♥ Supernatural, Star Wars, Star Trek, Avengers, X-files, Sliders, Doctor Who, Merlin, Xmen, all the Stargate series, etc. I'm in a bowling league. I collect anything to do with cute aliens & some comics
De-aged batkids scenario where, during an ill-done mission, Dick tanks a hit from some malignant entity into turning into his early Robin self. An age where the family of some off 8 people was still just a family of 2 — just Bruce and Dick.
The kids are all shuffling back to the Batcave, determined that Bruce will know what to do.
And in any case, they just hoped seeing a familiar face will get young!Dick to calm down. The kid has tried to escape them 5 times, each one resulting on someone getting tazed/bitten/punched.
And another 4 times counted of young!Dick sobbing uncontrollably because these mean, bad people who took him from patrol early all have either his Robin symbol or his Tati's Batman symbol despite "not being cool enough for it"
"Just wait until my dad gets to you all 😠 You're gonna be so sorry!"
"Yeah yeah kid, shut your trap"
They get to the Batcave, and expect Dick to be ecstatic at the sight of Bruce.
Except... Dick starts crying in fear, refusing to believe that Bruce is actually his Bruce, his Batman, his Dad.
Dick immediately runs to a confused Alfred instead, who tries to calm the terrified kid and ask him what he meant by That's not Bruce!
"Master Dick, I can assure you, that is still your father. He is just some odd 20 years older since you last saw him in this form."
"No! No Alfie! That's not Bruce! Bruce doesn't look like... like a MONSTER!"
Dick is, eventually, ushered away by a very worried Alfred. Bruce is stunned, surrounded by the rest of his kids who also don't know what Dick was saying, except what did it matter? His eldest son, his baby, had just called him a monster.
He's so heartbroken that he also flees the scene, determined not to frighten more of his kids.
Oracle buzzes in and they explain what happened. She flushes and tries to bring clarity to the situation by pulling up photos of the version of Bruce that Dick grew up with, and the version of Bruce now.
Less scars. Smiles wider. Doesn't look as chronically exhausted. Glows with hope.
And when you look at his eyes, there's not even a hint of rage or grief in them.
They understood then, why Dick would find Bruce comparable to a monster. When you grew up with a version of a man that seems so angelic, it's hard to imagine him being anything but.
When Bruce finally allows Clark to watch Dick alone for the first time he’s absolutely ecstatic.
It’s the biggest show of trust Clark can imagine and he is so determined not to mess it up. He plans every second of their day, choosing all the best restaurants and activities in metropolis and when the morning dawns nice and sunny he decides to take Dick to the beach.
And they do have the best day, swimming and laying in the sun and getting way too much cotton candy ice cream that somehow manages to get everything Clark owns slightly sticky.
Only, by evening, Dick is exhausted, shivering and bundled up in blankets on Clark’s couch, his face looking more and more red.
And Clark is absolutely panicking thinking he somehow poisoned Dick and that Bruce will never trust him again because he just doesn’t have a lot of exposure to human illness since his parents always made sure he wasn’t put in a role to worry about that or take care of them as a kid.
When Dick doesn’t have normal symptoms but continues shivering and looks exhausted and red Clark calls Bruce near tears and is practically begging him to help and apologizing, hyperventilating in his bathroom while Dick is watching movies wrapped in every blanket Clark owns.
Bruce rushed to them in an absolute panic only to find Dick completely fine besides a particularly bad sunburn and a bit of a stomach ache from eating too much sugar.
Bruce is completely overwhelmed with relief and Clark is still panicking and he turns and looks at this all powerful alien on the verge of tears from thinking he hurt Dick and knows what a good friend he has.
Which does not save Clark the embarrassment of being informed that Dick’s potentially life threatening illness was a combination of sunburn, too much sugar, and normal tiredness after a long day.
For years after the league cannot make sense of Batman’s occasional comments about not forgetting sunscreen or the way they make Superman blush every time.
I have one of these and I keep it in my IT toolkit because that teeny little screwdriver is the right side for laptop casings, but because it lives inside a large object it’s harder to misplace than a standard tiny screwdriver. Also because the look on a client’s face when you bring out a brass hammer to fix their laptop is absolutely wild.
1. The Venezuelan government did hold a Military parade to commemorate Venezuela's Indepence on July 5th. That's merely eleven days after the earthquakes that devastated huge areas of Caracas, La Guaira, Aragua and Carabobo. And while they have been facing accusations of delaying aid by not deploying the Guardia Nacional, until days later.
2. The person who has been put in charge of the "Misión Renace Venezuela" is Jacqueline Farias. Back in 2006 she was given $103million for a clean up project on the Guaire river, she spent all the money and we are still waiting to be able to bathe in the river. She was, also, in charge of CANTV (a government own internet and phone services provided), Movilnet (a government owned cell services provider), and Hidrocapital (a government owned water company).
“Don’t fucking touch me!” He screamed, smacking away Bruce’s hand with vitriol and anger on his face.
So, Bruce does as he’s ordered. It’s the only thing he can give Jason.
It’s the only thing he’s really been good at.
There comes a point when you realize your children don’t want you around anymore. You’ve tried, to the best of your ability, to show affection in any way you can. But time and time again, you fail.
Over and over. How many times can you fail before everyone becomes sick of you? Does it matter what your intentions are? Does it matter how much you try? Does it matter that you feel your heart breaking every day, and it's your children who are doing the breaking?
There’s not a book out there on how to interact with your child who’s come back from the dead. Trust him, Bruce has searched tirelessly. How could he possibly continue to face the one child he failed irreparably?
So, mistake after mistake, Bruce watched their relationship crumble faster and faster until there was nothing but a thin rope holding them together. Bruce balances precariously on top, always on the verge of falling.
He just wanted to make sure Jason was okay. He had seen that thug land a pretty solid hit to Jason’s shoulder. He knows from experience the kind of radiating pain that could fuck you up for days.
He wanted to cup his cheek and examine the small cut under his eye. He wanted to poke at the bruises spotted on his torso to make sure nothing was broken. He wanted to squeeze his hands to make sure they were still working, that his blood was still pumping.
Somehow, someway, he messed up. He always messes up.
Bruce stands silently, alone, deep in thought, in the cave for a long time. Long after Jason had left. Long after the rest of his children had awkwardly filed out. Long after Alfred had given up on reaching him.
Everything used to be so good between them. But now…
Bruce resists reaching out and ruffling Jason’s hair as he passes by. Instead, he keeps his hand firmly by his side and gives a strained smile as he passes, not allowing his eyes to linger lest he embarrassingly breaks down in tears.
He squeezes Duke extra tight as the boy is going off to school in the morning, pushing away thoughts of younger Jason eagerly waiting by the door for his routine goodbye hug. That was a long time ago.
“You okay?” Duke, the kindest, most considerate boy in the world, asks as he hugs Bruce back just as tightly. “I’m here for you, you know. You don’t… You don’t gotta hold it all in. It’s unhealthy and stuff.”
Bruce couldn’t answer. He feels his throat close up and a pressure build behind his eyes. Instead, he nods and holds on a little longer.
Dick, who had stayed over late to get some advice on a case, is asleep, draped across the couch in his study. Bruce swooped in and covered his shoulders with a blanket. No, Bruce refuses to think of seeing Jason asleep in the library after binge-reading a book series. He tucks the blanket around him tighter, to keep out the cold Bruce keeps feeling.
“Goodnight Dickie.” Bruce pressed a kiss to his eldest’s forehead, smiling softly at the tired, mumbled words Dick replied with.
He sits and talks with Damian, having his son carefully explain his paintings and what they mean to him, all while gently squeezing his hands. He resolutely refuses to think of Jason passionately explaining his annotations and inferences in his novels.
“Baba.”
“Yes, Habibi?”
Damian hugged him around the neck, a very uncharacteristic gesture that made Bruce pause in his aimless wandering thoughts.
“What’s this for?”
Damian shrugged as he set his head down on Bruce’s shoulder, keeping his eyes forward. “I felt as though you required it. Richard told me that my hugs were healing.”
Bruce let out a small huff of laughter and started squeezing Damian’s hands again. “Well, Dick has always been correct about those kinds of things.”
When Jason comes over for the second time in a week, a rarity, Bruce makes sure to make himself scarce. He knows his limits. He won’t be able to keep it together. He doesn't want Jason to hate him more than he already does.
Bruce is ashamed that he can’t even give Jason a fake smile as he brushes past him in the hallway. Just a hoarse grunt before he rushes back to his room, like the coward he is. He's always been a coward.
At dinner, Jason opens his mouth like he wants to say something, and Bruce squeezes his eyes shut, prepared for an onslaught of insults and pointed words on all the ways he had failed Jason that week. Instead, he’s met with silence.
Instead, Jason stares at Bruce with a look he can’t figure out, but it makes his chest hurt nonetheless. He doesn't know if that's worse. When had he stopped being able to understand what his child meant with a single look?
Bruce quickly excuses himself from the rest of supper, the food turning to sand on his taste buds, and goes for a walk out back.
He turns his back on his parents’ graves, too ashamed of his incompetent parenting to face them. He takes step after step towards the woods, intent on getting himself lost before he has to go back and face the harsh reality that he made for himself.
—
“Bruce?”
He startles from his thoughts, blinking up at the night sky and the stars that wink hello at him.
“Jason…” Bruce grunts, his entire body going rigid as he feels his second-oldest son come closer, small twigs breaking under his steel-toed boots. “I was just heading back.”
There’s a small scoff. “Really? From the looks of it, you would have continued staring off into nothing.”
Bruce grimaces, unsure of what to say that wouldn’t set Jason off. If Jason were to yell at him… he might actually cry. If that happened, he'd lock himself away for a week to meditate and get a better hold on his emotions.
What a mortifying thought.
“Bruce-“ as Jason takes a step closer, Bruce takes one back, making sure to put an arm's length of space between them.
He has to make good on his order.
Jason simply looks at him, and from the position where Bruce is standing, most of his son’s face is obscured by shadow. Everything except the hard line of his mouth, his jaw clenched.
He can’t tell. He can’t tell if Jason has an impressed face for actually listening to him or is disappointed that Bruce still can’t take care of himself… he can’t even gather anything from Jason’s body language.
“Good night, Jason,” Bruce grunted, pushing down any emotion that he wanted to feel and turning on his heel, marching toward the mansion without a glance back.
—
“It’s good, right?” Jason grinned, rocking on his feet like he was a little kid again, and he was practically bouncing up and down. It was adorable. Jason would have his head if he said anything like that aloud.
Bruce nodded, finishing off the last lines of the essay Jason had written. Good was an understatement. Jason had always had a way with words. Bruce didn’t know what the essay was for; he doubted Jason would give him a straight answer if he asked, but he was proud nonetheless.
“The structure is impeccable, and I liked your verb usage in this paragraph,” Bruce commented. “While I believe you could have moved this sentence to the end of this paragraph rather than have it as your introduction for the next, it isn’t clunky, and it still flows in your writing style.”
Jason rolled his eyes, but the grin did not disappear from his face. “Yeah, yeah, that just means you loved it.”
Bruce couldn’t help the small chuckle that came out; he raised his hand to ruffle his hair, just like he had always done since he was just a little guy.
But then he remembered. He wasn’t supposed to do that anymore. Bruce’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air before Bruce coughed and lowered it, resolutely not looking at Jason’s face in case he was angry at the attempt.
“Thank you for showing me this, Jason.” Bruce kept his voice carefully monotone as he set the papers down on a nearby table. Handing it to him could accidentally lead to touching him, and Bruce couldn’t do that.
He no longer had that right.
“I have work I need to get done.” Bruce heard himself say, his own words sounding muffled in his ears as he turned and slowly walked away. “Goodbye, Jason.”
Rather than go to his study and pretend to try and focus on his WE paperwork for a few hours, Bruce heads upstairs to his bedroom. He needed to be unconscious immediately.
He thought he had a handle on this.
Sure, it hurt that he couldn’t give his kid affection, but if this is what Jason wanted, he would continue to try his best.
—
Bruce had gotten better. It was almost second nature for him to clasp his hands behind his back whenever Jason was in the room. Almost.
If Jason accidentally walked too close, Bruce would subtly move his body to avoid any point of contact. It was like a dance. One step closer, one step back.
But he had to touch someone.
“You don’t usually care for girl time, B.” Barbara mused, watching as Cass carefully did her best to paint her fingernails an understated green, then alternating to purple in a simple pattern.
Her wheelchair had been pushed into one of the corners of the clock tower and she was seated comfortably on a bright yellow pillow beside Bruce on the floor.
“I could.”
“You don’t like the feeling of nail polish.” Cass pointed out, looking up from her work to give him a flat stare. “But you let us do yours. You’re troubled.”
Bruce looked down at his black and dark blue painted nails, resisting the urge to pick at them till they were off and no longer touching him. “I can handle it…”
“You gotta figure out your shit, Bruce. I say this with love.” Babs lay her head on his shoulder, giggling and murmuring a soft apology to Cass as she glared at the older woman for moving her hands.
“In the meantime, we’ll cover for you,” Cass said, making Barbara hum in agreement.
“My girls… you’re too good to me.” Bruce closed his eyes and leaned against Barbara, smiling as Cass leaned against his outstretched leg.
“I think you deserve a lot of good things, Bruce. You just… gotta let them happen.”
—
“Are you and Jason… okay?” Tim asks him softly, his head tucked against his shoulder as they sat as close as possible on the couch in his study.
Tim’s laptop is off to the side, abandoned after hours working on a case that truly didn’t need as much focus as the two had given it.
Bruce takes a moment and tries to really think of the question. Are they?
He hasn’t given Jason any physical affection for around four weeks. An entire month. He’s surprised he’s lasted this long. But he can’t say it was due to self-restraint, more like deflection. Every time he felt the urge, he would just go to his other children.
He couldn’t tell if they were similarly getting tired of him and only indulging him due to the strange air surrounding him and their brother, or they truly didn’t notice, but Bruce couldn’t answer the question truthfully.
“Yes.” He says because he has to believe that Jason is happy with him, finally leaving him alone. He has to believe that he’s doing good for him for once in his life. He has to believe that this is for the best.
After years and years of letting him down and never being good enough, this is the one time he can truly fulfill a request by his second-oldest.
“Yes, Jason and I are fine.” He repeats, pulling Tim closer and burying his face in his soft, messy hair, trying to distract himself from the million thoughts of self-loathing and doubt racing around.
He couldn’t make this about himself. This was for Jason.
—
“This is the fifth time you’ve asked to braid my hair this week.” Stephanie hummed softly, keeping her head still in the exact position Bruce had gently guided it to one minute and 30 seconds ago.
“Is it?” Bruce made sure to keep his voice light, as if he weren’t painfully aware of the fact that he was annoying Stephanie with his own neediness. “I hadn’t realized.”
Steph hummed again, picking at the stray wool fraying from her dark purple socks. He had gotten them for her many years ago. He had also gotten her twenty other pairs, but these seemed to be her favorite. He'd like to think it was because it was the first thing he had ever gifted her. But that's just being willful.
The fact that she still wears them makes his heart clench painfully. He can’t help but wonder if Jason threw out everything that Bruce had once given him, just like he had thrown away his affection.
But that wasn't really fair, was it? No, Bruce can only blame himself in the end. Everything was his fault. Clearly, he had not been trying hard enough. Or maybe, he had been trying too hard? He always had a tough time figuring out which one it was. Gauging others' emotions was too hard.
Steph opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “Jason is an idiot. Despite wanting to seem cool and whatever, he’s easily guided by his emotions.” Steph curled a framing strand of hair around her finger. “Takes one to know one.”
Bruce hummed and tied the end of the complex braid with a transparent band and draped it over Stephanie’s shoulder.
“Cool.” She grinned, standing up to look at herself in the mirror.
“You should talk to him, you know.” Stephanie turned to him, trying to catch his eyes, but Bruce purposefully looked away. “It might help. You tend to take things too literally.”
“No… I don’t think it will.” Bruce chuckled. “It would make things worse.”
Stephanie shrugged before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Great, that’s exactly what he was trying to avoid.
—
“Fuck…” Batman growled, gritting his teeth, as he looked down at the pipe bomb, counting down. He had already disarmed two, and he didn’t know how many were left in the building.
A fire had already been set, which made it harder for him to search while time continued to tick away.
There wasn’t enough time.
“All civilians in the area have been evacuated to a safe distance away, aided by the GCPD.” Oracle crackled to life on his comms, giving him a wave of relief. “Get out of there, Batman. The structural integrity of the warehouse was already compromised before the fire; it's not gonna hold for much longer.”
“Already on it.” He grunted, turning to look behind him, but the hallways he had run through were swallowed up by erratic flames. He would have to find another way.
Batman took off running, eyes scanning everything at once, looking for the perfect way to escape the warehouse. He jumped, kicking off a nearby wall that soon crumbled under his foot, and successfully climbed his way onto the third floor.
“Hey, old man!”
Batman jolted, his head snapping around to see Red Hood running at him. If his respirator wasn’t covering his mouth, his jaw would drop open in surprise.
“Red Hood?” He questioned. “Oracle, why didn’t you inform me Red Hood was here?” Instead of an answer, his comms crackled. Fuck, they were officially cut off from Barbara’s reach. He had been meaning to update his comms to handle more intense heat. It was now at the top of his list.
“Hey, old man, I followed you in. Knowing you, you would get killed trying to save this place.” Red Hood snarked.
“Now isn’t the time for this, Hood. We need to find a way out of here.” Batman growled. Later, when he could take off the cowl, he would try and talk to Jason about his decision on running in after him. He would try and hover till Jason would inevitably snap and push him away.
But at least he would know that he was safe.
The two took off running in the only direction that they could, the flames building faster and faster. While running, Batman continued to try and contact Oracle again, but there was no luck.
“Batman, this place is gonna-“A flaming piece of concrete broke from the caving roof and fell directly onto Red Hood.
Onto Jason.
He was no longer Batman, no, he was Bruce. And his son was in danger.
“Jason!” Bruce yelled, darting back and ripping the debris from his son, watching in horror as a strained, malfunctioning robotic noise came from the helmet.
Bruce’s hands automatically found the hidden release hatch that Jason had thankfully shared with him and ripped off the broken thing. He didn't bother checking to see where it landed. Jason was the most important thing in this moment.
Bruce’s hands hovered, so close to touching, but-
Jason coughed and shook his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine! The debris just knocked my respirator out of the loop.” Jason groaned, covering his mouth and coughing again. Bruce would bet money that if he took off Jason’s domino mask, his eyes would already be watering.
Bruce untied his respirator and pushed it toward his son. “Take it.” He ordered, ignoring the glare sent his way.
“Fuck no, I don’t need it. This smoke doesn’t mean anything.” Jason swatted at Bruce’s hands, an unexpected action that caused the respirator to fall into the flaming sea on the lower floors. “Oops…”
Bruce restrained himself from sighing or doing anything that could take up more oxygen and allow him to inhale more smoke. “Hurry, let’s get out of here.” He wanted to help Jason up, but instead, he focused on finding an escape from this death trap.
“Bruce! Over-“ a loud explosion shook the building, and more debris rained down on them. That wasn’t the pipe bomb he was looking at before, no, it was somewhere on the opposite side.
“Jason, we need-“ another explosion, a completely different place from the one that just happened. The building moaned and swayed as if it were crying out in pain.
Fuck, staggering pipe bomb explosions. The majority of this warehouse would go down in a second if a strong enough breeze came along. But Bruce knew this layout; Gotham had a million of these warehouses built by the same company. There was always one place that would stay standing while the rest of the building fell.
“Move, move, move!” Bruce yelled, screaming at Jason to pick up the pace as he felt the metal walkway underneath them tremble and grow hotter. “Left! Get up there! Press yourself against the wall!”
Bruce watched Jason leap into the one place he knew he would be safe. He was so close, just a few more steps and a leap, and they would both be safe.
Another explosion.
So close. Too close.
Bruce felt a blow on the right side of his body, a searing pain as shrapnel embedded itself into his side. Fuck, a pipe bomb hidden underneath the walkway. It was so obvious and yet, in a panic, he had missed it. His armor was useless against the sharp metal pieces that flew at him from so close in proximity.
Bruce didn’t flail as his body was smashed through a crumbling piece of the wall; he didn’t panic as the only thing he could do was grip onto the railings of the walkway as his body dangled in mid-air. He was Batman. He had been in the position alone a million and one times. He would find a way out.
He did, however, feel his breath catch as he watched his son desperately try and inch over to him, rather than stay safe like he wanted him to.
“Fuck! Jason, go back!” Bruce groaned, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be as he strained to keep himself up. His side throbbed in time with the flames that danced and rose higher and higher. “Get back now!”
“Dad! Dad!” Jason cried out. Once again, Bruce’s breath stuttered. “Dad, are you okay! I’m coming!”
“No! No baby, go back!” Bruce screamed, gritting his teeth, and he felt blood start to pool inside his suit. “It’s not safe!”
Jason's movements were frantic and wild, as if he weren't really there. Obviously, no matter what Jason tried to claim, an exploding building would have an effect on him. Bruce distantly wondered what Jason was really seeing. Was it him, or his mother?
The warehouse shook again, not an explosion this time, but he still didn’t know how many were left and still able to work. It was breaking apart; he could hear the wall underneath him crumbling away and falling into the harbor.
Another explosion.
The railings creaked under his weight before giving. Bruce’s eyes widened as he was suddenly weightless, his stomach dropping and bile rising in his throat.
“Dad! Grab my hand!” Jason screamed, the sound ripping from his throat sounding raw and terrified. His hand was stretched so far, and Bruce reached up, a millimeter away from reaching him. From being saved, rescued.
Blinding fear zipped up Bruce’s spine. He couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t.
Bruce ripped his hand away just as Jason was about to grasp him, pulling it close to his chest and curling in on himself. Time seemed to stop as he stared, shocked that his body moved on its own.
In the last second before he felt his free fall, Bruce looked at his son. His sweet baby boy, whom he loved, lost, and somehow gained back. His son, who had grown into a strong man who was now even taller than he was, who didn’t need Dad to protect him anymore. Who didn’t need him at all.
Jason’s mouth was open like he was screaming at him, but over the roar of the inferno surrounding them and the shock from the explosion earlier, all Bruce could hear was an incessant ring that drowned out any other sound.
Jason’s arm was still outstretched, his hand holding nothing but air as Bruce slipped away from him.
And then, he was falling.
When Bruce hit the water, he felt an intense, sharp pain radiating to every point in his body. He felt as though he had smashed into a thick layer of concrete, but that was to be expected, falling into still water from 40 feet in the air. He could feel his nerves alight, and he couldn’t do anything but go limp.
There was nothing he could do. That wasn’t the scariest part. Neither was his slow sinking, nor the way his vision was blacking out, nor the debris from the blown-up warehouse battering against his broken body, nor even the way his body moved from searing, blind hot pain to all-consuming cold.
No, it was his mind clouding in pain, causing his thoughts to drift away into nothingness as the dirty Gotham harbor water filled his lungs, suffocating him.
‘I really want a hug…’ Bruce couldn’t help the last coherent thought from drifting through his mind before he closed his eyes.
—
The next thing he knows, he’s in the cave, hooked up to various machines, trying their best to keep him stable, to keep him alive. The beeping and the whirring hammering into his skull, the sound almost too much for him.
Faint, blurry memories of being pulled from the harbor and having his ribs broken by chest compression surface fleetingly before disappearing in the corners of his mind.
Bruce could always examine them later if he got the chance; there was no way he could forget. A curse brought to him by a photographic memory.
There was nothing Bruce could feel that didn’t ache. He was sure that if he wasn’t hooked up on so many medications and wasn’t so out of it, there would be other areas that hurt as well. The consequences of hitting the nasty Gotham water with only burning rubble pieces around him to break his fall were apparent.
When he finally cracked his eyes open, he winced softly at the harsh white light in the cave’s medical room.
“Dad, thank fuck! You had me so fucking scared, pops! Y-you wouldn’t wake up…!” A voice sobs out in relief. It’s Jason. Jason is at his bedside. Jason, his little boy who had grown up and seen Bruce for who he really was and hated him, was here. For him.
“J-Jay…” Bruce rattles, looking at the exhausted face of his second eldest. He looked so tired.
Jason mumbled something, his voice hoarse and desperate as tears streaked down his cheeks.
He wanted to reach up and wipe away those tears, to fight away whoever made Jason cry, but Bruce was fighting a losing battle trying to move his body in the way he wanted.
“I’m sorry…” Bruce's voice cracked painfully as he tried his best to squeeze Jason’s hand. He’s gotten so big. Before, Bruce could almost perfectly hold both of Jason’s hands in one of his own; now they’re basically the same size.
“I… I know you don’t like it.” Bruce coughed, trying to suck in more oxygen from the breathing mask. “P-please… let me hold your hand…”
Just his hand. That’s all Bruce needs. He doesn’t want to be greedy.
Bruce thinks he hears Jason sob. “D-dad… I’m so fucking sorry… It’s my fault! I don’t know why I said that. I was being stupid! Hug me, ruffle my hair, tousle with me, just don’t fucking leave!” Jason clutched his hand tightly and continued to babble more apologies, but Bruce could no longer hear him.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce murmured again, the world buzzing around him, a soft hum that weighed on his bones and made him feel exhausted. It was a strong pull to get him to close his eyes. “I know… You hate it. I’m so f-fucking sorry…”
“Dad-!”
“One… one last time… please… please…” Bruce begged, his voice a faint whisper, the light in the room growing brighter, but strangely it didn’t hurt. No, nothing hurts anymore.
Too bad Jason would hate him for having the audacity to touch him. Being hurt wouldn’t be an excuse good enough for Jason. He was lucky he wasn't getting yelled at right then. Alfred must have persuaded him to not yell in the med bay.
Bruce tried to squeeze Jason’s hand one last time, but it fell limp. He was too tired. He was just glad to be able to touch his son again, even if it wasn’t the hug he had longed for.
Bruce closed his eyes and went to sleep. It was so quiet.
Guhhhhh thinking about Bruce being a Superman fanboy hehe. He has like five bajillion figures and some posters and plushies and stuff. He won't let Clark into his bedroom for forever even after they start dating and Clark thinks it's just one of Bruce's Things about vulnerability but actually he's just really embarrassed.
I think Bruce would have a huge (life-size maybe but also maybe not, just... Big enough to do this) plush of Superman that he'd cuddle with at night. And he totally kisses it and pretends he's being held by the REAL Superman hehe. He fantasizes about getting saved by Superman and getting kissed and held and laying back in bed all shaky while his savior hovers over him, praising him and making him all teary-eyed and shaky without even doing anything.
And once he and Clark get close it only gets worse, like he is sooooo daydreaming about this it's like a thing. He's obsessed. Also he kinda hates himself for it because he thinks he's a creep or a predator or whatever because of his stupid "hopeless" celebrity crush and the fact that he's being parasocial over his best friend XD. But Clark thinks it's cute once he finds out and is all for fulfilling Bruce's various fantasies <3
Some Democrats think the party has gone too far left and needs to readjust towards the “center.” Rubbish. Where’s the center between democracy and oligarchy, and why would Democrats want to be there?
People who work within a system: okay so studies show that the normal system works 90% of the time, but because it’s very bad when it doesn’t work, we’ve set up a process to manage those outliers. We need six well-trained workers to run the system 100% of the time without any serious incidents.
CEOs and politicians, every time: Well i just saw it go right twice in a row which means the normal system which you say works 90% of the time actually works 100% of the time. We’re cutting the team down to one person pulling 18 hour shifts without breaks
Gotham Public Library, just as dusty and water damaged as it’d always been.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Jason always had his nose in a book.
But it hadn’t always been that way.
He can barely remember it; that time in his life was fuzzy and faded and just barely there. Gotham summers never had much sun: they traded it for humidity and an unfortunate amount of crime. And, in a sad, one bedroom rundown apartment in Crime Alley, young Jason and his mother did anything they could to escape the heat of their home without putting themselves in harm's way.
And home it was. Back then, it had felt normal. Just him and his mom against the world.
Trips to the Gotham Public Library were a common occurrence in the Todd household. Not only was it air conditioned, but there was a time where the library held public book readings for the local kids. This was quickly put to rest, however, as it became an easy target for the many, many criminals Gotham housed.
But the few summers it happened, Jason was always present, eyes glued, enthralled by the tales of knights and princesses and dragons and kingdoms. Soon, he got bored. Those stories were the same thing, over and over again. With his mother catching up on much needed sleep in an uncomfortable looking chair, Jason would slip away.
He did this a lot. His mom was always so tired. She needed a doctor, but they couldn’t afford it. Sleep would have to do. There wasn’t much else either of them could do, anyway.
He wandered the shelves without much purpose until someone took notice. A short, frail librarian with glasses far too big for her face and forever sliding down her nose.
“Young man.”
Bracing for a scolding, Jason quickly stuck his hands to his sides, trying to seem as small as he could manage. Folding in on himself, he’d look up at her through his black lashes.
“Do you need some help?”
“No, ma’am. Just… Just looking.” He’d mutter, kicking his foot at the stained carpet. She snorted. Startled, he’d glance up and see a small smile stretched on the woman’s face. All the wrinkles of her skin fell into place, and he could tell that this was someone who’d spent many years laughing and smiling. A small, sheepish smile of his own crept onto his lips without his say so, and he relaxed. Just a bit, but more than he ever did in the presence of anyone other than his mom.
“Actually,” He backtracked. “I do.”
The rest was history, as cliche as that sounds.
The woman, Susan, was a widowed librarian who’d worked at the library longer than Jason had been alive. She’d walked him through the steps of getting a library card.
“What’s your address, dear?” Her fingers clacked on the old keyboard, the desktop an unsightly, chunky box. “And I’ll need a guardian’s signature.”
After rattling off his address (And he saw that wince, Susan. Nice try hiding that. His apartment was just fine, thanks), Jason winced. His mom really needed that sleep, and he did not want to be the one to wake her up. If he did, she’d be grumpy all day.
He’d be grumpy if he was in constant pain, too. Sleep was her only escape. He just wished that it didn’t have to be so often… He missed having his mom around. It felt like he’d lost her to it long before he actually did.
Studying Jason’s face, Susan tutted and turned towards the old computer, once again clacking away at the keyboard.
“Just this once, boy,” She peered at him over the rims of her glasses. “I get you this card, and you make sure you stay out of trouble, deal?”
Jason’s cheeks hurt from how hard he was grinning. “Right, lady. I promise, no trouble here.”
“Don’t lose it,” Susan warned, squinting at him. “I won’t be able to get you a new one for a while yet.”
Jason puffed out his chest.
“I won’t, I won’t, promise.” He crossed his heart with his finger.
Narrowing her eyes at him, Susan sighed. Standing, she rounded the desk and knelt down in front of Jason, a soft smile on her face.
“Let’s go find you a book, okay?”
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Susan became routine. And, for Jason, that was something dangerously close to family. She helped him with any words he got stuck on, and she always had interesting questions to ask him regarding what book he had just finished.
He was never bored at the library. Day after day, he followed Susan around like a lost chick, blabbering on and on about whatever book she’d recommended, and did she know that there was another book in the series?
Learning the library’s system of sorting was fun, in its own way. The sorting itself was boring, but he loved it for a different reason.
It was nice to know he wasn’t alone.
Susan led him around, showing him what went where and why, while his mom rested in a nearby seating area. Every now and again, Jason would peek over and make sure she was alright. Susan quickly went from “ma’am!” to “Susan, that book SUCKS. What were you thinking–”
And, at 4:00, like clockwork, he’d go wake his mom and they’d quickly make the trek home, heads down and hands free, just in case.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
And then his mom got worse.
It started with her sleeping even more than usual. Not enough for him to be truly concerned, but enough for him to notice. She’d sleep, and sleep, and sleep, and, before he knew it, Jason’s mom was no longer bringing him to the library.
That wasn’t enough to stop him, of course. What ten year old boy doesn’t get up to mischief when his mom isn’t paying attention?
After checking, perhaps pointlessly, that his mom was still asleep, Jason would slip out of their apartment window and onto the rickety fire escape. Stepping carefully over any broken, sharp pieces of metal, Jason made the careful trek to the library, ducking under awnings and behind trash cans at the sound of any voices. He’d grown up here, and he knew he really shouldn’t be out and about by himself, regardless of how bright it was outside. The thick smog of Gotham blocked out the sun, anyway, so he had some modicum of darkness to work with.
Finally, with his heart beating a mile a minute, Jason had made it to the concrete steps of the library.
He’d continued to sneak out, over and over, until eventually he’d stopped checking if his mom was sleeping. She always was.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Getting home after the library closed like usual, Jason made the treacherous climb up the fire escape and slipped into their apartment like he always did. Voices down the hall made him pause.
“Cat, you gotta pay me what you owe,” A man sighed, voice scratchy and low. “The big man ain’t gonna be happy with you if you keep buyin’ without payin’.”
“I know,” The drowsy voice of his mother responded, hesitant. “Can’t this wait? My son is home, I don’t want him hearing this.”
The man and his mother continued to speak, but Jason couldn’t hear them.
His mom was using again? But… She’d promised, promised that she would stay clean for him. So she could be there. Everything was closing in and it felt like Jason was underwater.
Before he knew it, rational thought returned, and he found himself on the steps of the library. He didn’t know how he got there. He didn’t dwell on it for too long.
He knew he should go home. But, if he took a few wrong turns on his way, that was no one’s business but his own.
His days continued like this. A routine he didn’t like.
He’d find her used needles. She’d be dead to the world. And he felt like everything was underwater.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
“You look tired, Jason.”
“Stayed up reading.”
Susan never believed him.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not books. Not tomorrow.
His mom spent all her time sleeping or talking to the various strange men who would appear at their door. They’d apparently figured something out, some kind of deal.
He didn’t listen as the men followed his mother into her bedroom.
And, like everything does, it soon ended.
When the cops found his mother’s body, every visible vein blown, Jason was nowhere to be found.
No one cared enough to look.
The world kept moving, anyway.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The library was the last thing on his mind.
But what about Susan? A traitorous part of him whispered. She’s probably worried about you. Heard about your mom, could only assume the worst.
She’d wonder where you went. It paused. Or, at least where your body is.
Jason had better things to think about. Like a place to sleep, or clean water to drink. He’d grown up here, sure, but he wasn’t used to being a street kid.
The other street kids didn’t make it easier. Every hideout was already claimed and every trashcan already dug through.
Without noticing, Jason turned eleven.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
This would be his big break, he thought, tire iron in hand. Who wouldn’t pay big bucks for a wheel from THE Batman’s car? And, y'know, that’s on him for being dumb enough to leave it unattended. At least he’s not stealing it.
Before he knew it, he had the whole goddamn tire off. He thinks he might’ve seen the other street kids staring in awe. Yeah, that shows you to look down on Jason Todd.
A shadow fell above him, and Jason slowly turned, stomach dropping.
Uh oh.
Batman had come back for his car. And the tire Jason had been rolling.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Jason didn’t really want to think about his time living with Bruce.
It hadn’t ended well, after all.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
So here he was, on the steps of the library. It’d been… God, almost 14 years.
He’d never been so hesitant in his life. But, it was his life, and he couldn’t avoid it forever.
it was the smell that he’d noticed first. Of course, it hadn’t changed.
Then, the front desk. And finally, the person sat there.
It wasn’t Susan.
Though he’d expected it, nothing could’ve stopped the tightness in his chest. Instead of Susan, there sat Barbara Gordon, wheelchair and all.
Glancing up, her green eyes met his.
“You!” She pointed. “Stay right where you are.”
After such ominous words, Barbara quickly wheeled off.
Stunned, Jason didn’t move.
Before long, She’d returned, with a small glass dish sat in her lap. Reaching forward, she set the dish onto the desk, facing him.
On it was a small label, yellowed and worn with time.
For Jason, it read.
I’m getting older, and my legs aren’t what they used to be. If I’m not around, feel free to take one.
Inside the dish sat several folded slips of paper.
I’ve written all of my favorites here. You still need a good companion in my absence, and what better than a book?
Barbara looked away, pretending to busy herself with the computer.
Turning around, Jason cleared his throat, wiped his face (It was sweat, goddammit), and rolled his shoulders.
Grabbing something out of his pocket, Jason slid it across the desk.
“Will…” His voice caught. “Will I need this renewed?”
The faded library card sat innocently on the desk, a young boy with a toothy smile and a crooked nose beside the name Jason Todd.
bucktommy different meeting and sloow burn AU where after Tommy transfers to Harbor and comes out to his old and new team, he starts getting invited to the official and unofficial queer LAFD hang outs
And he starts taking a yearly trip to Fire Island with a group of people (he doesn’t know if he’ll ever quite be as confident in his own skin as most of the group is, but he likes who he is around them so he joins them)
Evan is back—or still?—on the east coast, and his current work consists of bartending and driving a tiki boat around Fire Island, the one the LAFD always rents for a few hours on their first day out there (Casey booked it the first time thinking that a few hours of private partying on the water would loosen Tommy up enough to enjoy the rest of the trip and he was right).
Evan is the epitome of young, dumb, and incredibly hung and Tommy has an instant crush on him. He's gorgeous and funny and has legs for days...how could Tommy not? Evan always makes their ride a good time and Tommy is not dumb enough to think Evan is flirting with him for real, but it makes him feel good anyway (and of course he always tips Evan really well).
The next year, Tommy's surprised but delighted that Evan lights up when he sees him and he remembers Tommy's name (he must meet hundreds if not thousands of people every year!) and when they're parked on the water, and Evan sees Tommy open a book (Ready To Catch Him Should He Fall by Neil Bartlett), he asks Tommy to tell him about it (he's helplessly endeared that Tommy is reading while his friends are partying around him). Tommy half-jokes that Evan doesn't need to be so nice to him, Tommy's going to tip him anyway; Evan gets an adorably confused look on his face--he really does just want to talk to Tommy--which Tommy finds way too adorable. Evan listens to Tommy talk about it and then to Tommy read aloud to him as he mixes drinks.
The 3rd year, Tommy finds out everyone has been making bets on when Tommy is going to finally sleep with Evan. Tommy is flattered they think that would ever happen, denies that it ever would, and ignores the eyerolls and honey, pleases he gets in response.
Yes, him and Evan are friendly enough once a year, but he's not going to chase someone he's paying to be around (and who has no easy escape if it makes him uncomfortable) and who he's not even sure is queer.
[Evan has no such reservations about being chased and he's slept with plenty of people he's met while captaining the boat--including a few memorable bachelorette parties that happened while he was on the job. And while he never pursued men, he wasn't opposed to being pursued by them and hey, sometimes they were just too hot to turn down]
Unfortunately, despite the attraction being mutual--though neither of them can seem to pick up on that--they're at an impasse, neither of them pursuing the other.
Year 4, Tommy brings someone he's sort of been seeing and Evan doesn't understand why it feels like such a slight (Tommy's still friendly, he still tips him the same) or why he's so irritated at finally knowing Tommy's type (and why he stays up until 2 am that night looking up exercises to get fit like a firefighter)
Year 5 is Evan's last year with the tiki boat, though he doesn't tell Tommy or any of his friends (he tells himself it won't make a difference to any of them even though they've had some good times together). Part of him also doesn't want to be asked the question of what's next for him because the answer is the fire academy and he doesn't want to look like a creep for taking up the same line of work as Tommy (it's just that after his 2 am research binge went from workouts to the actual work of firefighting, Evan knew it was right for him. And he was already licensed to captain a boat, so he had options).
He'll miss Tommy and his friends though and he's a bit maudlin about it, though he tries not to let it show; from the weird looks Tommy keeps cutting his way, he's not sure he does a good job.
The next year, somebody new is captaining the boat. Tommy tries not to be disappointed. The insane betting pool somehow made it up to $1,000 and it feels like a kick in the gut when his friends give it to him. He's determined to have fun on the trip anyway and his friends are determined to get him laid and maybe it's time he listens to them.
They go out dancing that first night and it starts how it always starts--them dancing in a big group for several songs until they start pairing off in 2s and 3s. Tommy's dancing with Casey until he places a big wet kiss on Tommy's cheek and spins him around and pushes him towards the center of the dance floor and--Tommy swears the crowd parts and on the other side is Evan.
Their eyes meet and Tommy's mouth goes dry. It's only been a year, but it feels like both yesterday and forever. He still looks like Evan, just bigger--bulkier. A more confident presence, which Tommy would have thought impossible. They close the distance between them, eyes never leaving each other.
Tommy's not sure who reaches out first, but suddenly Evan's hand is in his.
Evan tilts his head and smiles. "So, I've figured out some things."
Tommy isn't quite sure what that means, but he'd bet $1,000 they have time for him to hear all about it. Later. "Is one of those things that you want to dance with me?"
Evan laughs and Tommy aches with how much he missed the sound. Evan nods and pulls Tommy closer and they don't stop dancing all night (except to kiss and sneak off to a back room).
The next year, Tommy hardly sees his friends the whole trip--too busy helping Evan pack up his apartment (he doesn't have much but they spend more time catching up than they do anything else).
The year after that, Evan makes the trip from LA to Fire Island for the first time with his boyfriend, Tommy, and their friends
They keep up the tradition for a long, long time (only stopping when they eventually retire and move to the east coast).
Buck (who lives on the east coast) and Tommy (who lives in LA) are cosplayers who meet at a con and become friends (except there is a disgusting amount of long-distance pining) and only get to see each other once a year at this con and slowly a relationship develops (it’s a slooooow burn 🫠) and eventually they become like thee it couple and one year, one of them proposes to the other at the con
I hope this is what you were asking for. Ive never been to San Diego Comicon, so I'm drawing my experience from Anime North and FanExpo in Cananda. Also, timeline, what timeline. Shhhhhh.
1) Buck's first foray into conventions was sort of as a joke, sort of because his girlfriend was really into it. She wanted to dress up as the main couple from some RPG video game Buck has never heard of, and Buck just wants an excuse to spend more time with her. So, instead of spending all of his tuition money on keggers and a motorcycle, he saves up for tickets to San Diego comic con. Between the flight, the passes and the hotel there isn’t a lot of money for the costume, and he wants to save a little to go check out the San Diego Zoo. Buck goes online for costume inspiration, and pieces something together that he's pretty sure works. He's not 100% certain about his sewing skills, but he thinks he looks pretty good as he checks himself out in his bedroom mirror. His parents are just happy he's keeping out of trouble, and his girlfriend seems nice.
2) She's not very nice when she sees what he's made for a costume that first day. Apparently, without telling him, she'd expected him to dress up as a specific version of a character from one scene, and his whole look ruins everything. She kicks him out of the hotel room, and breaks up with him on the first day of the con. There's no where else to go, and no other rooms available in the area, so Buck explores the convention, and figures he'll find some late night events or screenings, and maybe he can just get a bit of sleep while he's around. After exhausting everything he wants to see, he's sitting forlorn on a bench at the convention center trying to decide next steps. He's interrupted in his moping by a black woman with glasses and a buzz cut asking "What has [character name] looking so forlorn?" Buck takes in the group she's with and realizes they're all cosplaying characters from the same game. Some are also wearing hi-vis vests declaring them medics or security for the event. Apparently they all work together in LA, they come volunteer for the con every year (ignore the nightmare of scheduling shifts). They take Buck under their wing, and offer him space in the room they're sharing. It's just floor space, but Buck’s had worse. One of the bigger guys of the group, who introduces himself as Tommy, offers up his spot on the bed, but Buck refuses to put him out. Instead he sleeps between the bed and the wall on Tommy's side. When Tomny gets up early the next morning to do whatever he coaxes Buck to take his spot on the bed to get a bit more rest. Buck falls asleep surrounded by Tommy's scent, and if Buck doesnt have thoughts about it…
3) Buck befriends the group. There's Sal, who's cousin is involved in organizing SD Comicon, which is how they got involved in the ops. Hen and Chimeny are paramedics in real life, and have a weird spot of psychic communication that makes him think of siblings, which makes him think of Maddie. Tommy's the mystery - he's a firefighter and has been working the longest of the four of them. Buck finds out he flew helicopters in the army, and he used to do costuming when he was in high-school for the drama club. He makes a joke about it impressing the girls, but it falls a little flat. Buck makes some inane comment about being an ally, and somehow it gets Tommy smiling at him. By the end of the con, Buck's got all of their numbers, has gotten his trip.tp.the zoo, and he's gotten some tips for constructing his costume for next year. He's strangely reluctant to leave the group, but they get him to the airport in time for his flight home. He's seated next to his ex girlfriend, so the flight is awkward, but he has an email from Tommy with all of the photos the group had taken together during the con when he lands in PA.
4) He kind of loses touch with the group in the months that follow - to be expected when a bunch of 30 somethings take a 20 year old kid under their wing. Tommy keep responding to him, though. He get's the update that Hen got married and adopted a kid, that Tommy's taken up flying again, and thay the group is doing a League of Legends group cosplay for next year's con - would Buck like to join them. Buck jumps at the chance, and spends hours on Skype with Tommy going over character choice, and getting tips on building his costume. He finishes another year of college, major still undeclared, and the bulk of his free time chatting with his friend across the country.
5) Buck has even more fun at the con this year. Hen comes with her wife (an actual rocket scientist) and their baby, both in costume, and Buck gets a glimpse at the future and wonders if thats something he could have. He couldn't tell you why he looks at Tommy when he's having that thought. Sal's come with his girlfriend, Gina, who isn't in costume, but is just as feisty as he is and seems to be really enjoying herself. Buck, now legally able to drink, spends a lot of time hanging out with Tommy and Chimney, where he gets to hear about their work, how Chimney saved Tommy's life, and gets bombarded with movie quotes and trivia that pass way over his head. He ends up sharing a bed with Tommy this time, and if they end up tangled up in each other a little when they wake up, well, that doesnt mean anything. Buck leaves San Diego this time with a list of movies to watch and plans to meet up with the group again in a year.
6) They plan another group costume, Buck buys himself an old singer sewing machine second hand. The thing weighs more than a cinderblock, but it works like a dream with a little maintenance and oil. Tommy helps him again with building his costume, but they also spend time together on Skype watching movies and and falling asleep together over computer screens. Buck wakes up a few times with the video chat still running, Tommy's chin tucked into his chest, snoring softly. Buck doesnt acknowledge what the feelings in his chest mean.
7) The groups costumes are even better this year. Denny is a year older, still insisting be be carried by his moms. Gina is wearing a bit of a costume this year, and sporting a sparkling engagement ring. Chimney’s brought a date, and while this woman isnt as excited to be at the con as Gina was last year, they look good together, and that seems to be important to Chimney. Buck and Tommy spend a lot of time together, and on one memorable occasion, they go to a late screening of a new movie, and Buck falls asleep with his head on Tommy's shoulder. When he wakes up, Tommy's eying him with the softest expression, and Buck doesnt know what to make of the feelings. Buck's reluctant to get back on the plane to go home.
8) Buck has one last year of college where he's getting an associates degree in firescience. He and Tommy keep up their regular Skype calls, and after complaining late one night about a new fire captain at the station, Tommy quietly admits to Buck that he's gay. He searches the screen for any response from Buck, but Buck is at a loss for words. He doesn't know how to answer, because he's not gay, but he definitely feels something for Tommy and he doesn’tknow how to admit it, and also doesn't want to take a chance and ruin the most important friendship in his life. He thanks Tommy for telling him, and spouts off some BS about being an ally, and things get a little awkward between them.
9) Things are strained between Buck and Tommy at the con that year, but the group itself is going strong. They enter and win a masquerade, and and people are starting to recognize them from previous years. Buck gets stopped with the group, or on his own for pictures with fans, and it's a blast, but Buck can’t figure out how to makes things right with Tommy. Eventually, on the last night, Buck screws up the courage and drags Tommy aside to tell him he's not sure what he's ready for but he's ready for something with Tommy. They only get around to kissing that night, but they're going to give long distance a shot.
10) Long distance is hard, because of Tommy's shifts, and the fact that Buck joins the Pittsburgh fire department and is dealing with shifts of his own. Tommy comes to visit him when he has 4 days off, but they spend most of the time getting to know each other intimately. They plan a couple's costume fir the group costume for comicon, and Tommy's going to use the chance to come out to his friends.
11) The group plan falls apart. Sal gets transferred, Chimney is too busy with a new girlfriend, and Karen has a big project at work. Buck and Tommy goon their own, and while people lament the absence of their group, they quickly establish themselves as the It couple of the con. They can hardly walk more than 10 feet without being stopped for pictures. Buck loves the attention, and Tommy seems to grow taller by the minute living as his authentic self. On the last night, Tommy books a helicopter ride and takes Buck up to see the city. They talk about their plans for the future - Tommy's going to apply for air ops, and wonders if Buck would be interested in looking into the LAFD.
12) The work to transfer to the LAFD is long, and the wait is unbearable. When it's finally approved, Buck finds out he's going to be Tommy's replacement at the 118. They don't tell Hen and Chimney, wanting to surprise them. Buck doesnt have a lot of belongings, so he can fit everything into one extra suitcase and fly to LA. Tommy's waiting for him at LAX, and they drive to their home together. Captain Nash greets him warmly when he arrives for his first shift, Chimney nearly jump scares, and Hen wraps him in a warm hug. They explain to Nash how they all know each other, then Buck invites them to a BBQ where they get to meet Tommy as his significant other.
13) The go to comicon again together in group costume, the whole gang (+Maddie who's made her way to LA). They do the masquerade, and as part of the skit, Buck surprises Tommy by getting down on one knee and proposing. Normally Buck would hate a public proposal, but Tommy loves the romcom shit, so he says yes, scoops Buck up in his arms, and kisses him in a way that is nearly indecent. They earn a lot of catcalls, but only take second place because one of the judges thinks it was a little over the top.
14) They get married at comicon the next year, with Bobby officiating.
All of Bruce's kids have come out to him as some form of homosexual that when it comes to Duke, Bruce just assumes he's queer and is too scared to tell him for some reason.
Sure, literally everyone in this family, including Bruce, are publically out it's still normal to be afraid to come out and Bruce thinks he just needs an extra push.
He starts asking Duke things about his love life, starts saying shit like "I'm always here for you, you know that right?" and even resorts to dumbass shit like leaving little rainbow flags in places he knows Duke will find them.
Duke is freaking out.
Duke: guys, Bruce is acting really strange.
Jason: he's always acting strange. It's Bruce.
Duke: yeah but like extra strange
Tim: strange how?
Duke: idk man he's like, being strangely supportive. Like in a creepy way. And he keeps asking if I have a "lover" and what my type is. It's really weirdly invasive and I don't know what to do
Everyone:
Jason, starts laughing hysterically:
Dick: Duke-
Tim: oh my god.
Dick: Duke he-
Steph, wheezing: holy shit
Dick: Duke he thinks your gay and he's trying to see if you'll come out to him
Duke: but I'm not gay ????
Jason, still laughing: I think he just assumes any kid around him is some form of gay at this point
Damian: I suppose none of us are heterosexuals
So, Duke has to sit Bruce down and break the news that he is straight and exclusively likes girls. Bruce is surprised, thanks him for telling him and now says shit like "I know it's hard but we can get through this"
The kids love it.
Jason, who is still laughing: you had to come out to Bruce as STRAIGHT. This is the best day ever!
Bruce Wayne, the man who had stared down gods and monsters without flinching, felt the distinct and terrifying sensation of being outmaneuvered in his own home. The cacophony of barks, meows, and the rustling of bedding was a more effective psychological attack than any Scarecrow toxin. He watched, dumbfounded, as his family—his chaotic, brilliant, and utterly maddening family—mobilized around his ten-year-old son’s impromptu animal relocation program.
Barbara Gordon, ever the pragmatist, was already wheeling herself toward the Batcomputer’s secondary terminal in the study, her fingers flying across a holoscreen she’d pulled up. “Okay, Red Robin’s algorithms for tracking city-wide power grids can be modified to track adoption rates, veterinary needs, and shelter capacities along the Eastern Seaboard. I’ll need to create a secure, non-criminal database for potential adopters. Damian, I’ll need your ‘vetting’ files.”
Damian, cradling a trio of squeaking Chihuahua puppies, nodded imperiously. “I will have them sent to you. Do not disappoint me, Gordon.”
Bruce opened his mouth to protest the use of Justice League-level technology for a canine census, but the words died in his throat. What was the alternative?
Jason Todd was leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, a wide, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “So let me get this straight. The big, bad Bat is being taken down by the SPCA. I love it.” He pushed off the frame and cracked his knuckles. “But yeah, demon brat, I know a few guys who know a few guys who run those sick puppy mills out in the Bowery. We’ll pay ‘em a visit. Artemis?”
The Amazon hefted her axe onto her shoulder. “A hunt for cowards who harm the helpless? It is a worthy quest.” Bizarro, carefully stroking a geriatric greyhound with one massive finger, looked up.
“Bizarro will not smash?” he asked, his voice a hopeful rumble.
“No smashing,” Jason said, clapping him on the back. “Just… persuasive talking.”
As Jason’s crew vanished back into the secret passage, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. He was officially sanctioning vigilante action against illegal dog breeders. The Justice League charter definitely did not cover this.
Duke Thomas, with the newborn puppy now cuddled safely in the crook of his neck, was organizing a feeding line with military precision, directing a wide-eyed Cassandra, who was somehow holding six bottles of formula at once. Stephanie Brown was on the floor, Sir Reggie the three-legged cat already purring in her lap as she fitted him with a tiny, wheeled harness she’d apparently engineered from spare parts in her belt.
“Look, B! He’s a tripod! Get it? Tripod!” she beamed.
Bruce could only groan. The puns had started. It was truly over.
It was then that a new sound cut through the din: the familiar, heavy thud of boots from the direction of the Cave. A moment later, Clark Kent, still in his Superman suit, emerged into the library, a look of mild panic on his face.
“Bruce, I’m sorry to just drop in, but have you seen Jon? He missed dinner and Lois is—whoa.” Clark stopped dead, his sentence evaporating as he took in the scene. His eyes scanned the room: Dick trying to find a quiet corner for a comatose Tim, Duke and Cass bottle-feeding a dozen squirming puppies, Damian holding court from a throne of kibble bags, and Alfred calmly preparing a tea tray as if the manor hosted a petting zoo twice a week.
Clark’s gaze finally landed on Bruce. “Is… everything alright?”
“Kal-El!” Damian announced, commandeering the conversation. “Your son has been an adequate, if emotionally volatile, asset. He is currently conducting aerial reconnaissance to identify the most ethically run no-kill shelters in a tri-state area for the next transfer.”
Clark blinked slowly. “He’s… what?”
“He’s finding homes for the dogs, Clark,” Bruce translated, his voice flat and drained of all emotion. “Damian emptied a shelter in Texas.”
“Several shelters,” Damian corrected. “The term ’emptied’ is imprecise. We prioritized the most vulnerable: the elderly, the infirm, the mothers with newborns, and those on the proverbial ‘list’. It was a tactical extraction.”
Clark’s expression shifted from confusion to dawning understanding, then to something soft and unbearably proud. A smile touched his lips. “He… he did that?”
“He fainted during a live birth at thirty thousand feet,” Damian supplied helpfully.
“He did that,” Clark repeated, his voice full of wonder. He looked at Bruce. “And you’re… helping?”
Bruce was saved from answering by the distant thwip of a grapple and the subsequent sound of a window opening on the second floor. A moment later, Jon Kent floated down into the grand room, landing gently beside his father. He was slightly grubby, had a few stray hairs on his suit, and was beaming with exhilaration.
“Dad! You’ll never believe it! We rescued so many! And I found a home for a whole litter of beagle mixes in Keystone City! The lady cried, she was so happy! And Lucy is amazing, she and Krypto are playing tag!” He finally noticed the room’s other occupants and Bruce’s thunderous expression. His excitement dimmed slightly. “Uh. Hi, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce looked from Clark’s paternal pride to Jon’s hopeful, grimy face, to Damian’s defiant posture, and finally to the rest of his children, who had all stopped to watch the showdown. He saw Stephanie protectively holding Sir Reggie, saw Cass gently nuzzling a kitten, saw Dick’s hand resting protectively on Tim’s shoulder even in sleep.
He saw the whole, ridiculous, impossible picture.
He had wished for Damian to develop empathy. He hadn’t specified a scale. This was, unequivocally, his fault.
With a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, Bruce Wayne surrendered.
“Alfred,” he said, his voice weary but clear.
“Yes, sir?”
“Cancel my appointments for the week. And call the company that installed the hanger bay doors. Tell them we need to install the largest, most efficient doggy door in human history.”
A slow smile spread across Alfred’s face. “Very good, sir.”
A chorus of cheers, barks, and meows erupted. Jon whooped and flew a loop-the-loop in the high ceiling. Damian’s stern composure broke for a single, fleeting second, revealing a sliver of triumphant joy.
As Clark clapped a hand on his shoulder, Bruce finally accepted the aspirin bottle from Alfred. He dry-swallowed two pills.
“You know,” Clark said softly, his eyes twinkling. “For a man who’s just been defeated, you look like you won something pretty great.”
Bruce watched as Damian, for the first time all night, stopped giving orders and simply sat on the floor, letting a brave, one-eared terrier mix climb into his lap. The boy’s hand came up, hesitant at first, then sure, to stroke the dog’s head.
Bruce looked at his son, then at the chaotic, living evidence of his capacity for compassion, and gave a single, slow nod.
“Don’t push it, Clark.” But for the first time that night, the headache began to recede.
ten year old Tim Drake having a minor phase of liking archeology bcs of his parents so he starts digging shit up in his garden, but because he’s Tim Fucking Drake he does it too well and accidentally unearths one of the tunnels that connects to the fucking batcave.
ten year old Tim Drake who already knew who Batman and Robin were, finding out he now has a secret tunnel in his garden connecting his house to their lair, and he’s just like ‘fuck yeah that’s cool.’ and starts exploring.
thirteen year old Jason Todd bored and fucking around alone in the batcave system when he comes across a fucking ten year old who knows his identity, clearly idolises the hell out of him, and is just kinda wandering around the cave system alone and completely chill about it. they see a super dangerous spider and Tim just starts info-dumping on the species. when asked if he has a curfew to go back home by he goes ‘uh, July i guess? that’s when mom and dad get back.’ it is early February.
thirteen year old Jason Todd who takes a minute and then goes ‘ok this is funny as fuck i promise i won’t snitch to Bruce.’
Jason Todd and Tim Drake being secret cave buddies. Jason Todd and Tim Drake hanging out in the tunnels and making fun of Batman and Nightwing from the shadows. Tim Drake who has to buy a whole new set of night-vision camera lenses for his new photo album that’s just photos and selfies of him and his new best friend Robin fucking around in the underground pitch-dark.
Jason Todd who dies, gets revived, is told by Talia that Tim Drake has ‘replaced him’ unknowing they’re already friends, and Jason who all he can think of is that time they played hide and seek in the cave system and Tim clung to the fucking ceiling via a stalactite for 45 minutes straight. Jason Todd who just looks at Talia and goes ‘yeah sounds about right for him.’
Jason Todd being told he has to deliver Damian to Bruce and he decides ‘absolutely the fuck not’ to the idea of even touching the front door. they have a Ring camera he is not getting caught on that bullshit.
Jason Todd who just goes to Drake Manor and uses Tim’s old entrance to get into the tunnels, his home away from home, dragging Damian along, until he gets to a spot where he can secretly signal into the batcave for Tim to sneak the fuck away.
fifteen year old Tim Drake who gets called into the tunnels to find the Red Hood, unmasked as Jason, presenting to him a random child which he declares to be the son of Batman.
fifteen year old Tim Drake who comes full circle and says ‘ok this is funny as fuck i promise i won’t snitch to Bruce.’
the cave boys are reunited. a third is added to the club. a new photo album is filled. when Tim brings Damian up through the tunnels into the cave he looks Bruce dead in the eyes and says fully straight-faced ‘this is your cave son. i found him wandering, he was born from the shadows of the bat.’
eleven year old Damian Al Ghul-Wayne who’s spent the past three and a half years under Jason Todd’s influence and sombrely declares ‘the cave birthed me for you, father. i am darkness. i am your child.’
