lovely." Alfred nodded, as she rose up to place her teacup and saucer on the metal tray. "Thank you, Alfred."

As soon as she was out of sight, she headed in the direction of her room. Raven stood against the wall, resting her head against the cool plaster and stared up at the high beam ceilings.

All the names of Damian's family members and their friends, who was dating whom, and who was still speaking to whom swirled around in her head in an endless loop. Social engagements weren't terribly difficult and normally she could handle them. But with Damian acting strangely, suddenly it felt that much harder. There were times during the weekend that it felt as though Alfred was her only ally in a sea of chaos.

Not far behind, Damian had haphazardly refolded his napkin and excused himself from the breakfast table. Raven let out a startled yelp as he touched her arm. She hadn't heard him come in. "Damian - what are you doing in here?" He drew her back into his body's embrace - enveloping her with heat, the way he did to ensure she felt safe. From his parted lips to the curl of his fingertips, he vowed to wield her with wonderful wickedness. Raven felt her whole being blush, clearly there was much more than a casual caress on his mind.

"It's important." His mouth inched closer to her own. Those dark green were burning of dangerous promises, the growl under his tongue was audible. The surreptitious and svelte movements until she was backed into a corner were all reminiscent of a dangerous predator, a jungle cat. "This can't wait." Raven was almost sure he could hear her blood pounding in anticipation of whatever sinful act he planned to commit.

Her body's reaction could hardly be helped.

"What exactly can't wait?"

He pressed his lips to her neck. Nibbling and nipping with his hands disappearing under the sides of her shirt to massage her waist. Up and down, his fingers danced. And Raven could do little but whimper, feeling herself heat up faster than she had in the beach house's steam shower. And then, she melted. She was falling further into Damian's touch with her hands at last bringing themselves up to thread through his hair, as though to cement him even more tightly against her.

"My need for you... Something about you in the house I spent my summers in growing up..." Damian let out a ragged breath. "But not being able to touch you... I'm not going to make it..." He attacked her jawline, chin and cheeks with an onslaught of frantic, feverish kisses. "But, I promised myself I would wait..." Those green eyes singed her.

"Damian..." She gasped at his words, smoldering gaze, and his fingers sliding down the expanse of pale back before they ran across the dimples above her ass. Raven only managed to pull herself back a fraction of an inch. But he seized the change in perspective as an opportunity - to catch her earlobe between his teeth. "Damian, what if someone catches us?"

"Screw them... I need you." Damian murmured into her ear, clasping their palms together. "I wanted to do this right, but... I'm not used to you being so far from me." She hardly needed the reminder. The separate rooms. There was no cuddling, no spooning. No candles and late night kisses that turned into - this. "I'm suffering..."

So was she.

That was hardly fair.

Raven turned her face. "I'm a guest in this house. I'm your guest..." She angled her hip away from his, but he wrapped his fingers around it insistently. "It wouldn't exactly bode well for me if we hooked up here. Or now." Her argument dissolved away, diluted with his hands diving into divots and dips.

He grasped her chin. "Just one more kiss." Every letter pronounced like a purr brushing her mouth with their hot strokes. "I need another... That one wasn't long enough..."

"I can't - I shouldn't." Raven tried. Her hands were braced on his hard chest. The tautness of his muscles hardly helped. Every ab line and pec was heightened and heavy and wrought with tension under her touch. And it was all for her. But she couldn't. "It's your family, Damian... I want them to like me or at least tolerate me..."

She heard low grunts of frustration echo up his throat. "Raven, relax. Everything is fine... In fact, they could stand to like you less if you ask me," he said under his breath. "What does it really matter if we're caught?"

Raven felt herself recoil from him. No matter how much she didn't want to. "No, Damian. We can't." She turned her cheek. Pulling away and wiping her mouth. "And you can't just...kiss away the distance between us the last few days."

There was a tonal shift in the atmosphere. And his body went completely rigid and his expression went grave.

"Raven, what are you talking about?" Damian asked her, but he avoided her eyes for a second too long. It had to be true. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He flashed in palms in a wide armed surrender. "Look this weekend... It's not...what you think..."

"The separate rooms..." She said slowly. He wasn't looking at her. Raven's heart plummeted down to the soles of her feet. They weren't in lock-step. Things really had veered off course if they weren't in sync. "You do know what I think. You have for a while." Raven shook her head and turned on her heel.

This time, Damian didn't follow.

-----------

In the back of the Waynes's private beach, Raven sat alone facing the tides, her petite body elongated along the rail of the gazebo. She watched the waters wash away the sand, over and over, lapping at the shore.

Everything began to flow out of her.

There was a whole world Damian shared with his family that he had never shown her. She felt like she was getting to know him all over again. Normally she would have leapt at the chance to get to know her boyfriend even better.

But this was different.

What if the people who raised Damian decided they didn't like who he had become when he was with her?

Damian approached the small silhouette of a girl, her body overlaid on the rail of the gazebo, the connected arches carved in wood. He watched the way the wind whipped through her hair as she stared off into the sunset with the thick slip-covered book laying on her lap.

It was a framed photograph.

"You must be freezing." Raven turned to him when she felt a thick blanket drape across her shoulders. But, he sounded a bit worried and his brow creased with concern. "You missed dinner... When you weren't in your room. I thought... Part of me was afraid you..."

He stared at his feet in the sand. "You thought I left?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw him close his eyes, squeezing them shut. "I couldn't do that..." She tucked the blanket around herself. Suddenly Damian leapt up and grabbed her tight, holding her quietly. For several long moments, she felt the truth in each frantic pound of his heart. When it slowed at last, Damian exhaled and released her. Breathing heavily. "I missed a lot more than dinner... Didn't I?" Raven gave him a sad, knowing smile.

"What are you talking about?" Damian started. He stared oddly at her amethyst eyes. "Did someone say something to you? Was it Stephanie? Or Jason? Because I swear -"

"No - no." She said softly. Damian watched her, as the wind wildly swept strands of her black about her face. "I missed things... Like having a real family."

They were a part of him. They were a part of who he was before he met her. She knew she was the odd woman out, but being around them was nice.

Really nice.

"Oh..." Damian stared off at the water pensively. "No - if anything you lucked out..." He ran a hand through his hair. "They go overboard and they talk too much... They're annoying. They push your buttons and borrow your imported silk tie without asking -"

"You know that doesn't make them any less great..." Raven sighed. "In the back of my mind, I knew if I ever met them, they would be wonderful. They would have to be if they were your family. But... really they are..." Raven stared off at the fading red sphere on the waters, like a bright beacon. A guide... Or a warning. "And I'm not."

"What?" Damian spat harshly. Almost accusingly. "Raven, why would you say that?"

"Because... this is the Hamptons and this is your family..." She said quickly. "You're already notorious in Gotham, here you're practically royalty..." Raven fumbled. "I'm just an outsider."

It was hardly the Hamptons she cared about. Raven felt like the waters should rise up and take her away.

"No, that can't be it..." He shook his head. "You never cared about those things before." Damian's face bordered on anger. "What changed?"

Raven bit her lip, trying to contain it as she made sense of it in her own mind. "I met the most important people in your life and they're perfect." Raven confessed. "But your family probably wants you to date someone who's equally perfect. Someone who belongs with you..."

It would be far worse to lose Damian if they decided they didn't approve or didn't want her.

"You belong with me." Damian spoke as though she was delirious. He edged closer to her. "Everyone in my family has felt like an outsider at one point or another. Hell, we're not even all related. Most of us are adopted or step-somethings."

"You guys certainly fit together like you're related." Raven hadn't meant to sound accusing, but she couldn't help it. He had to realize that only served to make the family even more perfect - not less.

Just like Damian.

The pale girl shifted and dangled her legs off over the side of the gazebo as she faced him.

Those dazzlingly vert orbs were staring into hers, searching. "Are you regretting meeting my family?" He asked softly.

"No." Raven's pale feet kicked at the sand swept air absentmindedly, feeling childish as she did so. "I just wanted everything to go perfectly..." Then, even more so as she spoke the words aloud. "I wanted to make the best impression possible - I wasn't prepared and I didn't pack enough outfits or separates..." She dragged a hand down her face. "I didn't even know separates were their own clothing category until two days ago."

Damian fixed her a disbelieving stare. "Separates...?"

"I'll never fit in at a yacht club, I don't tan, and this is the one white dress I packed... " She gestured down to the loose linen mini dress. She was losing her nerve or her grip - she didn't know what, but she was losing it. "I hardly have enough white to make it through the rest of the trip -"

Her words died in her throat the second he placed those comforting hands onto her thighs. Holding her steady and supporting her with ease. "That's too bad." Raven froze and he smirked. "I'm sorry, but you have to stay for the whole weekend, my family already loves you... It's too late for you."

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could finally bring herself to speak. "I made a horrible first impression..." Raven's lips parted. "And I was much too quiet... There's no way - they could...?" She couldn't bear to finish her words.

"I do... So why wouldn't they?" And Damian braced himself on the wood railing on either side of her hips and placed a long kiss to her forehead, trailing down to each of her cheeks and Raven promptly muffled her face into his chest.

She gasped. "Game night," Raven realized, wiping an escaped tear quickly. "Is it...too late for game night? Did I miss it?"

Damian traced her cheek with his fingers. "No, everyone waited for you. It's not a proper game night without you. You're one of us now." Damian smiled. For one long moment, his handsome face lit up, painted with vibrant reds, pinks, yellows, like the sunset. He looked ridiculously, genuinely happy in ways Raven had never seen before. And he captured her lips softly. Solidifying that fact. Driving it home over and over with his warm mouth caressing hers. She was one of them, she belonged.

"Okay... What about -" He kissed her again and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Don't worry. We'll get you more white -" Raven's entire being rose up with the tides at what he said next. "A dress..." It sounded like a promise of so much more. "The perfect white dress."

And true to Damian's words, Raven looked stunning in white.

Damian clasped her hand, stretching out their interlaced fingers between them, until only their pinkies remained linked before the colors of the sunset. And they walked with their bare feet kicking up the sand on the wind by the glistening water of the beach. Until they finally made their way to the back of the house where his family stood waiting.

They were silent - no chattering or arguing, but waiting patiently, tensely, or even eagerly.

With his other hand, Damian reached into his trouser pocket and dragged a finger once more over the black velvet box before squeezing it tight.

Yes.

He had known for a while.

That Raven belonged at his side, with his family all around them, wearing a white dress.

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amoretheiwa · 3 years

Text

Closet Conversation

Tim and Kon have had a thing going for a little while now--a friends-with-benefits kind of things. But Tim isn't sure he can't keep up the pretense of only friendly feelings towards Kon. So things start to come out... That's basically it.

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr below the cut

Tim found himself hating Kon just a little bit when the Kryptonian finally pulled completely away and didn’t seem even nearly as out of breath as he was. Sweat made Tim’s face damp and he willed his arm not to swipe at his forehead, chest still heaving.

Kon grinned at him—teeth blindingly white and lips still swollen—as he began to reach for his costume pieces.

“I think I have a new favorite room here,” he said with a wink.

Tim pushed down the emotions—and arousal—that evoked and rolled his eyes.

“If every place we did anything like this in ended up as your favorite room, half the Tower would be your favorite.”

Kon raised and wagged his eyebrows.

“Exactly.”

Tim scoffed and turned around, searching for the discarded pieces of his uniform. In the midst of their little…tryst, the oddest things ended up in the oddest places. His boots were in opposite corners and his cape was stuck over the door handle.

“One of these days someone is going to need something in one of these closets and they’re going to find way more than they expected.”

Kon snorted.

“So what? Good for them.”

Tim tensed for a split second before going back to getting dressed. Their friends with benefits arrangement was mutually beneficial. Kon got out his insane amounts of pent-up sexual tension, Tim got stress relief and the added bonus of close proximity to his current crush/best friend. If he could even still call it a crush after the past few years.

Maybe it was the Bat-training, maybe it was his attempt at keeping feelings out of the whole thing, whatever the reason, Tim was finished getting dressed even as Kon was still looking for his top. Tim allowed himself to watch as his friend floated up to the top of a cabinet. His butt looked good at this angle. Tim felt his cheeks flush and turned around, crossing his arms. Robin tradition or not, he mused bitterly on the stories he had heard from Dick, messing around in random rooms in Titans Tower does not seem smart or safe.

“That was dumb,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes.

“What was?” Came Kon’s voice most definitely too loud and too close.

Tim whirled and glared at his…friend.

“This,” he gestured at them both, at the room. “This whole thing was and every time we have done it and probably every time we will do it. It’s a dumb thing with dumb perks.”

Kon furrowed his brows, blue eyes glinting.

“What’s dumb about it?”

Tim scoffed.

“Everything. It’s firstly unsanitary,” Kon outright laughed. Tim pursed his lips. “Secondly, it could end causing problems between teammates.”

Kon tilted his head.

“How so? Unless you don’t like my skills,” here the half-Kryptonian wiggled his hips, “I don’t see any reason to stop.”

Tim felt his heart jump and his blood roil. Ignoring the fact that Kon could hear all the ways his body was betraying him if he was even bothering to pay attention, Tim continued. He turned around again, crossing his arms.

“Say you and Cassie get back together, or you meet someone else. It just would be problematic!”

Kon shrugged and pulled his shirt on. He went to tuck it in as Tim spoke again.

“That was dumb.”

“I know. I heard you the first three times.”

“Crazy dumb. Crazy, stupid sticking fingers into light sockets kind of dumb.”

Tim glared at the wall, not saying anything else. Before he knew what was happening, Kon was pinning him against the wall just as he had been before, only this time both his hands were above his head and Kon wasn’t touching him anywhere else.

“What’s so dumb about this, Tim?” He asked in a low, sultry voice. It wasn’t exactly the same as his sex voice, a little more serious and less out-of-breath, but still far from his hero's voice.

“Is there something that bothers you about this Tim, or is it something about me?”

Tim swallowed, his throat suddenly extremely dry. Even though they had just spent quite a bit of time in there, certain parts of his body were telling him they were more than willing and ready to go another round, maybe even two, with Kon.

“This isn’t a personal commentary on either of us, Superboy.”

Kon leaned in closer to Tim but still didn’t touch him anywhere else. The familiar tingling of his TTK wound its way up from his ankles to rest low on his hips, pushing him further into the wall. He attempted to swallow again.

“Isn’t it though? You don’t have any problems with Bart and Jaime, or Steph and Cass.”

Tim tensed and a good portion of his arousal went away.

“Because they’re all in a public, committed relationship. Any of the potential fall-outs are at least partially anticipated.”

Kon pulled back some.

“Really, Tim? You’re going to go full-on Bats on me like this?”

Tim resented the fact that even Kon called him out on his more Bruce-like qualities—it wasn’t like Jason and Dick weren’t enough. He grit his teeth and tried to pull his wrists free from Kon’s hands. The clone didn’t fight him but didn’t let him just slip away, either.

“This has nothing to do with being a Bat, and even if it did that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

Kon floated back some, giving Tim some more space without really freeing him.

“No, you’re right,” Kon put a hand through his hair, “this has nothing to with being a Bat. This has everything to do with you and your repressed emotions. It might make you fit in with the rest of your crime-fighting clan but you didn’t inherit it from them.”

Tim contemplated slapping Kon right then and there. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that being the one to initiate physical contact would mean Kon had won in some sick twisted way.

“I’m no detective but I think there’s something else that makes you see this as dumb,” Kon said softly, almost gently.

Tim flinched and closed his eyes. He was by far not prepared for this change in tone. Fighting, he could do—it’s all he and Kon had ever done before they became friends. But emotions, pity? Hell no.

The silence in the closet was deafening, and if his heartbeat was even half as loud to Kon as it was to him he knew there was no point in hiding. They stood there for what felt like hours before he opened his eyes. Behind his mask, he felt a sense of anonymity rarely afforded to Timothy Drake-Wayne. But in front of Kon? Kon-el, Conner Kent, the clone of Superman himself and containing Lex Luthor’s DNA, was not stupid. Even if he liked to be underestimated as such. He knew it was a lost cause that he was going to have to either come up with a really good lie (even by his standards) or tell the truth, as heart-wrenching as it would end up being.

Tim was just about to open his mouth and say—he didn’t know what, but something—when their communicators went off.

“All Titans, come in. We’re needed ASAP!”

Kon pulled all the way back this time and sighed.

“We’ll finish this conversation later.”

Tim didn’t follow Kon out immediately, instead letting his head fall back against the wall.

If I have any say in the matter we won’t.

Tim had almost forgotten about the uncomfortable conversation that happened after his and Kon’s most recent…meeting. Almost. And God did he hate that he couldn’t bring himself to just calling it what it was—sex, unattached and as platonic as it can get sex. Fucking, banging if he wanted to be crude, but it wasn’t much more. No making love for Tim Drake. No, he is much too busy and sleep deprived as it is, let alone emotionally repressed as others had so kindly put it.

He would have completely forgotten about the fact that his best friend (are they even still best friends at this point? What were they supposed to be?) still wanted to talk if it wasn’t for said friend. Tim had hit the showers—finally—after their quick mission. A gangbanger that had gotten too big for his britches decided to dabble in Venom and wrecked a few city blocks by the time they were able to stop him.

While he pulled on some civvies, Tim winced. It was far from the worst battle he had ever been in (hello Ra’s al Ghul, Damian) but bruised ribs were bruised ribs. A knock on his door had him tensing. His schedule did not allow him to spend much more time at Titans Tower. After all, he had business back in Gotham of both the suit-and-tie kind and the crime-fighting kind.

“Come in,” he called out. Whichever Titan it was hopefully wouldn’t take up too much of his time.

He heard his door open but knew immediately it wasn’t Bart or Cassie; both of them would have instantly been chattering about something or other. Tim knew in his gut it was Kon before he turned around.

“Do you need something?” He asked, voice cold in a manner he didn’t frequently use on friends and family, just barely keeping himself from crossing his arms.

Kon made sure the door was shut before walking over to Tim’s desk and sitting in his seat. The clone leaned back a tad, just enough that his t-shirt rode up his jeans some. Tim was suddenly very grateful for Kon’s fashion taste and the fact the high-waisted jeans covered skin that otherwise would have been visible and very distracting.

“Yeah, I do, but not right now. This is more of a…a prelude to talking about what you and I need.”

Tim made the split-second decision to not sit down but did finally give in and cross his arms.

“Fine. I don’t have much time so spit it out.”

He hoped that the minute shaking he could feel wasn’t noticeable, but who was Tim kidding? Even with half of Superman’s genes, this was still a superpowered Kryptonian. He leaned against his dresser, the distance exactly enough to not be awkwardly far away but not so close as to make the conversation too intimate, too personal.

Kon eyed Tim. It wasn’t a sensual checking out or aggressive sizing up, just a drawn out and unsubtle observation. Tim began to fidget, a tell and a nervous habit Dick and Bruce had yet to fully train out of him.

“Well?” He finally prompted, undeniably impatient.

Kon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped together.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you brought up earlier, man, and I want you to know that I wasn’t just being a jerk for no reason.”

Tim snorted.

“Like you’ve ever needed a reason to be a jerk.” Kon snapped his head up and glared at Tim.

Tim raised his hands in surrender, genuinely regretting the words.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Continue.”

Kon pursed his lips for a beat before doing just that.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I still stand by what I said earlier even if some of the…personal digs weren’t relevant. It’s a Bats thing to stay emotionally unattached and I’m not like that. I hate it, I actually really hate it. So even though we’ve got this friends-with-benefits thing going on you’re still one of my closest friends. Besides,” he leaned back again, grinning now, a glint in his eyes and the beginnings of a smirk around his mouth, “it’s not liked we don’t keep each other happy.”

Tim swallowed. His heart was racing but he also felt kind of faint. Instinctively the oblivious side of him wondered if he had maybe been poisoned but he knew instantly that that wasn’t the case.

“So you’re saying that you want to keep this up, nothing changing, even though I think it’s dumb?”

Kon groaned and closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know man. Ideally, there’d be more than just amazing sex in random rooms but since that’s all you’re gonna give that’s all I’m gonna take.”

“Fine b—wait, wait what?” Tim’s voice squeaked in a way it hadn’t in a few years. Kon’s eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Do you like me?”

Kon looked miffed at having been interrupted but shrugged.

“Yeah, man, I guess. We are friends after all.” Tim stood up and shook his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand. Do you like like-like me? Like, physically and emotionally attracted to me? As in don’t want to just fuck?”

Kon rolled his eyes.

“Well duh. Why do you think I broke it off with Cassie? I straight up seduced you dude, I just realized pretty quickly you weren’t into me on the same level. It’s cool though.”

“Why did you think I’m not into you? I thought it was obvious and you were just humoring me while getting all the benefits.”

Kon raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak but froze. He dropped his head back and started laughing.

“What’s so funny about this?” Tim said, speaking louder so that he could be heard over Kon’s laughter. Emotions were racing through him like a heard of horses but the most prominent one had rapidly become confusion.

“It’s, it’s just that this whole time I, I tho-thought,” Kon wheezed, “thought that you. I don’t know, I just didn’t think you were interested that way.”

Tim felt his jaw metaphorically drop.

“Are you kidding me? We could have been dating this whole time?”

Tim ran his fingers through his hair and gripped it, pacing. Kon stood up and smiled. He walked up to Tim who had begun muttering at light speed, and gently stopped him, holding his shoulders.

“Tim, hey, Rob,” he said softly.

Tim looked up at him and sighed. He bit his bottom lip, and Kon’s eyes flashed down toward his lips.

“Let’s let go of this whole mess and just start over, okay?”

Tim nodded vigorously. Kon grinned and leaned in, kissing him softly. When he pulled back, Tim seemed to be a little in shock.

“So, Robin, Tim Drake-Wayne, would you like to go on a date with me tonight?”

Tim pulled back a little and stared Kon down.

“As much as I want to say yes, I’m way too busy tonight. How about tomorrow? I can make time for a few hours if you can.”

Kon grinned and kissed Tim again, lingering this time.

“I can always make time for you, babe.”

“Babe?”

“Well, yeah, if we’re boyfriends then I reserve the right to call you babe.”

Tim couldn’t deny that he wasn’t getting flustered and flustered quickly.

“Alright, Kon,” Tim grinned, “it’s a date.”

#timkon #tim drake #conner kent #amoretheiwa writes #closet conversation

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 10)

A/n: What, thought I was done with this series. HA NO!! I still have a playlist for this shit and it fuels me. Just, slowly.

Word Count: 5000+

PLAYLIST

Masterlist

"Parents will never admit to this, but they always have a favorite." Jerome looked at Jeremiah as he lounged on his chair. "Right, brother?" Harley felt eyes on him so he looked over, only to look directly in Bruce's eyes. There was something there that spoke to Harley what both boys knew- this wasn't about Bruce. The younger boy seemed to be trying to reason or apologize without words, but Harley just looked away. It was far too late for that bullshit. "The one who cleans their room. Does their homework." Every word was a twist of a knife Harley didn't realize was buried in his chest. He was maybe the one who understood Jerome the most. Maybe that's why they'd gotten this far with each other. "Who doesn't try to kill everybody." Harley smiled. "Little Mr. Perfect here? Yeah. He was that guy. He was adopted by rich folks. Went to the top schools, then a top college." Harley suddenly felt angry. Angry at Jerome's family. At everyone in Jerome's past, in fact. Especially at Jeremiah Valeska. And you know what... at Bruce Wayne too. "Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed, alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day."

"Who cares?" Someone in the crowd shouted. People began to speak up in agreement.

Harley stepped forward. "Don't interrupt the man!" He hefted his bat and the crowd suddenly went silent.

Jerome looked pleased, but his smile died quickly as he returned to his little rant. Harley moved behind him, running his free hand through Jerome's hair every once in a while. "Do you know how big those things are?" He was completely calm, but in a sort of empty way as his eyes searched out people in the crowd. Harley recognized the plea. For understanding. For pity. For anything. Someone to get him and not judge him and tell him that he was right to be doing what he was doing. Everyone's disapproval didn't stop him, but he yearned for someone to love him and it was so very clear to Harley now more than ever that it upset him. Why were people always so cruel? "But I know something mommy and daddy," Jerome continued. "They never knew. You’re as crazy as I am." Jerome dropped the mic, standing. "It's in your DNA." He turned to Jeremiah, Harley right next to him, still brandishing his bat as he watched Jerome's back. "See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer." He had a knife and he moved close to Jeremiah, obviously trying to put him on edge. "It's in your nature. Stop trying to fight it." He cut Jeremiah's ties and there was a pause. "Take your best shot."

"What?" Harley demanded, turning around. He found his body stiff with panic. Hard to move and respond with. Jeremiah was holding the knife Jerome had been a few seconds before. He went to step forward to stop this, but Jerome held up a hand. Harley looked at Jerome with rage. "Jerome-" Jerome shushed him.

Perhaps the man still could take Harley by surprise.

Jeremiah looked at his brother, his features slowly twisting with more and more anger until he screamed, trying to tackle Jerome to the ground but failing. Jerome giggled as he kicked Jeremiah and Harley frowned. He stepped away, irritated that Jerome hadn't at least cued him in on this part of the plan. At least given him a head's up or something... As he looked away, he noticed Bruce. This time the boy was looking at Jeremiah, his face twisted in pain and anger. Harley rose an eyebrow. He'd seen Bruce be pissed by injustice before, but there wasn't just his sense of right or wrong driving him to these emotions. There was a sort of protectiveness in the way his hands curled into fists. He'd only seen it when someone had gotten a little too rough with Y/n back in the days, or when Selina had been in danger those few times Harley had seen Bruce get protective of her.

What were the odds that Harley wasn't the only Wayne that had a crush of some kind on a Valeska?

From the way he struggled against his ropes, Harley was starting to think they were getting more probable by the second.

Everything was cut short as gun fire went off on the rooftops, diverting Jerome's attention just long enough to be shot in the shoulder by Jim Gordon. Bruce escaped, Jerome's trigger didn't work, and everyone was scattering as a giant blimp began to inch across the sky. Harley moved to Jerome, slinging Jerome's arm around his shoulders. Jerome pulled away though. "What's up?" Harley demanded, desperate to escape in the chaos.

Jerome groaned. "I have an idea. But we need to go up." Harley hesitated but then nodded, both of the men running to a nearby building and up the flight of stairs to the roof. Harley hid just out of sight when Jerome told him to. Jim busted onto the scene moments later and Harley ducked out of sight, moving so he could still see even if he couldn't quite hear. Words, at least. The gun shots he heard clearly. One to Jerome's hand, knocking the phone away. Another to his stomach, and Jerome was falling. Back. Off the ledge and over.

Harley almost threw up. He was stunned, eyes wide as he watched Gordon scramble forward. He only got comfort when he heard talking over the side and saw Jim reach down a hand... Harley rushed forward, hitting the back of Jim's head with the bat he still had. The officer crumbled.

"Gordon?"

Harley leaned over the side to see Jerome barely dangling by a pole. "You idiot." Only now did Harley realize he was crying. He reached down but Jerome just frowned, not taking it. Something then dawned on Harley and the boy paled. "You weren't going to take his hand either, were you?"

Jerome grunted, rolling his eyes. "This is the end of the line for me, Harley."

"No the fuck it isn't," Harley snapped back. "You promised me we'd talk about us later." He shook his hand, offering it again. "You've been driven by hate and loneliness and spite your entire life. You didn't think past that night you killed your mom, did you?” Something changed in Jerome’s face, but Harley was too angry to stop. “You barely tried to hide it, and you made minimal effort to get away with it. Then after, you stayed in Gotham to, what? Destroy your brother?" Harley scoffed. "I'm tired of this Jerome. Damnit, I'm tired of watching people suffer." He sniffed and Jerome's face seemed to relax as he actually listened. "We can kill whoever you want, I don't care. But my brother and your brother have a crush on each other and it's hilarious and I need you here to laugh with me about it, okay?" He choked up. "I need you to rule this stupid town with me. Or to not to. Maybe we could stay lowkey or leave. Maybe we could hide out somewhere and just go missing or fake our deaths and never show our faces again so no one knows we're around to even find us. Maybe..." He shrugged. "You can take me to whatever hell you want to Jerome. Let's blow more things up and kiss over dead bodies. You don't have to ruin your brother just because he ruined you. Or maybe you do. Whatever. Just come back with me, okay? Please." Harley stretched out his hand more and Jerome got a new look on his face.

He took Harley's hand, and Harley hauled him up, struggling only minority. The second he was standing, Harley grabbed his face and kissed him. Jerome hooked his good arm around Harley's waist, keeping them close. "You love me."

Harley held tightly to Jerome, closing his eyes as he tried to let go of the mental image his brain was trying to create of Jerome being flattened on the street below. "More than I even love myself," Harley confirmed. "It's probably why I've stuck around, really."

Jerome hummed. "Our brothers have a thing for each other, huh?"

Harley laughed. He leaned back and Jerome reached up, wiping the tears away. "Maybe we could just let them be." Harley shrugged again, struggling to come up with the words to explain how he was feeling. "If they really do like each other..."

"My brother is as messed up as I am," Jerome warned. "I'm at least fun- he's just manipulative."

Harley nodded. "Then what better way to break them than have them break each other, hm?" Harley nudged him. "And if he does end up being total shit, then we can turn him crazy just like you want to with that gas of yours." Harley sighed. "Just, I don't know, my brother deserves to be happy. He's lost his parents and now his brother and his whole world is on its head and-" he stopped cold, sucking in a sharp breath. "It's his birthday today." The day occurred to him suddenly and he looked up at Jerome, pleading. "Would it be too much to ask for?"

Jerome pursed his lips. "When he hurts him-"

"You can kill him, and I'll help you."

A smile finally grew on Jerome's lips. He knew this was a win-win. Either he was wrong about his brother and they all got somewhat of a happy ending, or he was going to see some actual fun. Either way, it was going to be entertaining. "Fine." He sighed. "We have to get to his little base quick then, though." His smile grew and Harley felt himself get excited.

"Hey Handsome."

Jeremiah jumped at the sound of Harley's voice. He went tense, looking around for his brother who usually accompanied the boy in front of him. No sign. "What are you doing here?"

Harley shrugged. He was pretty amicable so Jeremiah calmed even if he didn't totally relax. "I killed Jerome."

That seemed to take Jeremiah by surprise. Understandable. He wanted to doubt Harley, but the boy's expression was open and honest. Even vulnerable, like he was apologizing. "Why?" He asked instead of voicing doubts that were slipping away. Harley was wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans now, different from the little fancy get up he'd been wearing while with Jerome. There was something different about the boy in front of him as well. Something distinctively different than the Harley that had flirted with him a foot away from Jeremiah's brother, who was presumably also Harley's boyfriend.

"He tried to kill Bruce." Harley sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. "We had an agreement that Bruce was untouchable. If he died accidentally because he was being an idiot, fine. But Jerome sought him out specifically. And on his birthday." Harley clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. "Bruce can hate me. He has every right to. But he's still my younger brother." He looked away. "He means everything to me, you know. We used to be best friends." He smiled softly but then looked back at Jeremiah, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I'm sure you're not wanting to hear that after I've told you your own brother is dead."

"No,"Jeremiah reassured. "It's actually quite a relief." Harley nodded as if he understood. "Wait but why did you come here? Just to...tell me that?" Harley held up a purple package with a huge silver ribbon. Only then did Jeremiah realize the boy had been holding it at all. "And what's that?"

"Jerome came up with a gas. Had Scarecrow make it himself. Kind of like fear gas, but it makes you..." Harley tilted his head back and forth as he searched for the word. "More like Jerome, to put it nicely. Unhinged." Jeremiah stepped back from the box, curling into himself. "I didn't want his plan to succeed, so I'm here to step in."

Jeremiah looked at Harley, confused again. "Why would you care what happened to me?"

A smile rose to Harley's face, soft and rather attractive. Jeremiah had already come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Harley Quinn. He was also attracted to Bruce Wayne, so maybe it was just that the Wayne bloodline produced very good looking men. Whatever it was, Harley seemed much more welcoming and friendly now compared to his flirting the last time they'd had an extended conversation. One where Harley had stood up for Jerome and seemed to hate Jeremiah. One that had left an impression to someone who was quite opposite of the man standing in front of Jeremiah now. "I see the way my brother looks at you."

Jeremiah felt his heart pick up. "You- what?"

Harley giggled. "I don't think even he knows yet, but he does have some feeling toward you. I figure he's lost enough people. Had far too many opportunities for something he deserved pass him by. He's sacrificed enough." Harley stepped forward, closer to Jeremiah. "I guess I want to get you guys together. Maybe one relationship between a Valeska and Wayne can actually work out." Harley's smile was strained here and Jeremiah felt pity for the boy. "So what do you say? You couldn't tell him I was around, of course, but I'm sure you'd do a lot better with a bit of help."

Excitement rose up in Jeremiah's features. "You can stay here if you want. I have a free room I could make into somewhere you can sleep."

Harley grinned. "How sweet. I actually would appreciate that, if you don't mind." He stepped away. "I have to dispose of this, but... you know, I think we're gonna be good friends." He nodded in a silent farewell and Jeremiah smiled in return. Harley found his way out himself. Jeremiah didn't think anything of it as he was far too excited thinking about the possibility that Bruce Wayne could return his feelings on any level, as well as the possibility of having a real guy friend his age. Ecco was cool, but branching out a bit wouldn't hurt.

It took five minutes for Harley to find his way out. He skipped to the waiting car then got in the driver's seat, starting it up and taking off. Jerome grinned from the passenger seat. "How is it that you got around without that little blonde girl following you?"

Harley scoffed cockily. "If you and him think the same, then I can just as easily figure out that maze of his as you can. The same way I assume Ecco has it down as well. She knows Jeremiah like the back of her hand. The same way that I know you." He shot a wink at Jerome who smirked, leaning back in his seat.

"So you're my little secret weapon, eh?"

Harley giggled as he pulled to a stop at the building they'd been hiding out in since escaping Arkham. "Something like that."

Jerome leaned over, catching Harley's chin in his fingers, and then Harley's lips with his own. The kiss was slow and deep and purposeful, and it made all of Harley's insides light on fire. "You know, I love you too." Harley's head was spinning and he couldn't wrap his mind around that kiss let alone the words that had followed it. Jerome had never kissed him like that.

"What a joker," Harley croaked. It had become a bit of a running gag to call Jerome that. "Cute but totally rude."

Jerome's hold on Harley's face tightened. He looked angry. Maybe Harley had offended him. But how could he have? “You know Harley, I show you every time I've been genuine. You've seen me afraid. You've seen me sad. You've seen me confused. You've seen me have many other emotions beside just amusement and anger which is what most people see. You've seen me about to jump off a building and end it all for god's sake." Harley swallowed, trying not to let that exact instance come back to him as a memory in his already muddled state. "Do I look like I'm joking to you?"

Harley wet his lips. "Why me?"

Jerome smiled, giggling softly. "Because you're just like me, and you accept that. You thrive off of it. I don't have to bend and twist to get it out- you wear your crazy like a badge. You walk through fire to be with me just because I've asked you to. Because you love me, and I like it, even though I’ve despised the thought of love... until now. You're probably the only person in my life who's ever loved me." His hold loosened in favor of caressing Harley's face. "You were right, you know." He snorted, as if amused by the sentence. He must not have said it a lot. "You can't just belong to me. And you don't. I belong to you too. I really would do anything for you." Smiling, Harley leaned forward and kissed him again.

There was a certain excitement in the moment. Jerome loved him.

There was also a sense of dread. A sense of being locked up, in a sense. Jerome had never been loved before. Had never loved anyone more than he loved himself before. He wouldn't handle it well if Harley was hurt or left him. Harley couldn't imagine wanting to leave Jerome after everything they've been through, but normal relationships always had the recognition that it might happen, right? You dreaded that moment and hoped it never happened... By the look in Jerome's eyes, Harley knew that wasn't a possibility. They were stuck together forever now. It was Jerome's Harley and Harley's little Joker. Forever.

Or, at least, until death do them part.

"Hey Lovebird," Harley greeted brightly one morning.

Jeremiah scoffed, but he was smiling so Harley knew no harm had been done. "Good morning Harley."

Harley waved at Ecco who nodded at him in return, a small smile on her face. "Any plans today?" Harley asked, setting himself down next to Jeremiah.

A little coy curve of his lips was answer enough, but Jeremiah explained anyway. "Bruce is coming over today to see the new prototypes." Here he got excited, going into full nerd mode. Harley and Jeremiah had begun to get close. It was kind of wild to see a sane version of Jerome. Boring though. Harley could never bring himself to spend too much time with Jeremiah before he needed to visit his boyfriend again.

His boyfriend. Jerome had finally made it official and had picked up the pet names again. Harley was weak over it. He didn't think he'd ever have a boyfriend, let alone one who was so unapologetically proud of being with him. Someone who really loved him and encouraged him to be himself. It was exhilarating.

Ecco brushed her fingers along the back of Harley's head. The boy knocked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Jeremiah looking expectantly. "Oh sorry." Harley blushed, embarrassed. "What did you say?"

Jeremiah shook his head, but he still had that amused smirk on his face. A teasing expression. Lighthearted. "I was saying that I was thinking about maybe asking him on a date after. If... if you think it's not too early to do that? Or if he won't totally shoot me down?" He got nervous.

It seemed that Jeremiah had gotten into the habit of ignoring little odd things Harley did. He still hadn't asked how Harley so easily found his way through the maze, nor did he question little moments like just now. What could Harley be so happy about? Maybe he wrote it all down to Harley's time with Jerome and his excitement for the possibility of his brother being happy or something. I think Jeremiah was basking in the feeling of watching two brothers really care about each other- something he never experienced but undoubtedly had wanted in some way or another. Harley was curious but couldn't ask, himself. All the odd things he was doing didn't need to be brought to light in favor of exposing the little odd things Jeremiah was doing. And Ecco seemed to trust Harley enough, as long as he made no move to hurt Jeremiah in any way. So for now, it was fine. I guess.

"I don't really know," Harley relented. "The only relationship I've ever been in wasn't exactly... normal."

Jeremiah suddenly got very serious. "Of course, sorry."

"No worries," Harley dismissed. "I just mean I would probably be a bad gauge of timing. I think you should go for it though. Maybe try to be subtle, but definitely drop some hints and give it a try." He smiled and Jeremiah mirrored the expression, relaxing as he daydreamed just a little bit about things that might happen if this whole thing went well. "Until then," Harley continued, flicking Jeremiah's shoulder to get his attention back. Jeremiah blushed, making Ecco smirk and roll her eyes. "Let's make some dinner. Nothing will get him to stay like some good food, and knowing him, he'll probably have skipped a meal again while still unsure if Jerome is alive or not." Harley looked at his hands.

Jeremiah swallowed. "Yeah, makes sense." He moved to Harley, nudging Harley's shoulder with his own. "Come and help me?" He was trying to be a good friend and keep Harley distracted from sad thoughts. Little did he know that Harley was simply annoyed. He just wanted to be happy with his boyfriend without his brother trying to find them both and throw them back in that hell hole Arkham.

"Fore sure," Harley responded anyway, forcing a smile. "We better hurry. Waynes have high standards for food."

Harley chilled in the room with all the monitors as Jeremiah showed off his prototype to Bruce. Jeremiah had moved the operation to the room to allow Harley to listen in and gauge Bruce's reaction to things. Harley couldn't help without coming out and revealing himself, but Ecco went back and forth so if Jeremiah really needed a hand he could give advice through her. Harley and Ecco together were really good at coming up with solutions and dealing with romance. They seemed to be able to find a whole braincell between them, and it worked well. It was quite impressive actually.

Bruce seemed super interested in Jeremiah's little project, but every once in a while those eyes full of light and excitement would turn from the energy thingy - Jeremiah had explained it maybe hundreds of times to Harley, but he still didn't exactly get how it worked - to Jeremiah, and his eyes would get even brighter; his smile even wider. Harley got it, honestly. Jeremiah was shy and soft spoken for the most part but get him talking about his idea for this cleaner power source and he came alive in a way that made him all levels of adorable. He used his hands to talk when he was excited, and kept looking between the project he was explaining and the boy he was explaining it to. Every time the boys' eyes met, both of them got a little pinker and it made Harley giggle.

"They're such nerds," Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"They're idiots," Ecco agreed. "Which is crazy considering they're both seen as geniuses in Gotham. Especially Jeremiah." They both laughed softly before Ecco headed out again, leaving Harley alone.

Watching them took quite a while, and as time passed Harley found himself getting more sad. He wished that he could do things like that with Jerome. Flirt and geek out together and share little looks and innocent moments. Go on dates and hold hands and share long looks and dusty pink blushes. Harley wondered if Jerome had ever looked at him like that. No, such a soft look didn’t belong on Jerome’s face.

Eventually it ended and outside the compound, Jeremiah asked Bruce on a date. Obviously the boy said yes. Inside, the trio of friends celebrated as Bruce went home that night. And after they’d cheered and congratulated, Harley told Jeremiah that he needed some air and headed out.

This was another odd thing that Jeremiah was choosing to ignore. Sometimes Harley stayed the night and sometimes he didn’t. No one questioned it.

Harley headed to the hideout where Jerome was waiting for him. He was busy though, seeming distracted by a small book and lots of drawings. Harley planted himself on the couch to give Jerome some space. Whether he was planning or just musing, Jerome likes his space when doing it. Harley was willing to wait and give it to him.

In the quiet, Harley’s mind wandered back to his thoughts from earlier. He imagined just for a second, a world where Jerome’s smiles were soft. Where his smiles were warm. Where his eyes were wide and his words were honest and soothing. Where his touch was gentle. Where they were together and they cuddled in the park during lunchtime and had a picnic as Jerome rubbed his back and they both lay in peace and quiet. He imagined kisses that brushed rather than bruised. It was a sweet thought. A fantasy he’d loved as a child.

Did he still like it? Could he imagine himself in a life where he got a job and wore a suit or even a tshirt and jeans like he had been for Jeremiah? Like he had when he wasn’t Harley Quinn? Honestly, he couldn’t.

A frown took his face. He had nothing to distract him and icky feelings began to rise up, so he defaulted to habits that had yet to fail him. He went out to the store and got a drawing notebook and a pack of pencils and then colored pencils and got to work. He sat and drew as he continued to wait for Jerome, sifting through his mind.

He expected to draw that fantasy. That park and the grass and the serene expressions on his and Jerome’s faces. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it though and instead spent the next however long drawing memories rather than fantasy. All of them were Jerome, and there was blood everywhere. Most of them were just doodles, but the expressions he focused on. He made sure to capture the twisted enjoyment in each recall.

Only then did he divert to that sort of calm Jerome. Not Jeremiah, who was a coward and awkward and kind of annoying and paranoid and boring. A Jerome who’d grown up in a place that was loving and a world that was accepting.

This drawing took time. It was detailed and careful as Y/n drew the smiling face of a boy that had been destroyed before he even had a chance to begin. There was softness and warmth and gentleness and it made Y/n grown even more deeply.

“What’s that?”

He hadn’t realized Jerome and gotten up, but it didn’t bother him to show his boyfriend what he was doing. Harley had nothing to hide. “I’m having these thoughts. Watching Jeremiah and Bruce today...” he shrugged. “It made me think.”

Jerome hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to Harley. He tilted his head in curiosity. “Think about what?”

Harley offered a small smile. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jerome countered, “You don’t know what I want to know. Tell me!”

Sighing softly, Harley gave in. “You know every tine we have sex, it’s rough. And every time you kiss me it’s hard and desperate. Like it might be the last time. Every time you look at me there’s a heaviness in your expression. Like your affection for me is weighed down by something. By fear or anger or lust rather than love. And- I mean I don’t mind it. I like our sex.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at himself. “I don’t know I just saw how they looked at each other today. And the awkward way that they communicated. Being coy and innocent and flirty. It was kind of cute. Made me realize I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.”

Jerome nodded as he listened. He was getting better at that as time passed. He was easily bored and antsy, but spending time with Harley seemed to ease him in some way. Just enough that the two could hold out a surprisingly functional relationship. It was why Harley spoke so honestly now- there were no more secrets between them.

Jerome tugged the book and writing utensils out of Harley’s hands, setting them on the ground before pushing him down on the couch. “Is that what you want?”

Well that wasn’t expected. “Do I want someone else? Of course not.”

“No,” Jerome corrected. His hand rose to stroke Harley’s neck. The boy shivered. “Do you want me to be gentle?”

“I-“ Yet again Jerome had somehow surprised him. “Why?”

Jerome shrugged. “You deserve the world, my dear. If you want someone to look at you like those idiots in those sappy movies, I’ll do it at least once. My motto is that you have to try everything at least once to see if you like it. It’s how I figured out I like men.”

That made Harley chuckle. He touched Jerome lovingly, humming in thought. “You don’t have to change for me, J.”

“I know.” His hips dipped and he grinded into Harley. The boy beneath him gasped, his lips parting and his head pressing into the couch as his grip fighting in Jerome’s arm and shoulder. “Do you want me to do it or not? Just so you know.”

Taking a second to regain his breath, Harley nodded. “Just as long as you’re in charge.”

Jerome grinned. “Good, because tonight I’m in the mood to make you feel really good.”

Male reader tag List: @sheepfather

#jerome valeska #gothem #male reader #cameron monaghan #jeremiah x bruce #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x imagine #gothem imagine #gothem x reader #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #joker imagine #joker x reader #the best things series

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treatian · 3 years

Text

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 49: Honesty is the Best Policy

August Booth couldn't be Baelfire. Except…

He could be.

After he'd left the convent, he wasn't sure what he was feeling, so he did the only thing he could do to escape the emotions. He sat down at his wheel in the shop and decided to think instead of feel. The only problem was that he wasn't entirely sure what he should be thinking about either. He'd spent the rest of the entire day considering what he'd learned, and so far, he'd come up with uncertainty.

What were the chances? Could it be that after all this time, after all he'd done to get here, that Baelfire had found him? He went through the clues over and over again in his head, all the hints that worked in his favor, all that didn't.

What didn't fit? There was only one thing he kept coming up with over and over.

They'd met.

They'd talked.

The Blue Bug had claimed that Booth hadn't yet talked to his father. But…that could have been explained easily by saying that they hadn't spoken about their relationship. And other than that one little detail…everything else fit!

He was someone who had been separated from his father in a "difficult" way. Booth could have been lying. But he'd found that every lie had a kernel of truth to make it truly believable. If Booth was Bae, then a "difficult parting" was putting it lightly. They'd been ripped apart by a bean provided by none other than the Superior Bug herself.

And then there was the knife.

Booth had a picture of the dagger in his room, hand-drawn, detailed! His damn name was spelled correctly on the thing! Those were details that only Baelfire would know, and Bae…Bae had always loved drawing just like Milah. It made sense that Baelfire would draw the dagger from memory; he'd done things like that all the time when he was little.

And then there was that one undeniable fact. The Seer had put Booth's face in his head! She'd given him the knowledge that he knew Baelfire! Was it possible he knew Baelfire because he was Baelfire? Was Booth using a false name because he wasn't from here? Was it possible there were no records or hints of who he was because none existed? Because August Wayne Booth was just the name he'd come up with when he arrived? Was it possible, that after all this time, after all he'd done to get to this world, back to his boy, that his son had found him instead?

"A young boy will lead you to him…to what you seek…the boy will be your undoing…" That was what the Seer had said about getting his son back. A boy…Henry had been in the store that morning when Booth had come in. He'd only gone into the back because he'd been looking for something for Henry. It was the first time he'd taken a good look at the man himself. So, in a way, a boy had led him to him.

Everything fit.

So then why hadn't he come to him in that way?

If it was his son and he'd come all the way to Storybrooke from…wherever in the hell he'd come from, why hadn't he said something? Why all the cloak and dagger? Unless…

Unless he wasn't here to see him, unless he was here for a different purpose.

The dagger…

Baelfire had inherited Milah's artistry. They both had usually drawn things that they wanted. For Milah, it was always far off places that she had never seen, places her head invented. Baelfire had usually drawn pictures of people, himself surrounded by a group of friends or the pair of them together. But it wasn't a picture of his face he'd found in his room, or even Emma's or some mysterious person he'd never met and couldn't identify.

It was his dagger. That suggested that perhaps he wasn't here to see him but rather to find the dagger.

Baelfire was here to retrieve his dagger? But…but why unless…unless he wanted to end this. Could that be it? Could that be the reason for the distance for not revealing himself? Was he looking for the dagger to…to get his revenge? To punish him for leaving him alone in this world? To take the Curse away from him once and for all. Was he here to kill him?

"Issues to resolve between them"…he knew those had existed in spades! But were they really enough to turn his once gentle, brave boy into a revenge-seeking killer? Was that why he didn't want to come to him? To talk to him?

Maybe he was lucky that he hadn't come to him. He wouldn't even know where to start with him if he did. What was he supposed to say to him? What could he say after what he'd done? "Sorry" didn't seem like enough, and yet the word felt like it weighed a million pounds on his shoulders.

He hadn't felt this human in years, not since Belle. Despite his spinning, his chest felt tight, and his heart was beating wildly out of control. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He hadn't thought it might happen like this. He'd always thought that when this happened, he'd have time. He'd space to think about what to say to his son when he saw him again, about how to talk to him. He hadn't planned for this. He hadn't considered that Bae might find him, and he'd have to convince him to come clean!

He didn't realize what he was doing. He couldn't ever remember deciding to walk across the street when night fell and up the stairs to a humble office door. He hadn't realized he'd done it until he found himself knocking on the door of Archie Hopper.

But he doubted himself. The second his knuckles heard his own loud rap on the door, it jolted him into awareness.

What was he doing here? What was he going to say? Tell the cricket about his son, the one thing he refused to do with anyone, including Belle? He was mad to think he could! It was stupid to be here.

He'd made it approximately two steps before he heard the door whine open behind him, and he felt as though he'd just swallowed his heart. "Mr. Gold?" the Cricket inquired. "Are you here for the rent?"

He sighed. "Why does everyone ask that?"

"Well, because you, uh…never mind," he stuttered, putting his hands in his pockets and watching him with odd eyes. "Would…would you like to talk?"

Talk. Talk about the son he never talked about? To a bug? To the one part of all of this that didn't fit. The Dark-Haired Stranger knew Archie. But Bae had never met Archie or even Jiminy; he'd been gone before then. Unless…Superior had said Booth wanted counsel. He hadn't been watching him closely before today. Was it possible Booth had talked to Archie before? Maybe he did know him. Maybe they had talked. But did he? The answer was no, and yet when he pictured Booth's face…he saw Baelfire and felt his gut wrench and-

"I don't know" was what came out of his mouth.

Archie stepped back, away from him, providing a clear entrance into what he was sure he called an office. "Well, um…if you'd like to get something off your chest, please come in."

He paused for a moment, to think about it, to consider the implications of going into that room and talking to anyone about anything. Not only was he the Dark One, but he was also Mr. Gold. He didn't talk to anyone if he could help it. But…out of all the people in Storybrooke that would talk about him behind his back, Archibald Hopper was the least likely to do it. Cricket, conscious, psychologist…even if it was from a Curse, maybe it was the latter he needed the most. His son had been here in this world likely for a long time, and he hadn't a clue what was in his head. Maybe Archie would. And if it didn't work out? If all this failed…then when the Curse broke, he could either convince old Archie this was his Cursed self talking or, of course, give the Cricket a memory potion to forget it all. With magic on his side, he'd be able to do anything. With a bit of courage, he might be able to have this conversation.

The office was cozy. It was small, just a single room that he rented to him for a grand a month, but Archie had managed to make it comfortable; cushy chairs and sofas, soft lighting, a gentle paint color, even the dog was comfortable. He was lying inside the office on a thick dog bed with a fresh bowl of water and a toy bone nearby. Pongo. He should have known that he'd have a place in the office. Here in Storybrooke, there was rarely one without the other.

"Please, sit down…" Archie motioned to the small sitting area. He looked his options over with discomfort. He wasn't a "sofa person." He much preferred an armchair, something that exuded power and strength, something that he fit in. But there was nothing here that fit that description. It all seemed carefully chosen to make the individuals in the room equal; his least favorite word.

With a sigh, he accepted his fate and sat down on the couch opposite Archie. He tried for a moment to sit back, make himself comfortable but soon gave up. There was no possible way to be comfortable with all this. Why pretend?

"So…what would you like to talk about? What's on your mind?"

What wasn't on his mind? How in the world was he supposed to say it? "There is someone in my life I have been searching out for…for quite some time. I think…I think I might have found him."

"Tell me more. Who is this individual?" he asked gently, holding eye contact in a way that continued to make him uncomfortable. He tried not to think of when he'd met him as a boy when he'd first saved his parents or given him that tonic. Two lives…he hated how this damn Curse could muddy the waters.

"Not many people know this…"

"Whatever you tell me in this room is strictly confidential. It doesn't go beyond that. I could lose my license if I told anyone."

"Yes, I am a lawyer, Dr. Hopper; I know the ethics you are bound to are similar to those I am bound to."

"Right. I'm…I'm just trying to help."

"I have a son."

Suddenly the stone-cold look that Archie had been wearing since he saw him in the hallway, the look of gentle concern and sympathy vanished as his jaw dropped.

"A son?!" Archie blanched as he sat there, wringing his hands between his knees. His reaction wasn't much better, his heart sped up, and he felt like he was sweating bullets. After all this time, he'd finally said the words out loud for the first time in decades! And if that was how he reacted to knowing he had a child, he'd hate to see how the town would react if they knew about Belle. Now he knew why he'd kept it a secret for so long. This didn't feel good; it didn't feel right. "Wow, I-I didn't know you had a son. How…how old is he?"

It was a fair question. But one he didn't have the answer to. He'd always thought of Baelfire as a boy. But depending on the passage of time between here and the Enchanted Forest…he still could be a boy, but he could also be Booth's age, or his age, or hell even Granny's age! He couldn't even begin to answer that question, but how could he tell the Cursed Jiminy Cricket that?

"Let's start with something easier."

"O-Okay. Um…what do you mean to say that you may have found him?"

"Let's just say there's someone acting the way I would expect them to act."

"So, you…so, you recognize him?"

"Maybe. Or, perhaps, I'm just seeing what I want to see. I don't know…" he whispered. That was the biggest problem in this. He didn't know, not yet. He didn't have enough proof. If the Dark Haired Stranger, Booth, knew his son, couldn't Baelfire just as easily have told him about the dagger? No. Not Bae. He'd have known better. Wouldn't he? There was no telling after all the time that had passed.

"Okay, well, I mean, wouldn't he recognize you?"

"There was…conflict," he admitted, wishing he could remember Mother Superior's words. "I'm not sure he's ready for a tear-soaked reunion."

"So, he sought you out, and he's hanging back?"

He looked up at Archie hopefully. Yes, that was the heart of the issue, potentially. Perhaps the Curse had done the cricket well.

"Maybe, he's watching to see if he's welcome. Looking for a sign that all is forgiven."

He shook his head. "No, no, no. He's not the one that needs to be…" he had to pause to catch himself. He'd gotten worked up over the notion that Bae had done wrong when in reality, it was him who had done wrong. That didn't mean Archie needed to know that. And besides, if Booth was Baelfire, and he'd drawn out the dagger, then forgiveness might be the least of his problems. "I think he might still be very angry."

Archie took a breath, considering. "Anger between a parent and a child is the most natural thing in the world."

Not this kind of anger. "I think he might be here to try to kill me," he admitted darkly.

"Ah. Right. That's…that's not," the Cricket replied, obviously trying to find the words for the bombshell he'd just dropped onto him.

"I let him go. I've spent my entire life since trying to fix it, and now, he's finally here. And I just don't know what to do."

"Be honest," he insisted without a moment of hesitation.

He scoffed. It was so very like the bug to suggest such a thing. He had a feeling that after what happened to Geppetto's parents, honesty came easy to the insect. Perhaps he didn't understand that it didn't always come easily for everyone else.

"Just tell him what you told me, and ask him for forgiveness. And when you're face-to-face, you'll know what to do."

"Honesty's never been the best color on me."

"There's no other way," he insisted.

That was what he was afraid of.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Rumplestiltskin #dark one #mr gold #pinocchio #august booth #jiminy cricket #archie hopper #Baelfire #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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rhub4rb · 5 years

Text

Of Birds and Bugs

Prologue

-_-_-_-

It was all Jagged’s fault, really.

Though did that mean Marinette should thank him?

It had been a normal day. It was after school, and Marinette was spending this rare piece of spare time working, trying to find the perfect destination for a surprise class trip that she was helping Mme. Bustier to arrange.

It was more difficult than Marinette had expected it to be. The budget was tighter than Marinette had hoped, and there was only so few places that would keep all of her classmates interested. Marinette knew that she didn’t necessarily have to try and make the trip good for everyone, but she also knew that Lila would turn it on her and say that Marinette made the trip bad on purpose.

So, Marinette had spent a couple of days brainstorming ideas and possibilities, both nationally and internationally. Different destinations, hotels, events and the like, but they would either be discarded for not being in the budget, or because it would probably not be enjoyed by the class.

Even if her classmates didn’t like her anymore, Marinette was still class president for a reason, and that was for the fact that she was efficient.

Marinette had even spent all night just researching one location, only to trash the idea when dawn broke, realizing that, while the idea was good as a concept, would probably not have been interesting enough for her classmates.

Then, when also counting in the fact that the trip was supposed to be at least somewhat educational as well…

It was safe to say, Marinette was starting to get desperate.

Her biggest fear though, would be to have it all planned and ready to book, just to be thrown to the side because Lila couldn’t come because of whatever stupid lie she would come up with, forcing Marinette to scrap the idea because; If poor Lila couldn’t come, then Marinette wouldn’t mind finding something else, right?

Marinette let out a tired sigh, Tikki patting her on the knee in silent comfort.

The moment of quiet, however, was broken by the ringing of a phone, the ringtone one that made Marinette jump up from her seat to pick up the call, running around her room to find her phone somewhere in the room.

“Penny!” Marinette exclaimed, slightly breathless from her searching, greeted once she answered the call.

“Hello Marinette,” there was clear amusement in the voice of Penny Rolling on the other line. “Jagged was wondering if you could drop by the hotel, there’s something he wants to discuss with you.”

“Now?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” Penny sounded apologetic, and Marinette was quick to reassure.

“Of course not! I uh- I’ll hurry.”

“I’ll send a car over to pick you up. Take your sketchbook with you.” Penny added, and Marinette was already running around her rom, getting ready.

“Sure thing! See you soon Penny.”

A little break never hurt anyone.

Break might have been a generous word for what she was about to do.

The moment Marinette stepped into the hotel room, she was swept up in Jagged Stone’s arms, twirled around for a while before finally being put down, a little dizzy.

“Mari! You are just the rocking girl I need right now.” Jagged exclaimed. “There’s going to be this super rocking charity gala meant to support young creative souls like yours here in Paris next week, and I want you to design my suit for it.”

It took a second for Marinette to understand what Jagged had said, her eyes widening once realization hit her.

“R-really? Are you sure?”

Marinette had designed a couple of things for Jagged over the last few years, all the way from album covers and posters to performance outfits.

This time was different though, because if Marinette was right about what gala he was talking about, then there was a chance that he would be asked about who designed his suit, which meant that he would be stating on international television that Marinette had designed it for him.

Sure, Marinette had been mentioned in a few magazines from time to time, but this was on a whole other level.

“Of course, I’m sure! No one gets my rocking style like you do Mari.” Jagged said. “Which brings me to the next topic.”

Jagged propped his booted feet up on the coffee table, his arms crossed behind his head.

“I’m allowed to invite one or two people to come with me to the event, and I was wondering if you would like to go with me and Penny.”

“I-I- that would be amazing!” Marinette yelled out in excitement. “I would love to!”

“Awesome! Penny is gonna contact your teacher about getting you free from school a little earlier so you can focus on this, alright?”

Marinette just nodded hurriedly, getting out her sketchbook and started asking questions, if there was anything in particular that he wanted.

“I just want the suit to be me, you know? None of that fancy crap, I want it to be Rock n’ Roll!”

Marinette had to pause for a moment to try and figure out which route to go with for the design. Despite Jagged being adamant that the suit could not be fancy, he was still going to attend a high-end gala.

An idea suddenly struck, and Marinette started sketching furiously, until she had a rough sketch of an idea she liked, showing it to Jagged.

Jagged’s eyes lit up, and with a few pointers here and there, Marinette was able to come up with a design that she was happy with.

“We’ll pay for whatever fabrics you need; you just focus on making that rocking suit for me, and of course a lovely dress for you.”

After that, the next couple of days were a bit of a blur for Marinette.

Between school, trying to make that trip a reality, and finishing Jagged’s and her own clothes for the gala, Marinette had been so busy that she hardly even paid Lila any mind.

She didn’t even realize that Lila planned a party to be thrown the exact same day as the gala took place, or that she wasn’t even invited, her focus was solely on finishing Jagged’s suit on time.

Still, when the gala finally came, Marinette was not prepared for the amount of paparazzi that would be present outside of the gala.

Because of the amount of celebrities that would be present, no one outside of those invited were allowed in, making the place outside cramped as reporters tried to get a look at the various important people who would be present.

Penny, noticing Marinette’s discomfort by the number of reporters, tried to calm her down a bit.

“It’s going to be fine Marinette, both you and Jagged look wonderful tonight.”

“Yeah, my little Rockstar! You have nothing to be worried about.” Jagged tried to reassure.

“It’s not that. It’s just-“ Marinette thought about her classmates, about how Lila would lie and manipulate the situation, about the accusations of why she didn’t tell them about it. “Do you think I could get in another way?”

Marinette focused in her lap, not seeing the concerned glance that the two adults shared.

“Of course, I’ll go with you.” Penny said, and once Jagged Stone got out of the car and was flocked by various paparazzi, all of which held back by bodyguards. Penny instructed the chauffer to drive a little further ahead, where she and Marinette got out, and went in through another door.

Jagged was asked a wave of questions, from his latest album, to his next tour and, of course, who designed his suit for the evening.

The pants were a deep purple, with studs going along the hem and up his legs. The jacket was made of leather, but designed like a normal suit jacket, studs covering the lapels. His button up shirt was made of black, see-through lace, and he wore black lace gloves to go with, these not being fingerless like his usual ones. Marinette had said they looked more sophisticated.

The button up shirt wasn’t buttoned all the way up, and his boots were a little high, the heels being covered in a purple metal.

“This rocking outfit was designed by my favorite creative soul here in Paris, a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

As the paparazzi asked more questions and Jagged slowly, but finally, made his way inside, another rich person came to walk the carpet to get in, and got swamped by all of the paparazzi.

Penny and Marinette spent the time talking to one another while waiting for Jagged to get inside, a few people throwing curious glances at Marinette as they didn’t recognize her.

Penny was concerned, however. She had noticed over the week how Marinette avoided certain topics or would divert a conversation once it went to talk about her classmates.

Penny knew that Jagged had noticed it too, and if they were the reason Marinette was worried about walking down the carpet with Jagged, then they had to do something about it.

“So…” Penny started. “How is it going with school?”

“It’s going well, my grades are doing pretty good despite my occasional absences but-“ Penny cut Marinette off.

“I meant your classmates. How is it going with your classmates?” She tried.

Marinette looked down.

She had guessed that it was going to be brought up eventually, she had just hoped that it would have been later. She sighed.

“It’s… kind of complicated-“ Marinette was cut off once again, but this time by an excited Jagged Stone who just got inside.

Marinette, seeing this as an opportunity to avoid the most likely awkward conversation that was about to happen between Penny and her, looked up at Jagged with a smile as he slung his arm over her shoulder.

“You are going to be so busy from now on Marinette, I’ve already had so many people come up to me and ask for your contact information. Be prepared for an onslaught of emails in the future.”

And just like that, the conversation about classmates was forgotten in favor of mingling with the rich and famous. Marinette was introduced to a series of people, her email was shared, and for once, she seemed to smile just a little brighter than before.

Marinette was at the refreshment table when Jagged walked up to her, with a tall, muscular looking businessman.

“Mari! I’ve gotta introduce you to this rocking fellow. This is Bruce Wayne, one of the few good rich folks you’ll meet.”

Bruce seemed slightly startled by that description but smiled none the less to Marinette.

“It’s nice to meet you miss…”

“Oh! Uh- Marinette! Marinette Dupain-Cheng, sir.” Marinette hurried.

“Mari here is my favorite little designer. We’ve been working together since she was 14.” Jagged said proudly. “When I got invited to this fancy gala thing, I knew only Marinette could make me something to absolutely rock tonight.”

Bruce’s eyes widened in surprise, and he looked Jagged over, assessing the overall design and quality.

“You made this? The quality looks incredible.” He looked at her. “And I’m going to guess you made your jumpsuit as well?”

Marinette stammered, before quickly nodding her head.

While working on Jagged’s suit, Marinette had to make her own outfit as well.

She was originally going to just make a dress, but then she flipped through her sketchbook and found the design for the jumpsuit, and immediately started working on that.

The jumpsuit itself was deep red, accentuating her long legs, and with the kitty heels she was wearing, made her look slightly taller. It was sleeveless, and the top had sharp edges, making a small angular dip at her chest. Marinette had wanted to give a nod towards Jagged with her design, seeing as it was because of him that she could even be there, so she added a floor length (foe) leather skirt, cut down at the front to reveal her legs, and lined with a deep red on the inside.

“I was just glad that Jagged wanted me to design this for him.” Marinette said meekly, tugging at her braided side-ponytail.

“No need to be so humble, Mari! Of course, I wanted you to do this!” Jagged looked at Bruce, eyes wide and full of stars, almost like a proud parent. “Mari is such a talented girl, and she won’t even brag about it! But, that’s why I’m here.”

Jagged proceeded to tell Bruce about Marinette’s long list of accomplishments, from the various contests she had won, to all the things she had designed for him and Clara Nightingale, to how she had been class president for the last three years.

Marinette was slowly curling in on herself, her shoulders rising, her head sinking, trying to disappear from that very moment.

Bruce, seeming to take pity on the girl, decided to cut in on Jagged’s ramble about his talented “niece”.

“What sort of duties do you have as class president?” Bruce asked.

Marinette, straightening after finally being addressed, pondered the question for a moment.

“I’m often mediator in conflicts that pop up in the class and I arrange a couple of class trips.” She said. “I’m trying to figure out a longer trip away from the school, but the budget is pretty limited, so it’s hard to find something that goes under all of the requirements, not to mention interesting enough to for the rest of class.” Marinette frowned, thinking about all of the places she had considered, but ultimately not going with.

“I’m hoping to have found something by the end of the month but…” Marinette shrugged.

Bruce nodded in understanding, a plan already forming in his mind.

-_-_-_-

I hope that was good! I plan on posting this every other week, with MJM being posted the other weeks

@ozmav I hope you enjoyed this long prologue

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wisdom-walks-alone · 4 years

Text

maybe someday i’ll come back to you

Dick and Damian centric. Emotional hurt/comfort. Hurt Damian Wayne. Amnesiac Dick Grayson (Ric). Coming out. 3019 words.

Summary:

"Do you wanna come in?"

He wants to say no. But there's a pang in his chest, a desperate ache for someone who no longer exists, and he finds himself saying yes.

In which there's only one person that Damian would want to go to for comfort.

Shoutout to the AMAZING @darlinglissa for betaing this!

read it on ao3

The key feels familiar in Damian's hand, familiar like the pattern on the carpet and the musty smell of the hallway. He stares at it, feels it between his fingers and fidgets with it. His grip tightens as he feels his expression sour. If he wanted to, he could put the key in the doorknob, turn it, hear the lock click and push the door open. It would be so easy.

But he can't do that. Damian knows this, so he doesn't. Instead, he pockets the key, and he lifts his hand to knock. But all of his usual confidence and self-assuredness suddenly evaporates, and he hesitates, staring up at the numbers on the door and catching his lip between his teeth. Dropping his hand, Damian steps back to lean against the wall and lets himself slide to the floor, still staring up at the numbers on the apartment door.

This was a stupid idea, he tells himself. He shouldn't have come here.

Just as he's about to get up and leave, the door swings open. "Can I help you?" asks his brother. Except it's not his brother, Damian has to remind himself. His brother is dead.

"No, no," he replies, standing up quickly and dusting himself off. "I was just leaving. Sorry to bother you."

Before he can make it more than a few steps down the hallway, Dick's voice calls after him. "Kid, wait." Damian looks back and sees the man biting his lip as if contemplating something before shaking his head in resignation. "Do you wanna come in?"

Damian stares at him and blinks, not quite processing what he just said. The man just raises an eyebrow at him and tilts his head. Well?

He wants to say no. But there's a pang in his chest, a desperate ache for someone who no longer exists, and he finds himself saying yes.

For what it's worth, the apartment hasn't changed much. There's a few pieces of clothing he doesn't recognize draped over various pieces of furniture, but it's the same mess all the same. Some things just never change, Damian supposes.

The pictures are gone, though. Dick always kept pictures around his apartment, dozens of them. Damian has a mental catalogue of every single one and where it hung or sat framed on a shelf. All that's there now are bare walls and the ghosts of a thousand memories.

"Do you want something to drink?" Dick's voice comes from the kitchen.

"If it is not too much trouble," Damian answers, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Thank you for your hospitality, Richard."

"Ric is fine."

"That is duly noted, Richard."

He can hear a deep sigh from the kitchen. "I've got coffee, coke, and… You're a kid so you probably don't drink, so, uh, do you want some apple juice? Orange juice?"

Damian scoffs. "I am fifteen years old, I am not a child."

"So, a coke then?"

"Do you have tea?"

"Uh." There's some shuffling sounds as Damian imagines him rummaging through the cabinets. "Yeah. I have earl gray or chamomile-"

"Do you have jasmine?" Damian asks, biting back a little bit of hope.

"Um, I don't think…" There's some more rummaging, then a surprised, "Oh, yeah, I do have jasmine."

Something tugs at his heart as a wry smile tugs at his lips. Dick hated jasmine tea, but he always kept a box of it for Damian. He knew it was his favorite. Memories of late night post patrol drinks as Batman and Robin come to mind, Dick telling Alfred to surprise him as they began to unwind in the cave. Dick never minded what beverage he had after patrol, but Damian always had jasmine tea.

His eye catches on something laying on the arm of the couch, and he picks it up to inspect it. The hockey jersey from the game Dick took him to for his fourteenth birthday. It was the poorly named Gotham City Penguins against the Star City Icewalkers. Gotham had won eight-to-two, and Dick had insisted they get matching jerseys of the player who scored the winning goal. Damian had scoffed and turned his nose at the idea then, but now he wishes with every inch of his body that he could go back.

There's a laundry basket at his feet next to the couch, and he's about to drop the jersey into it when he sees a woman's blouse laying inside.

A woman has been staying here.

Damian internally shivers at the thought and drops the jersey into the basket.

He wanders back to the small dining table and reaches for a chair that has a jacket draped over the back. It's one of Jason's jackets, Damian registers, that Dick borrowed and evidently never returned. He pulls the chair out and sits as Richard emerges from the kitchen with two cups, setting one in front of Damian before taking a seat across from him.

"It's Damian, isn't it?" Richard starts, and Damian pretends his insides don't twist a little at that.

"Yes," he answers, sniffing his cup of tea as he brings it to his lips and takes a sip. The warmth of it pools in his chest, the familiar taste dancing on his taste buds, and for a moment he can imagine he’s ten years old again, sitting at the table in the batcave after a night of patrol. Damian has to keep himself from chasing the euphoria of it before he chugs the whole thing in one go.

Richard takes a sip of his own drink. "So, what brings you here, Damian?" he asks, but he looks like he already knows the answer.

"I…" Damian licks his lip and bites down on it as he struggles with his words, blinking hard. He'd avoided voicing his feelings on the matter, had avoided the subject altogether for the last few months. He hadn't talked about it with anyone, not Father, not Tim or Barbara, not even Alfred. He hadn't even allowed himself much time to think about it as he spent countless nights in the cave training, trying to escape from his own thoughts. "I—I just miss him, I suppose." Richard just makes a humming noise.

"I'm sorry, and I know you've probably heard that a million times, but that's really all I can say." He looks at Damian sympathetically, but Damian looks away to stare into his drink. "I know it must be hard, and that it really sucks, but I need you to know that I'm not-"

"I am well aware that my brother died that night," Damian interrupts, his grip on his cup tightening. He takes a second to concentrate on his breathing, then lets the warmth of the cup on his hands ground him as he finally looks up.

The man in front of him doesn't look like Dick, not really. His hair is still short from when it had been shaved, which gives a perfect view of the ugly scar above his ear, and he carries himself in a way that Damian’s never seen with his brother, not even when undercover. But he's looking at Damian with the same kind, patient eyes that he knows so well, and Damian bursts into tears.

Ric isn't sure why he invited the kid in. Maybe it was how sad and dejected he looked, the way he seemed already so resigned. Maybe it was the way he hadn't barged in here insisting that he remember memories he doesn’t have and that he be someone he’s not. Maybe it was the fact that he was about to leave.

Whatever the reason was he’d done it. He didn't mean to, he’d just blurted it out. Something just told him he couldn't let the kid go. As soon as the offer had come out of his mouth Ric knew it was a mistake. Or, at least, he thought it would be.

This time is different, Ric can feel it. He’d expected another desperate “family” member begging him to come home to a place he doesn’t remember ever being to. For tears and pleas and mentions of moments he doesn’t recall in the hopes that there’s one that he will. But the kid just looked at him like a kicked puppy and tried to run away.

He couldn’t just kick a puppy to the curb.

The kid—Damian, if he remembered correctly—had defied all of Ric’s expectations. He was quiet and didn’t make any attempt at conversation, didn’t make any move to initiate the dance he’s done countless times with Bruce and Barbara. And for the first time since waking up in this mess Ric feels bad—really bad, not just the obligatory pity.

And now, fuck, now the kid was crying. It’s not like Ric hasn’t dealt with crying before, Barbara had cried plenty. But this is different, somehow.

“Shit, hey, kid, I—”

“Fuck, fuck,” Damian swears breathily, the sweatshirt sleeves that are too long for his arms covering the heels of his hands as he digs them into his eyes. He hunches into himself, his chair skidding back a few inches, still cursing and trying desperately to reign in his sobs. “Fuck, I—I’m sorry, I should go.”

He stands up abruptly and swiftly starts toward the door, ducking his head, but Ric reaches out and catches him by the arm. "Hey, shit, kid, wait a minute, just… Don't—don't go." Damian stares at him, that kicked puppy look mixing with deer in headlights, tears still prickling at his eyelashes. Ric doesn't take his hand away, just stares back pleadingly.

He's not sure why, but he just can't stand to let the kid leave in tears.

Damian stares at him for a long time, green eyes scrutinizing him, all the hurt written as plain as day on his face. When he finally speaks it’s sharp, barely above a whisper. “Why shouldn’t I?”

The question stumps him, it packs a punch he wasn’t expecting, and Ric is left with his mouth hanging open looking for words that don't come. “Look,” he finally manages to get out, “I just want to talk. You were there when I woke up, weren’t you? So you must’ve been important to me, right?”

The words feel wrong on his tongue, but they're all he could come up with to try and get the kid to stay, his efforts to separate himself from that guy be damned.

It must have been the wrong thing to say, though, because anger flares in the kid’s face, mouth contorting in a sneer. “You’re not him,” he spats, eyes like ice. “You’ll never be him, so you can stop trying.”

Ric doesn’t know what to say to that. Shocked, he lets go of Damian’s arm and slumps back in his chair. And that’s when it hits him that this is the first person who doesn’t expect him to be Dick Grayson, doesn’t want him to try to be. He laughs at the irony of it, which clearly startles Damian. “You're right,” Ric says, “I’m not him. And I don't want to be him. I don't know if I’ll ever be him again, I don't think he’s here anymore.” He taps himself on the head. “But you look like you need to talk. To him or about him, whatever you need to get off your chest, and I’m offering you a chance to do that in one way or another. So if you wanna sit back down and talk about it or get the hell out of here, that’s up to you, and it doesn't matter much to me either way.”

That's kind of a lie; he'll feel guilty as hell if the kid leaves now, leaves angry, but it doesn't look like he needs to worry about that as the kid sighs and slumps back into his seat. He looks tired.

“It’s stupid,” he says quietly, leaning forward on the table and rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s pathetic. I just…I miss him so much. Not that it matters to you, but Grayson—Dick was my most trusted confidant. There has been…a lot on my mind, recently. There is a lot I wish I could tell him.”

This kid just looks so lost and alone, and Ric’s heart aches for him. Ric doesn't know how to say that it does matter to me, kid, just not in the same way it would matter to him.

The kid looks like he’s about to break down again, and for the first time Ric wishes for all the world that he could be Dick Grayson.

Instead, he settles for something else. “Look, kid, it’s not stupid and…and it’s not pathetic. It’s normal and understandable. You miss him, and…he was obviously important to you.” He sighs, runs a hand over his face roughly. “Listen, I’m not going to sit here and try to be anything close to what he was to you. But I’m offering something else.”

Damian smiles ruefully. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Ric smiles in a way he hopes is encouraging. “Well, why don't you start with what brought you here? Did anything happen or…were you just missing him?”

Damian ducks his head, and Ric thinks there’s something like a blush painting his cheeks. “Yes, well, that actually is stupid.”

“Come on, kid.”

“It is trivial,” Damian corrects. “It’s stupid that something like this is what brought me here.”

“Try me.”

Damian sucks in a breath and releases it through his nose, closing his eyes. “I kissed my best friend yesterday.”

Ric has to laugh out loud at that. “What, so you think just because you dress up in spandex at night and punch criminals you’re not allowed to have normal teenager problems? Those bat-freaks really did a number on you, huh.” Damian just scoffs.

“It’s trivial. It’s insignificant. In the grand scheme of things—”

“You’re allowed to be a teenager, dude. No matter what freaky night job you might have, you’re allowed to have feelings. Man, has no one really told you that? That’s—”

“Dick would have.”

And Ric stops in his tracks.

Damian’s gaze shifts down to his lap. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh.”

It’s quiet for a minute. Damian fidgets in his seat, and Ric tries to think of what to say next.

“Well…” He finally breaks the silence. “What happened after you kissed your friend? How did she react?”

Damian laughs sadly, humorlessly. Ric just tilts his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t stick around for his reaction.”

Oh.

“Oh, shit, kid, this is something Dick would’ve known about isn't it, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Damian shakes his head, “he didn’t—I mean, he knew Jon was my best friend, but he didn’t know—”

“Oh, kid.”

“Yeah.”

“Does anyone else…?”

The kid lets out a strangled sound. “I wanted him to be the first one I told.”

“I am so sorry, kid.”

“I know you are.”

It’s quiet again. The kid cries softly, and Ric waits for him to get a hold of himself again. “So you kissed your best friend,” he reiterates. “And you didn’t stay for his reaction. Is there anything that he’s done that makes you think he’d react badly?”

“No,” Damian answers instantly. “He wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“So what’s the worst that could happen?” Damian looks at him and gives him a look that begs him to understand. Ric huffs out a laugh. “You’re afraid of rejection.”

The kid looks away quickly, a scoff on his lips.

“Everyone gets scared of rejection, kid. That’s normal.” Damian still won’t look at him. “I get it. You’re afraid of what this means for your friendship. You’re afraid things’ll be weird.”

Damian nods slowly. “Yes, to all of that, but…I am also afraid of what would happen if…if he…”

“If he reciprocates,” Ric finishes. Damian nods again, finally looking back up at him.

“I’ve never been in a relationship before,” he admits. “I think I am the worst person you could be in a relationship with.”

Ric’s heart stutters a little at that. “Listen, kid, everyone deserves to be happy. Don't let what you think of yourself get in the way of that.”

The kid tucks into himself again, rubbing his arm. “Jon is too good for me. I would just corrupt him.”

“Would Jon say that?”

“No—”

“Well there you go.” Ric grins at him. “Talk to him. If he’s as great as you say he is I’m sure only good things can come from it.”

Slowly, Damian nods. “Yes. You are right.” He looks up. “Thank you.” And Ric can tell he means it.

“Anytime,” Ric replies, and maybe he means it, too. He gives the kid a small smile, and he’s pleased when it’s returned.

“I should…I should get going.” Damian stands and pushes in his chair. He stops, as if suddenly remembering something. “You might want this back,” he says, digging something out of his pocket and holding it out. It’s a key.

Before he can think about it too much, Ric makes a decision. “Keep it,” he says easily. And then, before he can think too hard again, “I meant it when I said anytime.”

Damian doesn’t try to hide his surprise, just stares at Ric for a long moment before sticking the key back in his pocket. “Thank you,” he says softly. “Thank you, Ric.”

Ric smiles, nods genially. “Anytime, kid.” And as the kid makes his way to the door, Ric makes one more split second decision. “And kid?” Damian turns around in the doorway. “Call me Dick.”

The kid looks startled for a second, but then he smiles a little, huffs out a little laugh. He says one last thing before he turns around and leaves. “Thanks, Dick.”

When Damian leaves, he feels lighter. As if all the weight he’s been carrying around has finally dissipated. He still misses Dick, the real Dick, but this isn’t so bad. It’s not the same, but it’s not completely different, either.

#my fics #dc fic #dick grayson #damian wayne #ric grayson #ew i know #batfam fic #batfam #batman #robin #nightwing #dc #dc comics #jay writes #batman fic #batbros #nightwing fic

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anywhozits · 4 years

Text

All I Really Want Chapter 4

Rating: M

Pairing: Kristanna (at some point lol)

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Chapter Summary: Hans and Anna go on a their first date.

Notes: This chapter has some extra warnings—there are references to and conversations about underage sex. Nothing graphic, nothing explicit. None of that will be in any chapter of this fic. However, while reading this chapter specifically, it is important to note that this is a fictional account of one character’s experience. This is definitely not meant to be a universal depiction of how adolescence is “supposed to go” or anything to that effect. Everybody has their own timelines for things like this, which is perfectly valid, and in fact, exactly how it should be—individualized.

Read on Ao3

Anna took a deep breath, sighing contentedly while smoothing out her pink silk dress. She knew Hans didn’t mean to be late or keep her waiting or whatever, but she sat here, ready, for the last twenty minutes and he said he was going to arrive ten minutes ago. But Anna didn’t even know whether to trust his word at this point.

She didn’t even know him, really. She didn’t even know what he was like…

Yeah. True. Ugh—shit. Kristoff was right. She didn’t know that much about him.

Well. Okay—his last name was Westergaard. He had 13 brothers.

Um.

He had red hair and green eyes and this really pointy nose that looked really hot and cute at the same time. Like hotute or umm maybe hute. Nah. Hotute was much better.

So, yeah. He had red hair, green eyes, and a hotute nose.

What else…

He lived in Newport Beach.

And… she also knew that…

They had a lot of fun together! They had the most fun together she’d ever had with anybody in her whole life.

And this fun, well—she moved a little quickly with him. It was her decision to take things past kissing on their second night together. And duh—kissing him brought out some kind of really nice jolt of electricity, and it felt so absolutely amazing to actually share that electricity with someone else. So, she couldn’t help it. She was happy to move… quickly. She was more than happy to. They hadn’t done everything yet, but...

Well, it meant they didn’t do much… talking, exactly.

Of course, Anna still found the words somehow in between kisses and um—other things—to monologue about whatever consumed her mind.

But Hans didn’t say much at all. About himself, at least. He still asked a lot of personal questions about her life.

Maybe she should ask him some for a change. Besides, they couldn’t make out throughout the whole dinner, either. That felt like a big no-no in such a super ritzy establishment as Five Crowns anyway. So, they had to talk.

Her stomach suddenly sank.

It was like… she was nervous?

About spending the night with her… friend… with? benefits?

But that seemed so wrong? Why would she be nervous about spending a couple hours gnawing on steak and delicious soufflé and talking with the guy she loved most?

Why did the entire concept of conversation make her want to barf on the spot?

Her stomach fell to her knees.

Maybe Kristoff was right. Maybe love at first sight didn’t exist and she was just lying to herself because she wanted it so badly and…

No. No. Kristoff was getting in her head. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.

She and Hans would make wonderful conversation at their friends-with-benefits-dinner-date and it would be all fine and dandy and wonderful.

She’d ask him some questions. She’d get to know him. And then she’d show Kristoff! She’d show the shit out of him and that grumpy BFF of hers would be totally wrong!

Except Hans still wasn’t here. So, Anna nervously fidgeted with her dress again. She tried to smooth it out. She clipped and unclipped the two hot pink sparkly snap clips that were on either side of her middle-parted red hair.

After her seventh time fiddling with the clips, she heard the intimidating chime of the doorbell.

Thank God.

She counted to twenty-five before she allowed herself to open the door, needing him to think she had better things to do than twiddle her thumbs and wait for him.

The second she saw his handsome face, her entire bundle of nerves completely disappeared. “Hans!” She ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck to give him a passionate kiss on the lips. He stumbled back a little bit, not quite ready for this show of affection, probably, but he caught himself easily, finally relaxing into the kiss and bringing his hands to the small of her back.

“You ready, babe?”

She kissed him again. “Mmhmm,” she mumbled into his mouth.

“Let’s do it.”

And all of a sudden, the nerves were back. Now that she had to contemplate how they would make it through dinner before getting back to this whole smooching business.

But she gave him no inkling of any of these likely-Kristoff-induced-second-thoughts and smiled brightly. She followed him to his black Mercedes and bit her lip for the entirety of the car ride. His hand rested on her thigh, squeezing it ever so slightly.

Only letting up when they pulled off Pacific Coast Highway and into the Five Crowns Parking lot and Anna caught herself shaking.

Nervous, still.

Thankfully Hans took her hand, guiding her into the restaurant in a way that felt more… relationship-y than she was expected. This wasn’t friends. It certainly didn’t seem like friends.

Oh, crap. Maybe she needed to have this conversation with Hans tonight, too. Crap. Crapity crap crap crap. That was not at all what she wanted.

But the fact that there were about five hundred million butterflies eating away at absolutely everything in her stomach right before she was about to chow down on some delicious and expensive food that she actually really wanted to enjoy…

She should do it. Yup. She should do it. All she had to do was wait for the perfect window of opportunity and then she’d just—bam get it all out there out in the open and then they’d say I love yous for days and then go back to his car for some making out and it would be glorious and perfect and probably the best date she’d ever been on.

Wait.

Date. This was a date.

She and Hans hadn’t really… been on a date since they met in February. Not a real date, at least. They went to the movie Vegas Vacation but classically sat in the back and made out the whole time, like, so much so that she didn’t even know exactly what the plot was besides the Griswolds going to Las Vegas and oh yeah—Wayne Newton was also there at some point?

She didn’t count that as a date, exactly. Because of the lack of… talking.

And all the other times they only hung out at each other’s houses.

Which meant… this was her first date. What better time to figure out if they were hopefully something more than just friends? Because friends with benefits wasn’t really what she wanted out of any of this. She knew she should be thankful that she had love. They loved each other. That was great. But… she wanted a relationship, too.

Okay. So that was the game plan. All systems very much go.

When she looked around at the restaurant, taking in the English Tudor / nautical hybrid décor, she began to feel a little out of her element. Her silk dress suddenly became itchy. Everybody else in the restaurant had to be at least 40 years old at a minimum and she thought she must seem like a child. Her pink dress and her pink glitter snap clips and her pink eyeshadow only further proved this point.

This made her even more nervous. Uncomfortable. It made her worry she’d never find the right opportunity to have this mature and important conversation when she felt like she was eight years old and at her father’s birthday dinner again.

But she’d try…

When they sat down next to each other at their corner booth, Anna’s stomach lurched. Still very worried. Still very young and out of place. Now was definitely not the right opportunity.

The right opportunity didn’t arise when they ordered their French Onion Soups and Filet Mignons.

The right opportunity didn’t arise when they received their French Onion Soups, when they slurped them up, when Anna realized her breath probably reeked more than she cared to admit.

But once the French Onion Soups were cleared, once Hans placed his right arm comfortably over Anna’s shoulders, so she could lean in close… she thought maybe now was the time.

But Hans wanted to talk, too.

“What classes are you in this year?”

This question jarred her. She hadn’t realized they somehow hadn’t covered any of this basic information in the last month. “Oh. Um. I’m taking Geometry Honors, Spanish II, World History, Conceptual Physics or whatever the freshman science is. Oh! And also, studio art because that sounded fun!” She had to take a break for a bit to catch her breath. “English I, too. But I’m not that happy about it because I really wanted Honors English but apparently that doesn’t exist for freshmen? Which seems really dumb because obviously there’s a lot of us who can handle it. I’ve already read like all of the books on our English I reading list. Like, Sense and Sensibility? Jane Eyre? Catcher in the Rye? Honestly? That feels like middle school to me but whatever.” Anna didn’t usually let that many people in on her secret middle school classic literature obsession, but once she got going she couldn’t stop herself. “Um. Sorry. I got all rambly again. I just really like English. It’s my favorite subject. If you couldn’t already tell…”

“Yeah. English is solid.”

“Mmhmm! And what are you taking?” Anna asked. “Let me guess. You look like an … AP US History guy. French III? Regular English. Ummm.. I don’t know what math. And probably um chemistry honors?”

“Close.”

“So, what is it?”

“I’m in Latin. And yep. APUSH, regular English, Chem Honors. I’m in AP Stats this year. I was so over calculus. Such a bullshit class. Tried it for a day but that bitch Ms. Maloney fucking hated me for no reason.”

“Oh. Okay.” Anna bit her lip. This was stagnating. And he was way too oddly aggressive about that calc class. Her stomach dropped again. She wanted to make sure they had the best conversation of their entire lives at Five Crowns on her first real date. “So, then what’s your favorite subject?”

“History.”

“What do you like about it?” Anna asked.

“Wars are hella dope. Cool to learn about.”

“Ah,” Anna said. “Any one in particular?” She tried her best.

“I dunno. I’ve always been into The Great War.”

“That’s World War I, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like that’d be a good one.” Anna cringed. Her whole body tensed. She hoped he didn’t notice. This conversation felt awkward. She needed to change the subject. “And you play baseball? Any other sports?”

“Nah,” he said as he squeezed her shoulder. “You had that track meet last weekend, right?”

“Yeah. I did. All day Saturday,” she explained, leaning in closer to him. “I did the pole vault, triple jump, and a relay.”

“That sounds pretty fly.”

“Mmhmm. I guess. But…” Anna sighed. “I kinda wish I hadn’t gone. It was, like, the whole day and I came home to a message from Elsa, so. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not meant for track.”

“What’d Elsa have to say?”

“Not too much, really. It was a short message…” Anna’s voice got a little lower. “But she said she’s pretty nervous because she’s meant to hear from colleges soon.”

“Ah,” Hans said. “Well, I wish her luck.”

“Me, too.”

Anna sighed. Sustained silence fell between them for a short while. And Anna couldn’t help but realize… maybe this was her window of opportunity.

“Um… Hans?

“Wazup?”

“What… are we?”

“What do you mean what are we?”

“Oh, duh. Yeah. Well, it’s not—I don’t mean like—what are we—like humans or whatever. It’s not… deep like that,” Anna winced at her futile attempts to explain her nervous thoughts. “I just mean… what are we? You know—in our… relationship or friendship or whatever it is.”

“Oh.”

“You get it? Does that make sense? I can try explaining it again if it doesn’t…”

“I get it.”

“Okay,” she exhaled. Then inhaled. She bit her lip again. For probably the 50th time that night. “So then… what are we?”

“We’re us.”

“Right. And what is us?”

“We’re having fun. Aren’t we? Didn’t you have hella fun watching Vegas Vacation?

Anna’s cheeks flushed red. “We didn’t watch—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But didn’t you have a blast, anyway? Aren’t you having fun right now?”

“Of course I am, I just meant—”

“That’s all we’re doing, babe. We’re having fun.”

“So we’re… so you’re not my—we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend is what you’re saying?”

“We’re having fun.”

Anna could feel her heartbeat quickening. Her stomach couldn’t drop any lower than it already had.

Now they were confirmed just friends. Even though she wanted this date at Five Crowns to mark the start of something a bit more serious…

But maybe…

Maybe they didn’t need labels to be serious. Maybe they were already serious.

Thinking of this, Anna stared into his green eyes, catching some swirls of what she hoped was sincerity hidden within. “You love me though, don’t you?”

“Of course I love you, babe. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

She smiled now, snuggling into him further, content. It didn’t matter what they were, it didn’t matter what they called themselves. They had each other. They had snuggles and smooches and smiles and now a real, legit, super-fun date and they loved each other since the very second they laid eyes on each other.

Take that, Kristoff. Mr. Grumpy-Doesn’t-Believe-in-Love-At-First-Sight man. You lost today, sucker.

She planted a gentle kiss on his lips, a kiss that deepened, continuing until their orders of Filet Mignon were placed gingerly in front of them.

Without the constant pressure of the impending scary and mature conversation, Anna gobbled up her food with ease, quickly, in fact—because she was starting to look more and more forward to the after-date than the date itself.

So much so that she considered skipping out on the chocolate soufflé entirely. And chocolate was her favorite thing in the world. Period.

Once the chocolate soufflés arrived, though, she realized that would’ve been a grave error. No way no how.

Naturally she inhaled the chocolate soufflé. In a way that left Hans laughing and laughing, trying as hard as he could to wipe the chocolate off of her mouth and her shoulders and her dress… and also the walls and some areas of the booth… safe to say, Anna had made quite the mess.

And with him touching her and laughing with her, Anna became giddy. When Hans paid with his Visa platinum and signed the check, taking Anna’s hand again and helping her out of the booth, Anna’s giddiness turned ecstatic.

He thought she was funny. He laughed at her jokes. He laughed at her antics. He helped clean up her mess.

And they had a good conversation about school and a really informative conversation about their relationship. And they loved each other, of course. That was important, too.

Still overjoyed, Anna sat again in Hans’s black Mercedes. Hans drove to one of the Crystal Cove beach parking lots. They parked the car.

The entire area was dark. Nobody was there. Not a car. Not a soul. Not even a seagull.

Anna knew where this was going.

Her heart beat quickly for a new and exciting reason.

Their lips touched with sparks of electricity; a fervent move that sent them shimmying into the backseat of the car.

Anna was no stranger to the black leather seats. She was no stranger to this position.

She’d moved quickly with him. She recognized that. But hearing a chorus of Hans’s delectable I love yous made fireworks ignite within her soul. And so, it didn’t seem quick at all. It seemed just about right. Perfect. If they loved each other on the first night, then everything naturally had to follow at lightning speed to match.

Right?

“Hey, babe?” Hans whispered in her ear, so close that it tickled her a bit and she giggled.

“Yeah?”

“Can we do it?”

She giggled again. “I mean—sure. Yeah. When were you—”

“Tonight,” he said. “Now.”

“Oh.” Anna was out of her element again. Yes, she liked moving quickly. Yes, she liked everything else they’d done, but… this? Tonight?

She didn’t think she was ready. She didn’t feel ready. Did anybody ever feel ready? Did it matter?

It was then that she realized Arendelle Academy had failed her. The school had failed them, more like. She had the period talk in the fifth grade. But since then… all she had to do was some dumb assignment about chlamydia in the Human Development class she took last semester.

That wasn’t enough. Clearly.

And here she was—terrified.

Because, sure, she knew what it meant to do it. But only because of a healthy mix of Sex and the City (Anna knew she was a Carrie), Friends, and Anna Karenina. As a curious middle schooler, Anna learned more than she’d like to admit from Anna Karenina’s spicy affair with Vronksy.

But that suddenly felt all… abstract.

It was like she knew nothing. Nothing at all. In the backseat of Hans’s car, she was about to flunk out of doing it class.

The only shred of information that remained in her brain was her vision. Her perfect, wonderful vision of how she both imagined and desired it to happen.

She pictured herself sixteen or seventeen… on her birthday. One of her favorite days of the year. After some kind of wonderful birthday surprise party all planned perfectly by her boyfriend, the two of them would dash off to a swanky hotel, and when they would get to their wonderful suite, there would be rose petals scattered around the bed. They’d have bottles of some fancy champagne… oh—and some chocolate covered strawberries, of course.

But most importantly—boyfriend. She’d said boyfriend. Obviously. Because she imagined it happening with the boyfriend she loved with all of her heart.

That was just for it, though. The Big It.

For any of the other stuff—stuff they’d already done—she never had the same kind of perfect vision. So, it was easy enough to just… full steam ahead do all of it.

But not this it. Not the Big It.

So many parts of her vision were missing. She needed it to be special. She needed it to feel like the most intimate expression of love for another person possible.

Because…well—that’s exactly what it was to her.

So she couldn’t do it tonight. Not like this. But at the same time, she didn’t want to let him down.

She didn’t want to lose him…

“I don’t know,” was all she said.

“Well, why not? We’ve done everything else. What’s the difference?”

“I want it… to be special. And I’m only—I’m, like, young. Isn’t that bad?”

“No.”

But this didn’t comfort her very much. Because she was young.

Elsa would say that she was too young.

“You don’t think it’s bad? That I’m…” Anna gulped. She worried saying the word fourteen out loud would make him see her as immature and naïve. “You don’t think I’m gonna be bad?”

“No.” He kissed her, then, romantically. Anna relaxed a bit into the kiss. “You’re gonna be great.”

“Have you ever… um—have you done it before?”

“A couple times.”

She’d figured as much, and it made her nervous. Really, really nervous. In her vision of how this should play out, it was her first time and it was her loving, doting, wonderful boyfriend’s first time, too. There were no expectations. There were no comparisons.

Her mind flashed to Kristoff, eyes crinkled and mouth wide in that wonderful smile of his.

No. Don’t do that. Don’t do that, Anna.

She needed to shake herself clear of those thoughts. Of that visual…of that desire, maybe. If that’s what it was.

No. No. It was about Hans tonight. HansHansHans. His hotute nose and his beautiful green eyes.

She loved Hans. She wanted Hans in this way, yes. She did.

It was just…

“I think I want it to be special,” Anna said, her voice small.

“This is special, babe. Just you and me here in my car… loving each other.”

“No, no, no. I mean special special. Like… really romantic special. On a really big event or a really big milestone or something. I want it to mean a lot. And I’m not saying that I don’t want to do it with you because I really, really do want to—like…I want to, and my body wants to and… I just think I need to wait um… a little bit.”

“Okay,” Hans said, sighing. “We can wait.”

Anna’s heart soared. Now she just needed a new vision of how she wanted it to go down. She figured he wouldn’t want to wait that long and really neither did she. If she really wanted him to be her boyfriend and not her friend-with-benefits then she needed to double down. She couldn’t keep him waiting for too long.

But if she were worried about being too young… and if she were worried about what Elsa would say, and she wanted it to happen on her birthday, ideally. Then… she should just say it.

“My birthday.”

“What about it?”

“My birthday. We can do it on my birthday, okay? That’s… three months away,” Anna explained. In three months, she’d be fifteen. And fifteen seemed old enough.

Right?

Right. Fifteen felt right. Her birthday felt right. Elsa had to understand. And maybe Elsa would even be proud that she waited those three months instead of diving right in.

Shit did Anna want her sister to be proud of her.

She continued, “I know it’s awhile, but. It’s an important day and we can be together, and I think… I think that’s perfect. I think then it’ll be really special.”

And then… when it happened, she just knew he’d decide he wanted to be her boyfriend for real.

Hans nodded. “Okay. Deal. June 21st, right?”

And her heart leapt at the sheer fact that he remembered.

They made out some more. They got close, really close, to doing what he wanted, but they didn’t. He respected her wishes.

He respected her.

And when Hans dropped her off at home that night, Anna knew what she needed to do. It was late. Again. She always called Elsa so late. It was self-sabotage, really. Elsa’s world operated three hours later than Anna’s…

But she picked up the phone and dialed her sister’s number anyway.

Nothing but ring ring ring ring times infinity and then that condescending beep. Another beep… another message destined to be unanswered but not unheard.

Anna still couldn’t believe that stupid track meet had kept her away from Elsa’s once-in-a-blue-moon phone call.

“Um—Els. Hey. It’s me again. Your sister. Anna…” Anna shook her head. Elsa would recognize her voice. Duh. Anna always had to make everything so awkward. No wonder Elsa hardly ever called her back. “Um, anyway. I, uh—I’m so sorry I keep calling and I’m so sorry I keep leaving all these messages and I’m, like, the most sorry I missed your call Saturday—I wish I’d been home. I…I can’t even tell you how much I wish I’d been home…” She balled up her hands into tight fists and squeezed, hard, trying to keep a lid on all of her emotions. “It’s just—I really, really miss you and I have…” Anna knew what she wanted to tell Elsa, but she didn’t know quite how to frame it. She tried to squeeze her fists harder. “I, um—I did something. And I think…” But she couldn’t help it—her emotions had no lid. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she took a deep breath in a futile attempt to hide the trembling within her voice. “I think you’ll be really proud of me.”

#kristanna #fanfic #frozen

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