TAKE ME TO YOUR BEST FRIEND'S HOUSE
Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x fem! reader.
Summary: So, he might be going against "bro code". He can't help it, though; his best friend's sibling is just too cute.
A/N: Reader can be imagined as biological/adopted/found family.
DICK GRAYSON & WALLY WEST
How Dick hadn't learnt to not leave his phone unattended was beyond Wally, especially when, for a vigilante, the man had such lax security for his personal phone. Nor should he have ever trusted Wally with the password.
Already drafting his absolute PR nightmare tweet on Dick's account, he's mentally rubbing his evil little hands together when his thumb hits the banner notification that pops up on the top of the screen.
My Heart: Thinking about you, come home soon xo
Alongside the text is a photo, a very suggestive photo of a woman dressed in nothing but one of Dick's hoodies. Wally knows because he bought Dick that hoodie, he's also very familiar with the woman in the photo on account of it being his baby sister.
He shrieks, the phone slipping from his slack with shock grip and landing on his big toe.
He doesn't hear the ringtone over his sudden stream of pained expletives, hopping on one foot, until he hears your voice from the speaker.
"Hey babe! You left your hoodie at - "
"YOU!" Wally screams, blubbering incoherently, pointing an accusing finger at the phone like you can see him.
"Jesus Christ," he can practically see you recoiling away from your phone, "Wally?" You've heard enough of your brother's meltdowns over the years that you can recognise him from just a single word.
"YOU, YOU - YOU HARLOT!" You snort at his words, staying silent until his stream of consciousness is finished.
"You done?" You hum, completely unphased at the tantrum Wally's just thrown for the past seven minutes.
"Am I, am I done? No, I'm not done." He squawks, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!" There's a beat of incredulous silence on your end.
"Excuse me? What have I done to you?"
"DEFILED THE SACRED BOND OF BROTHERHOOD IS WHAT YOU'VE DONE, HE'S MY BEST FRIEND"
"The sacred bond of brotherhood? I'm your fucking sibling, you're supposed to attack him, not me!" Wally can't help but notice how you don't deny his words.
"Oh, believe me, Dickhead is gonna get what's coming to him."
"Yeah, whatever, I'm hanging up now, tell Dick I'm getting pizza for dinner."
"Don't you dare - " He doesn't even get to finish his sentence before you've followed through.
"Hey Wally, have you seen my ... phone?" Dick trails off as he spots the item he's looking for in his agitated friend's hand.
"You don’t fuck your best friends younger sibling. That’s like the number one rule of bro code!” Wally shrieked, not greeting him like a normal person, and not giving Dick even a second to realise what was happening before he was being grabbed and shaken by his shoulders.
"I love her." No explanation, no apologies, just pure earnestness and the softest look Wally had ever seen on his friend's face.
The declaration takes all the wind out of his sails, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He drags a hand down his face slowly,
Finally, he groaned and dragged both hands down his face. "Ugh. I hate that you’re so genuine. It ruins my ability to stay mad. Barry's not going to be happy you kept this from him though."
The mental image of the Flash going protective uncle giving him the slightest bit of sick satisfaction, until Dick shatters his dreams by casually saying, "he already knows."
"He what?! Am I the last to know?" Dick makes a show of thinking about it before shrugging with an unapologetic grin.
"Kinda, yeah."
"I'M SURROUNDED BY TRAITORS!" Wally yells, sinking to his knees in defeat.
JASON TODD & ROY HARPER
Nobody had ever accused Roy of being a detective. He might not be as smart as the bats (an impossible hurdle in Roy's opinion), but he wasn't completely fucking stupid.
An unfortunate reality for his sister, who he'd caught sneaking into the Titans Tower at the ripe time of 4:47 am, wearing a familiar leather jacket with a bullet hole in the sleeve. A jacket that could only mean one of two things.
You had joined a biker gang.
You were dating Jason Todd, AKA, his best friend, AKA dead fucking meat.
Because while option one terrified him, he'd still prefer it to the option he had a sinking suspicion about was actually correct.
The next afternoon, he finds Jason working out in the Tower's gym, and he grins wickedly. Bastard didn't even have to make Roy track him down.
"Hey, Roy." Jason greets, never once faltering in his reps, entirely unbothered, like he hadn’t committed emotional treason.
Roy thinks he could be forgiven for his following action, he could have done a lot worse than picking up the nearest kettlebell and throwing it at his unsuspecting friend.
"WHAT THE FUCK ROY?" Jason screeched as he dove for cover.
"YOU’RE DATING MY SISTER?!"
"Um, what?" He squeaks, before clearing his throat, "I mean... I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't try to gaslight me!" Roy jabbed a finger at him, seething. "You're supposed to be my best friend, and you went and... and started... canoodling my sister."
Jason’s brows shot up in amusement despite himself. "Canoodling?"
"Don't try and deflect either." Roy flushed as red as his hair.
"I’m not—well. Okay. I am. But in my defense, it wasn’t like I planned to fall for your sister."
"Have you kissed?"
Jason contemplates lying but bites the bullet and nods.
Roy gasped like an old lady hearing someone say cunt. "ON PURPOSE?!"
Jason gave him a flat look. "No, Roy, I tripped and fell. Of course, it was on purpose. More than once, too." He smirks, unable to stop himself from prodding the bear.
Roy spasms.
"Ok, let's not make this weird." Jason huffs.
"Make this weird? It's already weird, we're neck deep in it, NAY!, We're drowning in it!"
"Oh dear god," Jason sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and speaking before he can think better of it, "I love her."
Roy chokes, Jason startles, clearly surprising, even himself, "Oh my god, I love her."
There's a heavy, pained silence before Roy croaks "... Bro"
"I know." Jason tugged at the roots of his hair.
"…BRO." Roy was trying to prevent a panic attack, his panic fuelling Jason's.
"I know."
"You love me?" A slightly giddy voice breathes from the doorway.
Both men groan for different reasons as they spot you bouncing toward them.
"Babe, I -"
"I love you too," you beam, throwing your arms around Jason's neck and kissing him like your life depends on it.
Roy gags, forcing you to pull away. "God, this is gonna ruin every group hang for the rest of my life." He whined.
"Nah. You’ll get used to me kissing your sister in front of you."
"I SWEAR TO GOD —"
TIM DRAKE & CONNER KENT
Conner's knee is jiggling furiously. From across the room, Cassie raises a questioning brow, but Conner makes no effort to stop as he checks the time for the fourth time in less than three minutes.
You're late. So is Tim, but it's not him Conner's worried about. You're never late; you've always been a perpetually early person, and you always get so anxious if you aren't. Conner knows, having been on the receiving end of your time-anxious meltdowns more than once.
"Dude, calm down, they're not even five minutes late yet," Bart says, looking at him as if he's the weird one here, when clearly, something terrible has happened to you.
You've been in a car accident (you don't drive), you've been shot, (you're bulletproof), you've been taken hostage by Lex Luthor (plausible), you've -
"Hi guys, sorry I’m late, I slept through my alarm." You laugh bashfully, avoiding Conner's gaze, which narrows in suspicion.
"That never happens." He scowls, his enhanced hearing picking up the slight stutter in your heartbeat.
"Well, it did today." You rolled your eyes, crossing the room to sit next to Cassie.
Barely two minutes later, a harried-looking Tim scurries through the door, brushing his sweaty hair from his face, and in doing so, accidentally reveals a hickey just beneath the neckline of his shirt.
It's only for a second, but that one second is all he needs to connect the dots.
"No." He says, glaring at Tim as everyone else, including you, watches in confusion.
"No?" Tim repeats.
"NO!" Conner snarls, jumping up from his seat and pulling down the neckline of Tim's shirt to display not one, but three love bites.
"YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH MY SISTER?!"
"Technically, there wasn't much sleeping involved - " Tim mutters, with absolutely zero regard for his well-being.
"I trusted you with my life, and you go behind my back to DEFLOWER MY INNOCENT BABY SISTER?!"
"You're the same age?" Tim mumbles at the same time you scoff.
"Deflower? Innocent? Are we living in the Middle Ages? Are you my owner?"
"Stay out of this!" Conner whirls on you, his gaze dangerously red.
"Stay out of my own sex life?" You guffaw, ignoring the way Conner puffs up like an angry cat. "Besides, Tim's hardly my first."
Your words are enough to shock your brother enough that he drops Tim, reeling back with a hand on his chest like he's suffering a heart attack.
You take the opportunity to scoop your partner into your arms, flying away before Kon can recover, until you reach the safety of the bed you've both only just left.
"I think he's actually going to kill me." Tim mumbles, burying his face in your chest.
"Hmm, guess you''ll just have to keep me around forever, for protection."
"Sounds perfect." Tim dreamily says, clutching you even tighter in contentment.
BRUCE WAYNE & CLARK KENT
Once, there would have been a time when interviewing Gotham’s Bruce Wayne would have left him an anxious wreck, but now, Clark relished in the opportunity. Giddy that his best friend, no matter how much the man denied it, would turn to him (him! A Metropolis interloper), instead of someone like that tart Vicki Vale.
(That thought has him mentally apologising to his ma for his crudeness, but what she wouldn't know, couldn't hurt her.)
Needless to say, Clark was excited to have been given the chance, and he refused to squander it.
They were in Bruce's "office," a room they both knew he hardly ever even stepped foot inside, but had occupied to keep up the facade.
A brilliant facade it was, Clark thought in amusement, as he watched Brucie Wayne ramble on earnestly. Nobody would ever suspect the man, reaching for his wallet to pull out a picture of his kids in an interview on Wayne Enterprises' newest ventures, to be the fearsome Batman.
Clark, ever affable, just smiles, nodding along until a second picture flutters onto the desk. Bruce freezes, his perfected mask slipping just a fraction, but enough for Clark to notice as the unshakeable man's eyes widen in sheer panic.
Bruce was composed. He was always in control, a master of self-control. Bruce was unflappable, he had a plan for everything.
Bruce, evidently, did not have a plan, beyond freezing in horror, for when an intimate Polaroid of his girlfriend, Clark's sister, landed face up on the table between them.
You're wearing one of his button-up shirts, seated sideways across Bruce's lap, the man's large hand clasped over your thigh, as you stare up at him like he's your whole world.
Clark paused, staring at the photo on the desk like it was a live grenade.
Bruce, very carefully, snuck a hand out to retrieve it. Only to be thwarted by Clark's superspeed. He holds it between his thumb and his index finger like it might bite him, the blinding grin never once fading from his face.
Bruce thinks it's the most terrifying Clark has ever looked.
There's a long pause, with Bruce mentally calculating how long it will take before he has some Kryptonite on his hands and whetehr or not Clark will flatten him before then.
"Oh my god," Clark said.
Bruce grimaced. "It's not what it looks like."
"It looks like you're dating my sister."
"Ok, it's exactly what it looks like, but—" He cuts off once more as Clark speaks with surprising giddiness.
"You carry her around in your wallet. Like a real boyfriend, it's sickeningly sweet."
Bruce opened his mouth, closing it and opening it again repeatedly like a stunned fish as he blushed a brilliant red.
Clark wasn’t finished; if anything, he looked like Christmas had come early.
"Is there more?" Bruce stiffens, "There is! Do you have a shrine? I bet you have a shrine!"
"Clark."
"Is it in the batcave?"
"Clark."
"What about a scrapbook? Is she on the manor walls yet?"
"Clark."
"Do your kids know? Wait, am I the last to know?!" He seemed genuinely hurt by that thought.
Bruce looked up at the ceiling like it could save him from the confrontation; he thinks he'd rather fight than... whatever the hell, it is Clark's doing.
