Demon twins AU, but instead of the standard set up of both being trained to be assassins/Ra's ordering Danny killed set-up, the Demon Head took one look at the twins and decided that one would succeed him as Demon Head, but the other would follow after his earlier path of life. The life of a healer.
So Danyal is raised gentler, away from the killing. He knows about it, but his education is in the healing arts instead. Which maybe gets him a little favoritism from his family, and a lot of protectiveness.
Obviously something still happens to rip him away from them (assassination attempt gets him dipped into the Pit and he doesn't resurface?) and to the Fentons. Amity being in a different universe would keep him from just going home until ghost shenanigans sends him back to his original universe.
Meanwhile, Ra's absolutely razes whatever group killed his gentle grandson to the ground scorched earth style and the whole League's in mourning for years, during which time Damian's sent to Bruce.
And then a decade or so later, there's a wounded man appearing in Gotham with a very familiar face. Ghost fight or GIW attack, because I like good parents!Jack and Maddie better than the alternative. And Bruce is in for one hell of a custody battle.
Scene I pictured purely based on playlist vibes on my drive home from work. Does it really have a plot? No. Do I care? No. Could be a prompt? Mostly just silliness.
JL doing their normal scans about and spot a glowing green dome on the moon. Which appears to be cast over a… wedding reception? Bunch of people, some more human than others, apparently just having a good time. Some of the space friendly heroes go to check it out and also get a better look with video feed being sent back to the Watchtower. They get spotted and invited in, can evidently just go through the dome and there's air and heat inside.
Constantine happens to be there (in the tower, not the reception) and freaks out when he sees some things on the feed. First, Realms ghosts, so many of them. Second, his fucking American cousin Jack Fenton. Has whoever confirm his name and yep. Thought Jack didn't like ghosts? While he's cursing back in the tower, Danny hears him over the hero's earpiece (hello super ghost hearing) and comes over to ask if that's 'Uncle John.'
Whiiich makes John freak more. A) Danny's a ghost, B) he's wearing the fucking crown of fire. His cousin's youngest is the ghost king. And an impulsive ghost king, because he immediately opens a portal to the tower and pulls John through, calling out to the others than they can come too, because obviously they're Uncle John's friends.
Everlasting trio wedding, but flipped so Tuck and Danny went down the isle with their dads instead of Sam. Whose parents weren't invited. But Granny Ida was. Jack absolutely cried loud ugly tears of joy.
If Clockwork's there (performed the ceremony?), he has to say hello to Diana and introduce her to her cousin because he adopted Danny as a grandson and no one can tell him no.
Why are they having the wedding reception on the moon? Why not?
It's that time of year again and I couldn't find a prompt list that I was dead set on, so I made my own. If you want to use this prompt, go ahead! Use one from each day, or all three, go wild!
Text version under cut
overstimulation | knotting | hunter & prey
blindfolding | ownership marks | altar sex
quiet sex | size difference | sleepy sex
remote control | messy sex | somnophilia
bondage | cock warming | size kink
pool sex | double penetration | ovi
possessive sex | hair pulling | rough sex
hate sex | biting | submission to a god
priest kink | tit fucking | sex while hiding (closet, under desk, etc)
Demon twins summoning concept. Your basic cult captures some of the JL to use as sacrifices to summon the Ghost King. But the ritual they use requires a host to be offered up to him, and only a host that he resonates with will do. So there are multiple summoning circles drawn, one for each candidate, while the ones thought unsuitable are tied up and left to the side for him to devour or whatnot.
The older members of the Batclan are obvious picks. Bruce, Dick, Jason. Duke's chosen for his powers. Damian's considered too young to be well suited, and the girls are disregarded because of course the king would want a male form. Whichever other League members you want could also be either in a circle or shoved to the side.
The ritual kicks off, the circles flare up, and the temperature in the room absolutely plummets. The Ghost King's matched with a host.
But no one in the circles is any different. The cultists freak out, the heroes are stressing. And then Damian stands up. Eyes green but not like normal. Bright, toxic green. And he's not in a summoning circle. There's no spells containing him.
Because what body would he resonate best with than the one he shared a womb with?
Danny's been High King for years now. More than half his life. His parents? Reformed. His arch nemesis? Retired. The GIW? Still there, but not much of a threat anymore. Until someone got a lucky shot with a brand new, and extra nasty weapon that left Danny fighting not to just retreat into his core.
Good thing Frostbite told him about a way to condense himself to save energy and heal. Sure, making himself shrink is a little weird, but as long as it gets the job done, right? A quick portal jump and he'll be home and can just rest and relax until he's strong enough to go back to normal.
...Maybe he jumped a little too far. Because he's never heard of this Gotham place, and who the heck is Batman? Wait, they've got superheros here?! (And they're cute. Oh no.)
---
"Master Damian, I do hope that you are not planning on hiding that in your bedroom," Alfred said as he gathered away the dinner plates. Without turning around to look at the young man, he could tell that Damian had tensed up in response to being caught tucking a bit of his dinner into a napkin and into his pocket.
"It does not matter if I am or not," Damian said stiffly. He met Alfred's stare straight on when the butler turned around to face him. "Better for it not to go to waste."
"It will not go to waste by being put away in the refrigerator," Alfred countered mildly. He glanced the boy over, an eyebrow raised. But Damian was most certainly Master Bruce's son with the way he stood firm and stubborn. "Very well. But I had better not see any crumbs in the bedding."
Damian lifted his chin, only just not leveling a glare at him. Good, he'd learned. "I will deliver my own linens to laundry this week. Please do not enter my chambers until I request otherwise."
"Very well. Fresh articles will be left outside the door, in that case."
The boy was hiding something from him. Which, quite frankly, often did not bode well: whether because he had attached himself to a case beyond his present capabilities and did not want to appear weak, or had snuck in a new animal that they would need to house once he was too attached to allow rehoming. When Damian merely gave him a sharp nod as though he'd gotten the exact reaction he'd expected, Alfred held back a sigh. If it was the latter case, he could only hope that it was not something that would endanger their secret houseguest.
Thinking on him, Alfred reminded himself to check on the box of new breakfast bars he'd left open in order to see if any were missing. Figuring out what the small man might like to eat without being able to speak to him was quite the challenge.
Dinner put away and dishes finished up, Alfred made a point of keeping his steps loud enough to be heard but stopping shy of stomping his feet as he walked to the pantry so his guest would have time to hide if he was out in the open. He would come out when and if he was ready. And, as expected, neither hide nor hair of the young man was visible when the old butler stepped inside and switched on the light. He took his time 'checking' the supply levels of multiple other things before turning his attention to the box of bars, murmuring about shopping lists and expiration dates. When he did get to the open box, he had to frown. It didn't look like it'd been touched at all, despite being 'accidentally' left open on its side to make access as easy as possible. Had Alfred been too obvious about it?
Or had something else happened? He couldn't forget about the bandages, after all.
Alfred moved closer to the corner where the young man's camp was hidden, sharp ears listening for movement. Breathing. Any signs of life hidden behind the cereal box. But there was only silence.
Making a quick judgement call, Alfred reached to move the box. Hopefully, the young man was either asleep or had gone looking for supplies while the family was busy with dinner. In the worst case scenario... Well. He would do what he could for him.
There was no one in the camp. The towel bed was empty, the cup of water beside it, the pile of napkins... But something about it all made his frown deepen. He had had the chance to get a peek the day before, after spotting the young man in the hall, so knowing he would not be in the kitchen to catch him. And while he hadn't taken any pictures, the scene in front of him appeared unchanged. Completely.
Had he been seen checking on the camp, scaring the young man away? Or had something- All at once, his very recent encounter with Master Damian was placed in a new light. He'd wondered if the boy had been keeping a new animal hidden in his room, hadn't he? What if it were not an animal at all, but a very small, very vulnerable young man? For all of his preference for appearing to be cold and menacing, Master Damian had a well documented weakness for small creatures who needed his help.
He did hope that his youngest grandson hadn't frightened their guest too much.
And, if he was correct on his suspicions, then that solved the issue of not being able to ask about the young man's preferences quite well, didn't it? And he would be able to be much more direct with his aid. In fact, Alfred had just the idea to make things more comfortable for their guest.
On his normal rotation of chores, Alfred had been tidying the attic not that long ago. There wasn't much tidying to do, of course, but it did refresh his memory on certain items stored up there. Including an abandoned project Madame Martha had been working on once upon a time. She'd taken up a fascination with Mrs. Fances Glessner Lee's crime scene Nutshells for a time, recreating several of them. Most were on display as replicas in the Gotham Crime Museum, but the last of the set had gone unfinished when other responsibilities took over. A tragedy worth sighing over once, but an opportunity now.
Because as it was, the Madame had finished the main structure of the miniature room and much of the furnishings, but had not gotten to the point of adding the simulated murder scenes yet. And since no one in the household had ever collected dollhouses, the Nutshell was as close to one as they had on hand.
Removing the protective cover, Alfred inspected it carefully for spider webs or other signs of pests having gotten to it, nodding with satisfaction when none were found. Good. He slid the cover back into place for easier transport and carried it carefully down the steps.
As fortune would have it, Master Damian was walking past the attic stairs entrance when Alfred shouldered the door open, the boy stepping in to help hold it open.
"Thank you, Master Damian," Alfred said, glancing him over. It was silly to think that he might have their guest on his person, but it was worth checking.
"What is that?" the boy asked, glancing at the case in Alfred's arms. The butler could tell the moment that Damian noticed the room inside, his eyes immediately sharpening.
"An old project from the attic," Alfred said honestly, turning it in his arms to show him. "I thought that it may be of use."
Posture closing up, Damian eyed him suspiciously. "For whom?"
Alfred smiled, his head tilting in the direction of the boy's bedroom. Where else would he be hiding the young man? "For a mutual guest, who may be in a difficult situation."
Damian's eyes narrowed as suspicion became confirmation before he nodded his head at least, just a fraction. "It may come in handy."
"I am glad to hear. Would Master Damian permit me to make the delivery? I have been unable to properly welcome him to the manor so far, and I do hate to be remiss in my duties," Alfred said, making it clear that he absolutely did not intend harm on their guest.
After debating with himself for a minute, Damian delivered another nod and turned on his heel to head back towards his bedroom. It was clear that while Alfred would be allowed in, he would not be allowed in alone.
-
Danny laid stretched out on his side, tucked up against one giant pillow, and keeping an eye on his feline babysitter. Damn cat had barely left the room since bringing him here, and only when his master was there to take his shift. Okay, to do his homework, read, and generally use his own bedroom, but he was also keeping an eye on Danny. That much was so very much obvious.
But, eh, the kid had also been nice. He'd made a bed for Danny last night that'd been a whole lot more comfortable than the folded up towel in the kitchen, and scrounged up a thimble for him to drink from. Nicer than using his hands. Danny still wasn't relaxed enough to let him do anything with his bandages like the kid wanted to, but he'd still made the offer. And Danny had gotten his first hot meal in a while at dinner. Vegan too. He was gonna have to introduce him to Sam once he got back to normal. They'd get along great.
So put it all together, along with the fact that he didn't want to jump down from the bed and still couldn't fly, and Danny found that it was probably more trouble than it was worth to try and run away at the moment. And to top it all off... He'd tried to phase through the pillow to move further from the cat after Damian had left for school that morning, and now even that was making him ache, feeling like he'd tried to push himself through a cheese grater. Which, what the hell! He'd had to fight not to phase when he'd first died!
Maybe he really should let someone look him over, like the shade had said. But who in the world was he going to go to? He doubted Damian was a secret MD.
The fact that he'd barely gotten much sleep the night before, too busy staying awake in case Damian decided a cage was a better bed for him than a pillow, was quickly catching up to the ghost, and Danny found himself struggling to keep his eyes open without anything more concrete than a dozing cat to focus on. Maybe he could nap just a minute or two?
Of course, Fenton luck meant that the moment he closed his eyes, the door opened and two sets of giant goodsteps entered.
Alarm shot through his veins and Danny sat up abruptly with a hiss as his body protested. But that wasn't important. Damian was back, and he wasn't alone. The old butler stood behind him with a large box in his arms, and both of them were looking directly at him.
Of course he'd been right. Damian had told people and here was the cage they were bringing for him!
"Danyal, lay back down immediately," Damian snapped, seeing him stumble backwards on the soft surface of the bed, the preteen stepping forward and reaching a hand toward him.
Which, oh hell no. Danny shot him a glare and pressed himself back against the pillows, the furthest he could get away from the approaching giants. There was no way that he was going to just lay down and let himself be stuck in a cage of any kind. And if he had to throw hands with a giant twelve-year-old to stay free, then he was going to throw hands with a giant twelve-year-old. It didn't stop him from roughhousing with his daughter, after all. Ellie'd been twelve until she actually caught up to that age. And some of their fights were absolutely legendary. More to the point, he would throw hands with anyone to keep on the outside of a cage.
"Master Damian, I believe you're frightening him," the butler said softly. He set down the box, turning it around to show Danny the clear side.
The ghost had to blink. That was a room. It was practically a studio apartment. And from the looks of it, it was to his scale. Which? Highly suspicious. Especially by the fact that it looked like it must have taken ages to make.
Of course, none of that meant it wasn't a cage, considering it was surrounded by walls, clear or otherwise. But then the butler, Alfred if he remembered, lifted off the case, leaving the font and the ceiling completely open.
"We don't mean to trap you, young man," Alfred said, and Danny couldn't help but think his smile was... warm. And a little too knowing. He was reminded of Clockwork, honestly. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing in this situation. "I only thought to try and make your stay here a little more comfortable. It is not a cage."
"No one under my protection will be kept in a cage," Damian said with a huff, as though offended by the notion. "Nor would anyone in this house do any such thing should they learn of your existence. Which they won't."
Danny pointedly turned his head towards Alfred, the 'you told him' implied without needing to be said. Alfred the human, that was. Not the cat. Did it ever get confusing having a human and a cat with the same name in one house? Either way, the man obviously knew about him, and only Damian had seen him so far, hadn't he?
Human Alfred shook his head. "I am afraid, Mister Danyal, that you were not as subtle as you perhaps intended to be. I did happen to spot you the other day."
Danny's stomach twisted at the knowledge. Fuck. If the old butler had seen him, then who else might have? Damian, at least, had only seen him because his stupid cat brought Danny right to the kid.
"Now, I believe the question should be where we settle Mister Danyal's apartment," Alfred said. Now that he'd gotten the chance to see the young man much more up close, he had to raise his estimation of his age. Of course, with Danyal's small height, he could only estimate how tall he would be in a more typical scale, but his narrow build had looked like an older teenager or a college aged young adult at a distance. Now, seeing his face, wary of them as it was, his new estimation was mid twenties at the youngest.
Too old to be sharing a room with his youngest grandchild.
Damian, of course, was not in agreement, and scoffed. "What sort of question is that? He will stay with me."
"A guest room would be more suitable," Alfred countered. "It will afford both of you privacy."
"And leave Danyal open to being walked in on by anyone in the manor," Damian argued.
Alfred sighed. The boy raised a good point. There was no one to keep him protected in an empty room. "Perhaps he could stay in my chambers, then."
"I said that I would be the one to protect him!"
This was going nowhere, clearly. Glancing at the young man, Alfred felt his heart twinge at the way he pressed himself back into the pillows. "Perhaps we should ask Mister Danyal his opinion for his accommodations."
With both of them looking at him again, the man looked more than nervous. So perhaps it was predictable that he pointed at the window instead of saying anything.
Which, unfortunately, was just not an acceptable answer at the moment.
"I am afraid, Mister Danyal, that we will have to insist that you remain at the manor until you are in better condition," Alfred said apologetically. "Once you are more recovered, then you have my word that we will help you return to your home." To his left, Damian grumbled but did not protest. Good. "Now, if Mister Danyal has no preference, perhaps a compromise. The apartment may remain in the room, but in the closet. Privacy, and a second layer of protection should anyone enter."
"No one enters here without my permission except for you," Damian said with a huff. He looked over at the closet door and then back at their guest. "Fine. Unless you have another suggestion, Danyal? That isn't just leaving."
When he didn't get a word from their guest, Damian clearly took that as agreement, picking the miniature room up from the desk carefully and moving it over to his closet. The space was, of course, quite large, so there was plenty of room for the little apartment to be tucked in without having it bumping up against shoes and the like.
Alfred smiled and once again turned to Mister Danyal, holding a hand out to him. "Would you care for a-" He broke off, seeing the flash of fear that moved across the young man's face. Suddenly, Alfred was reminded of just how much larger both he and Damian were, and how that might look to someone so small, and injured on top of everything. He hadn't wanted to frighten the young man, after all. So he took his hand back, and turned his head toward his grandson, who was already coming back their way. "Master Damian, would you mind fetching Mister Danyal's things? I do believe you should find them behind Master Duke's holiday cereal in the pantry. I will stay here to watch over our guest."
Damian shot him a look like he was about to tell him no, but then thought better of it, correctly reading the old butler's expression. Alfred waited for him to leave the room, door closing quietly behind him, before turning once again to the scared young man who'd been rather forcefully taken into their care.
"My apologies, Mister Danyal," Alfred said softly, offering him an equally quiet smile. "I understand that this must be all very disturbing to you. But I do swear, on my honor and the family I've cared for for years, that you will come to no harm here. And as I have been remiss in my duties, allow me to offer you a formal welcome to the manor. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler, and I will be at your service while you are here."
The response that came was so soft that he almost missed it, and likely would have if he had not been focussing all of his attention on the miniature figure.
"Danny."
Alfred blinked a moment, startled more than confused. "Pardon?"
"My name," the tiny man said, head leaded up to look him in the eye at last, "is Danny."
Understanding settled in and Alfred nodded his head with a small smile. "Mister Danny, then. Might there be a surname that goes along with that?" When Danny's response was just to duck his head down and return to silence, the elderly man nodded again. "Very well. If I may, will you allow me to examine your injuries? I do believe it's been several days since you applied those bandages."
Alfred was concerned when Danny ducked his head and appeared to close in on himself again, worried that he had gone too far. But then small shoulders squared up and he was given a nod. With a finger raised.
"On a condition," Danny said, his jaw set stubbornly.
"Of course," Alfred agreed easily. "What is it?"
"You stop if I say, and don't ask about old injuries."
The first was reasonable, but in combination with the second raised some alarming concerns. But to agree, Alfred had to bite down on the urge to ask for further clarification. If he pried now, the young man would likely withdraw his permission, and never open up on the matter. So he simply nodded his head. "Very well. If you're willing, would you remove your shirt?"
'Shirt,' of course, was being generous. Half of it was missing, torn or... burnt. Which did not invoke confidence. Alfred made a mental note to sew him some new clothing, head to toe. The trousers looked to be in better condition, but it would be useful for him to have something to change into so they could be laundered. The boots, at least, looked to be in good condition, though Alfred had no doubt that any socks would need to be boiled by now to be suitable again.
Danny made a face like he was already regretting this, but the young man carefully pulled the ruined remains of his shirt up and off. And even without any magnification, Alfred understood the reason for his conditions immediately, concerns about clothing swept away in an instance. One didn't receive scars like that without living through something truly horrific. And that was only what was exposed, not covered by the wrappings.
He swallowed. "Thank you. Now, let's get those old bandages off. Master Damian should be returning with your roll of fresh ones soon."
Danny's been High King for years now. More than half his life. His parents? Reformed. His arch nemesis? Retired. The GIW? Still there, but not much of a threat anymore. Until someone got a lucky shot with a brand new, and extra nasty weapon that left Danny fighting not to just retreat into his core.
Good thing Frostbite told him about a way to condense himself to save energy and heal. Sure, making himself shrink is a little weird, but as long as it gets the job done, right? A quick portal jump and he'll be home and can just rest and relax until he's strong enough to go back to normal.
...Maybe he jumped a little too far. Because he's never heard of this Gotham place, and who the heck is Batman? Wait, they've got superheros here?! (And they're cute. Oh no.)
---
Okay, so Danny had absolutely agreed to the date. He wanted to go, and was excited to go! A trip away from the manor that (hopefully) wouldn't involve weirdos dressed like penguins breaking in to mess things up. A dinner with two absolutely sexy men who, somehow, thought he was dating material.
And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? He couldn't even imagine what they saw in him! Especially right now, some rat sized freeloader. So he was more than a little nervous!
Standing in front of the vanity mirror, he found himself wishing he'd accepted Alfred's offer of nicer clothes. Even if he didn't realistically think that anyone human could make something good with so little warning. When Bruce had brought up a dinner date earlier on, he hadn't thought he meant right away!
"I do believe, Mister Danny, that your gentlemen will be pleased with your appearance as it is."
Danny didn't jump. If anyone asked, he'd deny it, and Alfred didn't seem the type to blab embarrassing details. Not, of course, that there were any to be blabbed about.
He ran his fingers through his hair one more time before turning around to face the old butler with a nervous smile. "Sorry. It's just been a while since I've been on a date. Least, one I cared about." He rubbed the back of his neck, seeing the other's raised eyebrow. "Been on a few set up by other people for me. Not really blind dates, but not people I really knew. And none of them ever went anywhere."
The position of ghost king was, of course, not a hereditary one. So there was no need to marry and have kids like if he'd been royal in the more human sense. But that didn't stop people from shoving potential partners his way from time to time to get that 'in' with the royal family. Something he was very much not interested in.
Bruce and Clark didn't know he was king. Which made why they liked him so much all the more confusing. But he was glad they did.
"You don't think this is all too fast, do you?" he asked, looking up at him.
Alfred's expression was fond as he laid his hand out on the vanity. "I think, Mister Danny, that you are used to doubting yourself. But if you have changed your mind, I can deliver the news-"
"No!" Danny blurted. He didn't want that!
"Then, perhaps everything is just as it should be."
Danny found himself nodding automatically to the familiar phrasing before he even realized. No, there were no signs that Alfred had any connection to the Ancient of Time. He would have noticed his involvement by now if he'd been nosing his way in. Right?
He shook his head. "I think I'm ready."
Alfred nodded and held his hand still for Danny to step onto, his fingers curving ever so slightly to cup around him. "Very well. I believe the others will be waiting for you downstairs."
Sitting down on his hand, Danny nodded and told his stomach to settle down as he was carried from the room. Technically, he could have absolutely flown himself. Sure, he'd worn himself out earlier with the game of tag he'd played with Clark, but then he'd had the coziest of naps, so he was well rested again! But... well. He'd picked up on the fact that pretty much everyone in the household liked getting to carry him around. So he could put up with it, to an extent. Plus, it was hard to say no to Alfred.
The elderly man brought Danny down the stairs to the entrance hall where Bruce and Clark did indeed stand waiting. And fuck, but they made a pretty pair.
"One spirited young man, as promised," Alfred said, walking up to them and waiting for Danny to climb from his hands to Bruce's. "The car is waiting and ready outside."
"I assume you will be driving?" Clark asked. He glanced between Bruce and Danny, and the ghost was pleased to see that he wasn't the only one who looked a bit flustered.
"Of course."
"Right, of course," Clark said, his cheeks pink. As if Alfred would let anyone drive his adopted son around unless there were specific circumstances. The alien cleared his throat and turned more of his attention to Danny. "You look nice."
Danny absolutely knew he was blushing with them both looking at him. He looked away as he sat down for better balance. At least that was his excuse. "Thanks. You too. Sorry I didn't dress up. Don't really have a lot of clothes."
"You look lovely as you are," Bruce assured him with a smile, curving his hand to touch a finger to his shoulder. "Are you ready to go?"
Was he ready? Hell no he wasn't ready! What if he messed up? What if they decided that no, they really didn't need a third. But he didn't want them to think he was doubting them, so pushed all of that down in order to give them a grin. "Ready as I will be. Have a plan for getting me in there all sneaky like?"
Bruce was clearly holding back a smile as he nodded. "It isn't many parts. We'll take one of the lower key cars, come up to the building from the back, and you'll hide in a pocket until we're safely inside. The car windows are shaded, but not entirely opaque. I've already asked the owner to see that any windows that can see our seating be covered in advance. Sophie said that she'll be overseeing everything personally." He looked down at Danny. "If you prefer to stay out of sight when she's in the room, I can ask her to warn us before entering so you can hide."
"That might be kind of awkward," Danny said, chewing on his lip. On one hand, there was letting yet another person see him. On the other, he'd be close to the other two, Bruce obviously trusted the lady, and so far he'd had a pretty decent run of luck when it came to people there laying eyes on him. Penguin didn't count. He was already robbing the place. "No, I think it'll be fine. Long as it's just the one person."
"The only other people who will be there will be her husband and daughter, and they should stay in the kitchen," Bruce assured him. "So the final question is, whose pocket would you prefer?"
A snicker slipped out that Danny didn't even try to hold back. "That has to be one of the weirdest questions I've ever been asked. You know that, right?" Judging from their smiles, yes, they absolutely did know. "Gonna pick purely based on which one looks like it'd be more comfortable, not because I'm showing more favor either way, okay?"
"Perhaps, gentlemen, a decision can be made once we reach the car, if we are to arrive on time," Alfred said, giving them a nudge as he opened the door for the group.
"Sorry, Alfred," Clark said sheepishly, ducking his head as he stepped out past him. Bruce, on the other hand, merely followed them out with a soft chuckle at the other man.
As for Danny, he was making a study of both men as they walked. Specifically, how tightly their suit jackets clung to each of them as they moved. And not even for horny reasons! (Though it was hard to deny the very horny thoughts that ran through his head in the process.) He wanted to figure out which pocket would be less likely to squeeze him in tight.
Both of them were built, more muscled and bulkier than he'd ever be. (He was not complaining.) But, between them, Clark was bigger. Both in height and breadth. However, it also looked like there was more room built into the suit. Especially as they climbed into the car, Bruce's pulling snug against him. Pleasing to the eye, but maybe not the most comfortable to be inside. (Inside the pocket!) Which made the choice a pretty clear one.
Danny was released to float out of the way while they buckled themselves in, and admittedly had to tear his eyes away from well fitted suits to look at their faces. Their somewhat smug faces.
"I'll ride with Clark this time," he said, pointedly ignoring that and absolutely not blushing all over again. "Think I'd get squashed flat with you, Bruce."
"Maybe next time," Bruce said, surrendering without a fuss.
Clark smiled as he held his pocket open with two fingers, waiting for Danny to fly to him. "You could wear one of mine next time. There'd be plenty of room then."
Bruce raised an eyebrow before his lips curled into a smirk. "Looking to get me into your clothes already, Kent? On our first date too. Scandalous."
"Weren't you just both inviting me in just a moment ago? And seeing as I'm currently in Clark's clothes, I think I beat you to it," Danny quipped as he dropped himself into the pocket, folding his arms over the top edge so he could keep looking out. "So good thing I've never cared about my reputation."
He knew he'd said the right thing when Clark burst out with a laugh. "I think he has us both there."
"Of course I do. I'll have you know that back home I am considered the absolute king when it comes to banter." King when it came to a few other things too, but that was a different matter for future Danny to deal with.
"No wonder you got along so well with Lois." Clark reached a finger down to ruffle his hair with a fingertip.
"And Dick," Bruce agreed. He had a fond look on his face as he leaned back into his seat, the car starting down the (ridiculously) long driveway.
"Face it, all your family likes me. Because I'm freaking adorable." Danny flashed them a grin and then proceeded to duck down into the darkness of the pocket so Clark could let go of his jacket. Before they passed the gates and got where there might be someone looking at just the wrong moment.
"Are we sure that he isn't an imp?" Bruce asked from the other side of the fabric wall, and the whole of the pocket shifted with Clark's responding shrug.
As he settled in for the ride, Danny could admit that maybe, just maybe, pocket riding wasn't as bad as he'd thought it might be. It was warm, and maybe a little stuffy, but that was the advantage to not needing to breathe. And the feeling of Clark's giant heart beating so close by... it was nice. The other two made light conversation outside, through which he learned that the reason Bruce knew about the restaurant was that his father had saved it from falling under a loan shark back when the owner's parents had run into financial issues decades before. Which sounded like such a rich philanthropist thing to do. Something Sam would probably do once her parents kicked it.
Too bad they weren't around for him to meet. Bruce's parents, not Sam's. He'd met them more than enough.
The ride wasn't an extremely long one, thankfully not long enough to lull him to sleep, but it was still a relief when he felt the car come to a stop, Alfred announcing that he had arrived and the door opening. A light weight settled over Danny's pocket as the whole thing shifted, Clark climbing out of the car with a protective hand over him.
"I shall remain in the neighborhood should an extraction be needed," Alfred said outside the pocket.
"Thank you, Alfred. If anything comes up-"
"Master Bruce, if anything occurs, I am sure the children are quite capable of handling it," the older man said firmly. "Enjoy your dinner."
"I'll know if they need help," Clark murmured quietly to the other man, Danny's ghost hearing just picking it up. Just like he heard the opening of a door and the new voice that spoke up.
"Bruce, welcome! It's been too long since you've come to visit. Come in and introduce me to your handsome man." The woman's voice carried a strong Greek accent that reminded Danny of Pandora and some of the ghosts he'd met in her territory.
"Sophie, this is Clark," Bruce said, a smile in his voice. "Clark, Sophie. Try not to stuff him until he explodes. His mother would be very upset with me."
The woman, Sophie, scoffed. "Please. It looks like this one at least gets enough to eat. Nice and big, like he should be. Unlike you. Clark, you tell your mother she's done very well by you. Is your family Greek?"
Clark chuckled self-consciously to the sound of chairs being pulled out and settled into. "Afraid not. Kansas born and raised half a dozen generations back. But Ma and Pa are farmers. Can't say they've seen an empty plate they've liked."
"Good. You should set her on that Alfred. Now, what was all this secret fuss about?" she asked. "You wouldn't roll out the fancy paperwork just to keep the press away from a date."
"Yes and no," Bruce said. "A date, yes, but not Clark. Well, not just Clark."
"Play word games with me, Bruce, and I will have Alphonso burn your appetizers. Don't think I won't."
"No need for that. We just have a third person dining with us. He's the one it's most important to keep secret. Clark?"
Danny took a deep breath as Clark's jacket was opened and a large hand dipped into the pocket for him. He wrapped his arms around the fingers and closed his eyes to let them adjust to the light as he was pulled out. There was a catch of breath as he was set down on the table between Bruce and Clark. Opening his eyes once more, he looked up to the staring proprietress, giving her a little wave when she didn't move. "Hello."
It took her a minute before she so much as blinked, inhaling slowly and giving Bruce a sharp glance. "Bruce, you did not tell me that you were bringing one of the dactyls."
The what? Danny spun the name around in his head. Something Clockwork or Pandora had mentioned, maybe? A kind of little spirit or whatnot maybe? Either way, nothing to do with him! Danny shook his head, waving his hands. "Oh no, it's nothing like that. This is just temporary."
"Danny's meta," Bruce explained, bringing his hand close to hover protectively around Danny's back. He'd been set down between them, well within reach of both. "And the three of us are seeing each other. It's new. Of course I couldn't think of anywhere better for a first date than here."
The older woman was silent for a moment, looking back and forth between the three men before fixing her eyes on Danny once more with pursed lips. He offered a smile up at her, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. At last, she turned a disapproving eye on Bruce. "Hm. That's one wise choice you've made, since you clearly aren't feeding him enough. He's even skinnier than you."
"To be fair, he hasn't been at the manor for long," Bruce defended lightly, a small smile on his lips. "But I'm sure that you'll make your best effort to correct that."
"Who do you think I am? Of course I will," Sophie said with mock offense. Grabbing a set of menus, she handed them out, pointedly laying one open on the table in front of Danny. "Danny, yes? Decide what you want and we'll whip up something special for you. I may not have been prepared to cook for someone your stature—" She gave Bruce another look. "—but that doesn't mean we're not up to the challenge."
Danny was proud of himself for not jerking or going invisible when she came so close without warning, even if his heart gave a little jump. Instead, he craned his head back to look up at her, nodding. "Will do. Thanks."
"Good. Now, look that over while I fetch the wine."
"Alfred sent these to help," Bruce said, handing her a small box before she could sweep off to the kitchen. Which she eyeballed before taking along with her.
"Doing alright?" Clark asked, looking down at Danny with a smile.
The ghost nodded, drawing in a breath to let go of the last of the tension. "Yeah, I'm fine. Think getting used to so many people in the manor's helping. What was in the box though?"
"Dishes. Alfred reminded me that they wouldn't have something your scale here without advance warning," Bruce explained. He leaned his head on a hand, looking at the other two. "It wouldn't be a good date if you had to eat out of scrounged objects or off the edge of someone's plate."
"I've probably been on worse," Danny said idly, stepping up onto the menu that'd been laid out for him for a better view. "In fact, I know I've been on worse."
"I think we're trying to break the record in the other direction."
"Somehow, I don't think that's going to be much of a challenge," Danny said with a snicker, strolling about as he considered the options, trying to imagine what would be actually possible to downsize. Nothing stuffed, that was for sure. Glancing up at them, he flashed a grin. "But I didn't think you were supposed to talk about other dates you'd been on when dating someone new."
"That one seems to be on you this time," Clark pointed out, leaning his elbow against the table, head resting against a hand. His Ma would have scolded him for bad table manners, but she'd never had to negotiate talking to someone who could fit in the palm of her hand. And he didn't want to loom. "But how about you tell us about you instead, then?"
"Don't know if there really that much to say." Other than the fact that he was a ghost, high king of the Realms, and had been tap dancing on the edge between life and death since he'd been fourteen. Which, even if he was ready to come out with that, it was so not cozy date chatter. Especially not in a restaurant where the owner could come back out at any moment. "Grew up in the town I was born in, nuclear family, got a high school diploma but never went to college."
Somehow, Bruce managed to convey his disbelief in that being everything there was to be said with a single lift of an eyebrow, making Danny squirm in place.
Clark, thankfully, showed mercy on him. "I was something of a hometown boy before I went to university too," he said. "I wasn't born there, but I'll have to tell you that story later." Danny was quick to nod. He hadn't forgotten Clark saying he was an alien, after all! (How would anyone forget that?) "But I consider Smallville my hometown."
The tiny man snickered. "Smallville? It's really called that?"
"It's Kansas," Clark said with a 'what can you do' kind of smile. "Just a little farming town. Too small for even a community college. But it has its charms. You'll have to visit at some point. Ma and Pa would probably love you on sight."
"I suppose I shouldn't make fun of it too much. My Aunt Alicia lives in a place called Spittoon. The sort that most people don't even have phones because they like it that way," Danny said, still grinning. Then something occurred to him. "Wait. You came from Smallville. And now you live in Metropolis. Which, if I remember my lessons right, literally means big city. You can't tell me that you didn't do that on purpose."
Clark blinked. "Actually... I don't think I ever noticed that." He glanced over at Bruce. "Did you?"
"Dick caught onto it as soon as you mentioned your hometown the first time," Bruce said, lips twitching as he tried to hide a smirk.
"At least it wasn't Tim or Damian..." Clark muttered with a little grimace. He didn't need it pointed out to his sons. Not with Jon at that age when poking fun at his father was among his favorite pastimes.
“You’re just lucky Ellie’s grown up. She was vicious when she was a kid,” Danny said, making a face at the memory. Between Vlad and Sam’s influences, she’d gotten very good at picking at things. Usually to his detriment. “Actually, still is, but she's usually on my side these days. Most of the time."
"Hope she hasn't been taking advantage of your size those other times," Bruce commented lightly.
"Oh, she absolutely would, but she hasn't seen me like this and I'm hoping to get back to my proper height before she inevitably tracks me down," Danny said with a snort. He hadn't sensed any ghosts other than the shades and the city spirit since he'd arrived, but that just meant that Ellie didn't know where he was. Yet. He paused when the other two men shared a concerned glance. "What?"
"How long have you been like this?" Clark asked delicately. "Small, we mean."
Danny rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. "About three weeks now? Wasn't that long before I ended up in Gotham."
The two caped heroes had to stop and process that. They'd all been picturing Danny as having been small like this for much longer, possibly years. So hearing otherwise completely shook up any timelines they'd been putting together. On one side, it was a relief that they could throw out the idea of his being held prisoner because he'd been too small to escape. On the other, it was easy to line up the new date estimation with another important one.
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Danny, the weapon you were shot with. Did it-"
His question got cut off by a pointed cough and a nudge from Clark, who was already looking up with a polite smile at the return of their hostess.
"Apologies for the wait. We had to find a dropper small enough for the wine, and make sure it was clean for you," Sophie said, pouring the two full sized glasses and a shot glass before producing the promised dropper to fill a tiny wine glass Danny's scale, obviously from the box that Alfred had sent. She set the dropper back into the shot, leaving it and the bottle on the table. Catching Danny's eye, she winked. "For your refills. Try not to drink it all now."
"Probably could," Danny countered with a little smile. He knew he could. Perks of being a halfa. His body burned through alcohol faster than it did stitches. "I have a pretty high tolerance."
"Try not to give yourself alcohol poisoning," Bruce said with a snort. "Damian would never forgive me."
"You'll never see me with so much as a hangover, scout's honor."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I have trouble picturing you ever being a scout."
"What, you think I couldn't do it?" Danny asked with a mock pout. He stared up into Bruce's unimpressed eyes for a moment before cracking. "Fine, fine, I wasn't. But I was a junior astronaut at space camp. Which, if you ask me, is ten times better than boy scouts would ever be."
Clark snickered, picking up his wine glass. "Don't let my old scout master hear you say that."
"You, I believe," Bruce said, a little smirk on his lips. He just shook his head when Clark's only response was a smile and a shrug. "Have you figured out what you want?"
Sophie disappeared back into the kitchen after they placed their orders. Bruce eyeballed the wine Danny was drinking, torn between worrying about dose tolerances at his size, and getting distracted by the relaxed smile their tiny third's face had settled into.
"You really don't need to worry about me drinking too much, Bruce," Danny said, evidently reading his face. "I metabolize it too fast to have any real effect. Never even been properly tipsy."
Clark nudged his shoulder. "Sounds like you're the only one we'll have to watch then, Bruce."
"Forgive me for being mortal," the Gotham knight snorted, taking a sip of his own glass. It was a little sweeter than he usually gravitated towards, but he suspected its selection had been more based on Sophie's assumptions about Danny's tastes than what she knew about his. Which was fine.
"Don't worry, we like you anyway," Danny assured him playfully. When Bruce wordlessly laid a hand on its side on the table, the tiny man shifted to lean into it. "So, what do you two do when you're not working, or working?"
The added inflection made it clear that he was referring to their caped activities. Bruce thought it over for a moment, letting Clark answer first.
"I like to read some," the Kryptonian said. "My birth parents left behind a lot of information about where they were from, and I like to study that to learn more. Otherwise, I spend time with the kids, or stop back at the farm to help out with the chores. Ma and Pa say they don't need me to, but they're not so young anymore. And we all like the chance to visit. I try baking sometimes, but... Well, when we were married, Lois and I ate a lot of takeout."
"So you're just as hopeless in the kitchen as I've heard Bruce here is, huh?" Danny teased. He wrapped an arm around one of Bruce's fingers, pulling it around himself in a way that made the older man's stomach flutter. "Any pets?"
"Not mine, but I get roped into dog sitting for Kara a lot." Clark eyed the small figure. "We should probably wait to introduce you to Krypto until you're bigger. He's a friendly dog, but I've had no luck training him, and you're kind of about the size of his chew toys. What about you?"
"Not really. Well, there's Cujo, but he's not technically mine. More like he decided that he likes me and pops up when and where he pleases." Danny's face was fond as he talked. "I think I've made a little headway on the training side, but... well, there's no controlling a dog like that. Still, he's a good boy."
"Don't tell Damian that. We already have two in the house," Bruce said, already clearly able to picture his youngest making it his mission to adopt Danny's dog as well.
The tiny man blinked. "You do? How come I haven't seen them?" He paused a moment. "You've been keeping them away from me, haven't you?"
"Like Clark said, you are currently the size of a chew toy," Bruce reminded him. He flexed his fingers to squeeze Danny's shoulders in demonstration. "Titus and Ace are well trained, but none of us want to risk it. They are, after all, still dogs."
"Eh, you might have a point there," Danny said with a grimace. "Though actually I think Damian mentioned Titus? He didn't specify he was a dog though, and it was kind of in the middle of scolding me for slipping out for a walk around without his knowing. Before I met you two. Makes sense though. Might be safe enough now that I can fly again?"
"Not with Krypto," Clark corrected.
Danny gave him a long stare. "He flies, doesn't he?"
Clark nodded. "And he's both fast, and fond of catching flying objects."
"Right, we'll keep that particular meet and greet on the back burner until later," Danny said with a firm nod. "I'll stick with animals that aren't likely to try and eat me for a bit. Same reason I stayed outside the fence when Damian introduced me to Jerry. Birds are mean."
Considering the trouble he'd reportedly had with an unpowered cat, Bruce wasn't surprised. He brushed a fingertip down Danny's arm, appreciating the subtle green flush of his cheeks in response. "If you want to meet Ace and Titus, we can do it slowly. Get them used to you. Though they may try to herd you. Ace especially."
"So, like Cujo," Danny concluded. "Hopefully they aren't as destructive when their favorite squeaky toy goes missing."
Clark raised an eyebrow. "I'm sensing a story there."
"Oh, you have no idea." Instead of answering, Danny turned in the curve of Bruce's hand to look up at him. "So, what do you do for fun? Noticed you didn't answer earlier."
"I don't tend to have a lot of free time," Bruce admitted. "Between work and other things, they keep me busy."
"Not so busy that you can't have hobbies," Danny said with a huff. "Even I have them. And when I'm not on what basically accounts to medical leave? I'm super busy."
"You'll have to tell us about what you do later," Bruce said, curious. "But to answer, I like reading when I have the free time, chess when I have someone to play with, and tinkering with engines. Sometimes, I enjoy cooking."
"He's not very good at it," Clark added, grinning when he got an unimpressed stare in return. "Sorry Bruce, but Alfred told me about the incident when you were officially banned from using his kitchen."
"Ooh, I'll need to ask him for that story eventually," Danny said, snickering. "So no yachting or trying to buy sports teams or anything like that? What about throwing big cocktail parties?"
Feeling vaguely put upon, Bruce sighed. "The yachts and the parties are part of my public persona. That doesn't mean I enjoy them." He looked down at the tiny man. "Buying sports teams?"
"Well, trying to. Vlad's been trying to buy his favorite team for years and they keep turning down his offers. Probably just on principle at this point." Danny shrugged. "I don't know. He and the Mansons were really the only rich people I knew growing up, and you're obviously nothing like them. And before you ask, that's a good thing. If it weren't for Granny Ida, I'd have to assume they adopted Sam because she's nothing like them either. Goth crow in a family of high nosed swans."
"Sounds like an interesting friend. You'll have to invite her to Gotham at some point," Bruce said. He leaned his cheek against his hand. "Your other friend-- Tucker? --is welcome too."
Something about the tone of the offer made Danny pause and look up at him, quickly caught up in dark blue eyes. He swallowed. "Yeah, maybe I will."
"Metropolis too," Clark added. "It may not be as appealing to the goth crowd, but it's a lovely city. You'll like it too." He flashed a smile. "Should probably introduce you to Ma and Pa before we start making plans to bring more people over to Smallville."
"Already planning to introduce me to the parents, huh?" Danny quipped, feeling the butterflies flutter about his stomach. The two hadn't said they would invite his friends. They'd said that he would. Making it sound like... like he'd be living here. And not just temporarily.
The longer he knew them, the more appeal that idea had. And it wasn't like he wouldn't be able to portal back to the Zone or Amity once he was all powered up. Assuming he wasn't reading too much into everything.
And then Clark's cheeks flushed pink and he started to sputter, Bruce laughing softly at the alien's expense, and the idea just settled into place. He wanted to stay.
"I hope you don't think we've been pushing things along too quickly," Clark pushed out in a rush once he got his tongue back in line. "Heaven knows I don't usually move this fast, and neither does Bruce when it's serious, but we like you a lot. I mean, I hope we made that clear from the start. And not just because you're cute! I mean, you are cute, and pretty, but also funny and-"
"What Clark means is that we would like you to stay," Bruce said, interrupting the ramble with a little smile. He flattened his hand, holding it steady so Danny could step into it. "Well after you've recovered. With us."
Danny swallowed, giving himself a moment while he settled on Bruce's hand, being lifted up to face height between them. Then, glancing at both of them, he smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."
Over his head, the two men met eyes before leaning in. And then both sides of his face were covered with warm, giant lips. He couldn't help but giggle, turning his head one way then the other in an attempt to kiss each of them back. Obviously, he was going to have to get back to normal soon just so he could kiss them properly!
-
The meals at Arkham were never anything to write home about, but there were some days that Joker thought were particularly bad, and he made a face at what was meant to be turkey gravy and mashed potatoes according to the weekly menu slapped onto his tray with a particularly unappealing splat.
"If this is meant to be a joke, it isn't a funny one," he said, frowning at the server. Who didn't even have the courtesy to react, staring at him with even less expression than Batsy when he was being particularly dull.
"Move along," the server said flatly. "Next!"
Joker sniffed. "No sense of humor."
Shaking his head, he spun on his heel before going for the empty seat between Riddler and Mad Hatter. At least they could appreciate when something was properly funny. Though they were missing someone.
"Say, didn't I hear that Ozzy was back?" he asked, scanning the room in search of his bird themed friend.
"What is black and blue and walks with four legs?" Riddler asked back, poking at the identical slop on his tray. "A bird that angered a bat and lost the fight."
It was about then that the cafeteria doors swung open and one of the guards, actually looking sympathetic for once, escorted Penguin inside. Joker's eyebrows climbed up towards his hairline at the sight. Or, more pointedly, at the crutches and amount of bandages the lounge runner was swaddled up in.
"What the hell happened to you?" he asked once the Penguin had hobbled his way over to sit across from them.
Penguin flinched, shifting back and forth in a futile attempt to find a comfortable way to sit on the hard bench in his condition. "Batman happened." He shuddered. "I thought he was going to kill me this time!"
"Batman doesn't kill," Hatter reminded him with a snort.
"He would have, if Signal hadn't called him off!"
"You must have really gotten under Batsy's skin this time then," Joker said before snickering. "I'm almost jealous. Don't you know that's my job?"
"You can keep it. I'll be staying right here where it's safe." He rubbed his throat with a grimace. "It's this new meta he's being protective of. Barely gave him a little tap and the Bat was on me like a feral dog."
Joker narrowed his eyes. "A meta, you say?"
"Obviously, unless Bats picked up another alien to pal around with. He was this tiny little thing, and I mean tiny," Penguin said, making a gesture with his hands to show how big. Or, rather, how small. "David, or Dennis, or Daffy, something with a D. It doesn't matter. All I know is that I'm not going within a mile of him again because I don't want Batman to decide his moral code allows for finishing me off if his little boyfriend gets hurt again. Who knows what he might do?"
Who knew indeed? Joker settled back into his seat with a scowl. Just who was this guy? Batman didn't even break his no killing rule for his precious baby birds. To waste his breaking point on some nobody, when he wasn't even there to participate?!
Batsy's attention belonged to him. Maybe Joker couldn't do much about whatever Batman's thing with Superman was, but the big blue would always be an outsider anyway. Some little imp of a meta, he can handle. And how.
He just had to figure out how to draw the little home wrecker out. And then it'd be lights out for Tinkerbell.
Danny's been High King for years now. More than half his life. His parents? Reformed. His arch nemesis? Retired. The GIW? Still there, but not much of a threat anymore. Until someone got a lucky shot with a brand new, and extra nasty weapon that left Danny fighting not to just retreat into his core.
Good thing Frostbite told him about a way to condense himself to save energy and heal. Sure, making himself shrink is a little weird, but as long as it gets the job done, right? A quick portal jump and he'll be home and can just rest and relax until he's strong enough to go back to normal.
...Maybe he jumped a little too far. Because he's never heard of this Gotham place, and who the heck is Batman? Wait, they've got superheros here?! (And they're cute. Oh no.)
---
Dick may have moved away to Bludhaven some time ago, but there were plenty of things that could bring him back to Gotham on a regular basis, and one of them was Alfred’s Sunday cooking. Starting with brunch and going all the way through to dinner. Sure, he also came around to check on his brothers, but he’d have to be a liar to say that the food wasn’t one of the big reasons.
“Master Richard, a pleasure to see you again,” Alfred said with a warm smile as he answered the door without Dick even needing to ring the bell. (One of these days, he’d figure out how he always knew when someone was coming.) “Even if you are late. The others are in the kitchen. If you hurry, you may be able to get one of the chocolate muffins before Master Bruce absconds with them all.”
“Sorry, traffic was murder.” Dick gave his adopted grandfather a one-armed hug. “Chocolate, huh? What’s the special occasion?”
The elderman man sniffed. “Is an occasion needed? The family is here. That is reason enough. Now, off with you.”
“Not coming with?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. Sure, Alfred often ate separately out of a habitual sense of formality, but he still usually joined them on Sundays.
“I will be there momentarily, Master Richard,” Alfred said before gently shooing him off towards the kitchen.
Watching the older man head up the stairs, Dick puzzled over it as he turned and headed toward the smell of food. Maybe someone was sick and he was checking on them? But wouldn’t he have been told about that if it were the case?
Ah well. If it was important, it’d have been in the bird chat. And Tim would have known. Instead, his CEO brother was paying more attention to sneaking what was probably at least his third cup of coffee before Alfred could return and stop him.
But then Damian kept glancing in the direction of his room over and over again. Bruce tried twice to ask him about it, but Cass spoke up to say something each time, distracting him. And then when Alfred actually did come join them, he made eye contact with the youngest boy and nodded, like he was sharing a secret.
Dick might not have been Batman (most of the time), but he had been raised by the man. And in that time he’d picked up more than a few skills. Which were telling him in no uncertain terms that Alfred and Damian were hiding something. Maybe Cass too, but then again, she was Cass.
Chewing on the muffin he’d snatched out from Bruce’s reaching hand, he worked through the clues in his head. Obviously, it was something inside, most likely in or near Damian’s room. And, knowing his baby brother, probably something alive. Had Alfred been delivering food upstairs? Administering a treatment? It wouldn’t be the first time that Damian had snuck in an injured animal.
Alfred obviously knew about it, but they were keeping it secret from Bruce. Probably not a dog. Ace or Titus would have sniffed that out and been at Damian’s door. Plus dogs tended to be too noisy to hide in a bedroom, and he didn’t think that Damian had had them last Sunday when he was there. Another cat? Dick hoped that Alfred (the cat) wouldn’t mind too much. They could be pretty territorial.
Or maybe a bird?
He hoped it wasn’t another turkey.
Unfortunately, while Dick didn’t know what exactly was lurking in Damian’s room, experience told him that if he actually asked, he’d get absolutely stonewalled. So, there was really only one solution. Well, two. He could just wait until Damian got caught and the family as a whole found out about the newest addition to the Wayne zoo.
Oooor he could go snooping and find out now.
So really, there was only one solution.
When Damian finished his meal, he stood up from the table quickly. “Thank you, Alfred, for the meal. If I may be excused, I have homework to do in my room.”
“Master Damian, do not forget to tend to your animals,” Alfred reminded him. “Your homework will wait the hour.”
Dick tried to hide his smile at the conflicted look on Damian’s face. Because of course he couldn’t just neglect his current pets in favor of the new one. So his nod of agreement was an inevitable one. And if he couldn’t just see the teenager starting to peek out as the boy left the room, this time headed for the barn instead of upstairs.
Which just afforded him the best of opportunities.
“I’m going to go check something in my room,” Dick said cheerfully as he got up as well. “I think I left one of my favorite hoodies the last time I stayed the night.”
He didn’t wait for his statement to get cross-examined, slipping out of the kitchen and heading right for the stairs. His old room wasn’t even that far away from Damian’s which made the cover even better. Slip in, grab a picture of whatever little critter he was hiding in there, slip out.
So long as his baby brother hadn’t boobytrapped it.
He wouldn’t. Right? Not with an innocent animal inside that could get caught in the crossfire.
Well, he’d be crossing his fingers on the way in, that was for sure.
-
Danny was getting close to just deciding to screw his home town, screw the throne, and stay here for the rest of his life. Or, at the very least, the rest of Alfred’s life. Because the slice of muffin that he’d delivered had to be the best thing that he’d ever eaten. He’d bet good money, even all of Vlad’s money, that even Lunch Lady would bow to Alfred’s baking skills and ask for recipes.
And that wasn’t even mentioning the homemade sausage he’d been given too, which was equally delicious.
He could say one thing for sure. Whenever Alfred died, he would find a warm welcome in the Realms, and an invitation to come stay in Phantom’s Keep. He would see to it personally.
Of course, that was assuming that Alfred was willing to leave the family. Which, from what Danny had seen so far, was a big if. The man was certainly a guardian spirit in the making. Not that he was in any hurry for him to die, of course! But he’d help move things along smoothly once he did.
For now though, Danny laid stretched out on Damian’s bed once again, this time on his stomach, grabbing handfuls of muffin in one hand as he watched a documentary on the phone that Damian had left for him. A ‘spare.’ Because rich people just had extra phones laying around that were certainly miles better than anything he’d had as a kid. Even living with inventors and having Tucker as his best friend.
He really wanted to know if they could integrate Fenton tech into something like this to make it work in the Realms.
Though, maybe when it wasn’t almost big enough to stretch out on.
Danny being Danny, of course, had immediately searched up a playlist of NASA documentaries, and happily indulged in his obsession as he watched. Sure, watching space on a screen wasn’t as good as being in space, but until he could fly again, he’d take what he could get! And learning new things about the space program was always a win!
The downside was that when he was watching, listening, reading things about space... Danny tended to tune most other things out. So when the footsteps outside the room were too heavy to be Damian or Alfred’s, he didn’t notice. He did notice the opening of the door, but assumed that it was one of the aforementioned pair.
Until they didn’t say anything. That’s when he finally looked up, and was caught in a blue eyed stare.
-
Dick stared, blue meeting bright, neon green, both sets of eyes equally wide.
That... was not a dog. Or a kitten. Or even a god forsaken turkey. That was a person. A tiny person, but a person nonetheless. Dressed in black and white handmade looking clothes. Watching a video on space. In his little brother’s bedroom.
He opened his mouth to say... actually, he didn’t know, and it wasn’t important because the moment he did, the tiny person blinked out of sight; there one moment and gone the next. But the slight indent he left on Damian’s blanket was still there, moving quickly. Dick barely had time to register that he could see the tiny footsteps hurrying towards the edge of the bed before they began to blink in and out of sight until settling on visible at last. Visible, but not stable.
Not stable, and too close to the edge.
When they overbalanced and started to fall, Dick didn’t even hesitate before he was across the room, a small weight landing in his hands. And he only began to breathe again when he saw the tiny figure move. Sure, it was trying to jump back out of his hands, but it was movement!
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quickly. He tried to make them lay back, but let up the moment they winced. “Sorry.” They squinted up at him, little chest moving fast. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Don’t worry, someone beat you to it,” came the dry response.
Dick blinked and raised his hands up to eye level. "You do realize that just makes me even more concerned, right?"
Up close, he could see more of the tiny person, including, unfortunately, how nervous he looked to be in his hands. Male, mid-twenties looking despite white hair and... where those pointed ears? Not his type, but extremely cute. And with the size and brief bit of invisibility, most likely a meta. (Or one of the fae, whispered the part of him that’d never lost that wonder.)
He was also waving a hand to catch his attention.
“Um, down? Please?” the tiny man asked. He grabbed Dick’s other hand, still kind of hovering nearby, and used it to pull himself upright. But he still didn’t look steady. “Ugh.”
“Sure that’s a good idea?” Dick asked, frowning. “You don’t look too steady on your feet.”
“I’m fine,” the man insisted. “Just a little bit dizzy.”
The first Robin raised an eyebrow. “Of course, just a little bit. You’re too small for a big bit.”
When the tiny man stopped and looked at him, Dick worried briefly that he’d touched a sensitive subject. But that only lasted until he noticed the smirk forming. Oh, it would appear that he’d found a kindred spirit after all.
“Well, thanks for the hand,” the man said. “It was a big help. One of the biggest helping hands I’ve seen in a while.”
“Well you know, gotta look out for the little guy,” Dick returned, eyes lighting up. He laid his hand down on the bed, since that’d been where this guy who was obviously meant to be his new friend had been when he snuck in.
“And I’d really hate to be underfoot. Even if some of the jokes do end up a little flat.” Carefully stepping off Dick’s hand, the man sank back down into the divot he’d been laying in earlier. “Name’s Danny.”
“Dick,” he said, offering a finger to shake. Which Danny did, after giving him as big of an eyeroll as could fit on his little face. “Nice to meet you.”
“Not worried that I’ve snuck into the house and was lurking out of sight for days?” Danny asked. He reached over to pause the video that’d gone on playing while they were otherwise occupied.
“Well, going from the way Dami’s been acting, I’m going to guess that even if that were true, you’ve been welcomed into the house,” Dick concluded reasonably. “So at least him, and I’m going to guess Alfred knows you’re here. So you’ve passed half of the hardest approval ratings. My little brother’s sweet, but he doesn’t like people to know. And Alfred protects the family’s interests like a mama bear.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. They’ve both been super nice since I got here,” Danny said with a put upon huff. Before giving it away with a snicker. “Which is good because I actually did sneak in and lurk out of sight until the cat found me.” He glanced up, evidently catching Dick's alarmed face. "He didn't hurt me, don't worry! I think he's decided I'm his kitten or something..."
Relieved, Dick snickered. "A kitten, huh? Better keep you away from Selina then..."
"Don't know who that is, and I'm not sure I really want to, unless she's going to be breaking in to kit-nap me or something," the tiny man said, rolling his eyes. "In which case, going to ask Damian for better security. 'No one comes in without my express permission' my ass."
"No one is meant to, certainly. Master Richard."
In full view of his new friend, Dick stiffened and slowly turned around, quailing under Alfred's look of disappointment. Behind him, Damian's glare of protective fury was not nearly as scary.
"Come on, Alfred, can you really blame me? The two of you were clearly conspiring over something at brunch. I wouldn't be part of this family if I didn't have more than a little curiosity," Dick defended. He offered an apologetic smile at Damian. "Sorry for coming in without permission, Little D."
"If you have caused any harm to come to Danyal, you should sleep lightly in the coming days," his little brother hissed. He stepped around Alfred and pushed past Dick to get to his surprise roommate. "Are you well?"
Danny, however, waved him off. "I'm fine, Damian. Little dizzy, but that's my own fault. It'll go away."
"Lingering dizziness is not fine," Damian insisted with a scowl. "While I respect your reluctance to visit a hospital, you should allow me to summon our family doctor. She is a very well trusted physician."
"Nope, nada. Gonna have to be in even worse condition before I see any docs."
"Danyal..."
"I do believe that it is time to change out Mister Danny's bandages," Alfred said, breaking up what looked to be headed towards an argument. "Master Dick, Master Damian, please step outside to give our guest some privacy, if you would."
Damian looked like he was going to protest, glancing between Danny and Alfred, but when the tiny man didn't ask him to stay, and Alfred's stern gaze remained steady, he grumbled but retreated in defeat, grabbing Dick by the ear on the way since he was still on the ground and it was therefore easily reachable.
"Ow, ow, hey! I'm coming already!" Dick yelped, forced to scramble to his feet and follow, hunched over. Damian, of course, didn't let go until they were in the hall and the door swung shut with a click. Once he was free, Dick stood up and rubbed his abused ear. "What was that for?"
"For breaking into my private chambers and bothering Danyal," Damian said with a glare. "He is frightened of being discovered by people, and in poor enough condition without you adding to his stress."
"Don't worry, I think he's already warmed up to me." Dick couldn't help but remember the way Danny had looked at him at the start, though that was easier to think about than seeing him start to fall... He shook the thought from his head. "Guy's got a good appreciation for wordplay. Made a good icebreaker."
"Tell me you didn't inflict him with your humor," his little brother said flatly. Only to sigh when Dick just gave him a grin. "I will apologize to him for you later."
"Na, he likes it," Dick laughed. Before sobering slightly. "So, bandages?"
Damian frowned. "Danyal was wounded when he arrived. Some kind of burn across his back and shoulder, as well as deep scratches from a cat. Not Alfred."
"Yeah, he already said that the little guy didn't hurt him," Dick said, amused with how fast Damian had clarified to defend Alfred the Cat's honor. "We know anything about the how for the burn?"
Damian's face darkened. "According to Danyal, he was shot. Clearly, not with a standard pistol. And while the clothing Alfred made covers them, he has extensive scaring on his torso, suggesting that it was not the first time."
Dick sucked air through his teeth. "Escapee from some meta trafficking ring, you thinking?"
"Or, considering his distrust in medical professionals, laboratory misconduct," Damian suggested. "Whichever, they will not touch him again."
"Already protective, huh?" Dick asked, smiling softly. "Good. Little guy like that's gonna need it. So, gotten a list of powers yet?"
"I am unsure if being small counts as a power," Damian said. "If it were a simple ability to shrink, I can picture him doing so to escape, but why remain that way? Unless he is not a meta, and his kind are all small."
"Well, we can start the list with invisibility then. He flicked out of sight at first when I came in, but I think it was too much of a strain on the little guy. Didn't last long and made him pretty unsteady for a bit." Dick shrugged. Don't think of the moment after. He was fine. "So what's the theory if not a meta. World's smallest Martian? They go invisible. Fair folk? He's got the pointed ears."
Damian frowned. "I don't have enough information to form a solid theory yet, and am reluctant to ask directly when he has been through much recently. I have seen enough to understand that he is not hostile, and needs our aid, and that is enough for now."
Dick felt a bubble of pride in the pre-teen rising up in him. How far Damian had come in his thought processes and behavior since he'd arrived at the manor. He may still act far too mature for his age, but he'd taken to heart the fact that he could allow himself to be kind. And it wasn't even directed at an animal this time.
"We'll keep him safe," Dick agreed, bringing a hand up to ruffle Damian's hair, pouting when the boy ducked away from it with a growl.
"You will not tell Father of his presence here," Damian said firmly.
Dick rolled his eyes. "Please, like I'd subject someone like that to a Batman interrogation. I won't tell Bruce or anyone else unless it's a life and death emergency, or Danny says so. Promise."
Danny's been High King for years now. More than half his life. His parents? Reformed. His arch nemesis? Retired. The GIW? Still there, but not much of a threat anymore. Until someone got a lucky shot with a brand new, and extra nasty weapon that left Danny fighting not to just retreat into his core.
Good thing Frostbite told him about a way to condense himself to save energy and heal. Sure, making himself shrink is a little weird, but as long as it gets the job done, right? A quick portal jump and he'll be home and can just rest and relax until he's strong enough to go back to normal.
...Maybe he jumped a little too far. Because he's never heard of this Gotham place, and who the heck is Batman? Wait, they've got superheros here?! (And they're cute. Oh no.)
---
Never let it be said that Alfred Pennyworth was a ‘nosy’ butler, but he had lived in the Wayne Manor for many decades by now, adjusting to the changes that every child brought into the family came with, and was comfortable with the fact that he knew what to expect, and what stood out as unusual.
And something unusual was certainly going on in the house. Particularly in his.
Someone less experienced than he might have credited the small little shifts to the children. If the entire family still lived at home, he might have too, at least for a while. But with Richard living in Bludhaven, Jason in Park Row, Duke away at university, and Timothy only spending around half his time at home, that only left Master Bruce, Damian, and Cassandra truly living there full time. Most of whom respected that the kitchen was Alfred’s domain. And yet, they still would not have felt the need to hide any snacking from him.
Nor would they have hidden needing to get into the kitchen first aid kit.
That had been the first thing Alfred noticed. It was his habit to check all the aboveground kits at least once a month (the underground kits were on a weekly rotation, if so much time ever managed to pass between their uses), and he knew perfectly well how to properly leave them.
Closed, for one. Opening the drawer where this one in particular lived in and seeing the kit unlatched was an immediate sign that someone had been inside it. Someone careless. If that wasn’t so obvious, the missing supplies were. A roll of bandages and medical tape each. An opened but unused bandaid tucked in the corner of the box.
Frowning, he took the time to go through each and every item in the kit, checking them over for any signs of tampering, just in case. But no, that appeared to be the only thing touched.
There wasn’t much point in remembering if anyone had been hurt lately. Try as he might to keep the family unharmed, their nightlife inevitably meant they came away with bumps and bruises at the best, and more lasting injuries on the worse end. But if they’d been injured and wanted to hide it from him, they wouldn’t have used this kit.
The observation put him on alert, and was likely the main reason that he actually noticed the little shifts in the pantry. Containers not completely closed, or closed differently than usual. Odd marks on packaging. If there’d been signs of chewing, he might have assumed rodents instead of anything connected to the missing medical supplies, but there simply wasn’t. No mouse droppings or holes in the boxes.
Not that his namesake would ever allow such a thing in the house. Alfred the cat was quite proficient in doing his part in household upkeep.
Other things popped up as well. One of the espresso cups going missing after he knew for sure that he’d washed the whole set. Thread missing from his personal sewing basket. Odd little water spots beside the sink, smudges on the taps.
The answer didn’t come until several days after his kit inspections, when Alfred settled in for his biannual pantry purge. A necessary practice when one lived with a large family coming in and out as they pleased. He did the normal grocery shopping, but Bruce and the children liked to sneak in their favorites from time to time, and they could get old and stale should they be forgotten and left alone for too long. As part of keeping the kitchen tidy, Alfred kept the pantry fresh. Thus, the purge. It also served as a good time to do any bits of dusting that he missed during his regular cleaning.
A package of chocolate covered espresso beans that’d begun to bloom. Master Timothy’s. Some dried fruits that had gone past their date. Most likely Master Damian’s. A box of sweets from Hong Kong that had grown hard. Either Miss Cassandra’s or Miss Stephanie’s.
Working his way through to the back corners that tended to serve as favored hiding places, he shook his head fondly at the box of holiday themed Sugar-Os. Either Master Duke or Master Richard’s. Both had stayed at home over the holidays, and had a liking for the kind of rubbish companies liked to dye red and green and slap a new label on for the Christmas season. If they’d been children, Alfred would have had it out the door within days.
Plucking the box from the shelf, Alfred shook his head. Perhaps he should put in a grocery order to send to both young men, if this was still the sort of thing they enjoyed. Someone had to make sure that they were properly fed.
Placing the box into his pile to take out to the bin, Alfred turned back to where he’d found it with his dusting cloth in hand, only to freeze in place, staring.
The cereal box had evidently been hiding a nest of some kind. It wasn’t one for insects or rodents; he could tell that immediately. Not when there was a clean dishcloth folded into a neat rectangle with the missing cup sitting beside it, half full of water. Along with the likewise missing bandages and tape, both packages now open. And worse, a careful pile of what appeared to be bloodstained paper towel pieces, carefully torn into squares.
Well, stained with something like blood. The green tint was hard to explain away for an animal.
But put it all together and it told him that something had been hiding in the manor. And that it was likely injured, and he could only imagine frightened. Something that he should have alerted Master Bruce to immediately, but...
Picking up the cereal box from his pile, Alfred carefully replaced it back where it’d been. As much as he was very fond of Master Bruce, considering him as much a son as an employer, he knew that the man could be... intense if he decided someone might be a threat. And while Alfred was not so naive as to say that a small being was harmless, he had not seen any signs of threat yet.
So, he would wait and see. After all, invited or no, this could very well be a guest, couldn’t it?
And he would hate to prove a poor host.
Alfred still wasn’t quite prepared for the sight he saw shortly after his initial discovery, when he slipped into the kitchen to prepare an end of patrol snack for his flock.
It was a close thing, both actually seeing the man, and keeping himself from visibly reacting and giving into the fact that he’d seen at all. Because it was a man, no more than eight inches tall, slipping back into the pantry through the cracked open door. Slender, with white hair, and bandages wrapped around his back and shoulder, clearly visible with his shirt only half present. Alfred didn’t quite catch what he was carrying, but it was obviously some kind of supplies he’d gathered from elsewhere in the house, and the elderly butler was reminded of a rather charming book series he’d read as a youth.
Except this wasn’t fiction. This was a flesh and blood man. And it didn’t take more than a glance for Alfred to tell that he was in poor shape.
Which was why he made a point to leave out small things for their guest after that. Nothing obvious, for his family or the small man. That would invite curiosity for the former, and could frighten the latter. Open packages of napkins in the pantry; who would notice if one or two went missing? A clean bowl of water for the cat, when said cat did not eat or drink anywhere near the kitchen. Small, snack sized packages of granola and jerky. It was a relief to see the supplies go down when he passed by after.
What he still needed to figure out, however, was how to actually approach the young man without scaring him off, so he could offer actual aid. Without doing something as drastic as capturing him. Alfred, after all, had manners.
-
Alfred the Cat had noticed the new arrival days ago, and had, in his feline opinion, been very polite in letting the person go about their business. The odd little man smelled like ice and nighttime, and wasn’t doing anything to hurt his master, else the cat would have taken action much sooner. Instead, he’d merely stalked him like a good minder of the family, staying back out of sight.
Alfred noticed the senior father of their mostly human colony finding the signs of the small new arrival, and watched the signs of approval. Alfred the human did not feed people he did not approve of being in the home. Meaning, of course, that this one was yet another kitten being welcomed into the colony. A little old, maybe, but plenty small enough. And obviously too timid to come out and get help with the wounds that Alfred the cat could smell clear as day.
Which was all that he needed to know to make up his mind.
Waiting until the injured kitten emerged from the hole where they’d been hiding in one night, the cat jumped down from the counter to cage them between his paws. The odd little one yowled in protest, of course they did, but Alfred paid it no mind as he carefully bit into their clothes since, like most human shaped kittens, this one lacked a proper place for scruffing. And even the short claws that they possessed were no use as the cat dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
If his human counterpart wasn’t able to round this kitten up for proper tending, then Alfred knew where to take them instead. Their human was very good with small creatures, after all. He’d be able to help Alfred take care of him.
-
Damian wasn’t surprised to see Alfred the cat curled up on his bed when he returned home from patrol, even busy licking something and purring loudly all the while. It was easy to assume he’d dragged one of the many catnip pillows that Dick bought him in an attempt to gain his affection up onto the bed. The preteen walked past the animal, a cup of evening tea in hand, and set it down on the desk beside him to sip while he finished the last of his homework. It was easy work, still beneath his capabilities, but Damian could perhaps admit that he enjoyed the book they were reading through in his English class at least.
Flipping a page, Damian reached over to stroke the cat’s furry head, smiling softly when Alfred the cat bumped his head up into the touch. And then frowning when the cat made an... odd sound in response.
One that had almost sounded human. And scared.
The combination drew his attention, and Damian found himself staring.
There was a person being held prisoner in Alfred the cat’s paws, staring up at him with wide green eyes and a face almost as pale as the hair above it, except for where it’d been rubbed red. The hair that stood up at odd angles, because the cat hadn’t been licking a catnip pillow. He’d been grooming him.
Evidently pleased to have finally gotten Damian’s full attention to his prize, the cat chirped before going back to said grooming, and the pre-teen could see how the man grimaced automatically with the rough cat tongue running over his face again.
“Alfred, cease this,” he scolded, reaching to put his hand between the captive man and the animal’s tongue, getting a grumble from the cat and another little squeak from the man for his trouble. Both responses made him huff with annoyance as he looked down at the pair. “Stop that. Both of you.”
The man ducked his head, trying to get out from the paws holding him, but just got one laid down across his middle instead, pinning him better. Obviously, Alfred the cat had decided to adopt the tiny man. Of all persons in the manor to have inherited Father’s adoption habits.
“Fine. If Alfred has decided on your character, then I will trust his wisdom,” Damian told the small man. After all, animals were generally better judges of character than humans were. And... the man was small. Something in Damian wanted to protect him on sight, and he'd been learning to listen to those instincts. “I am Damian Wayne, blood son and heir to the Wayne family. I will take care of you.”
-
Danny stared up at the kid, recognizing him as the angry boy from before. Sure, he didn’t look so angry right now, but he was looming over him in a way that didn’t exactly leave Danny feeling ‘taken care of.’ Especially with a cat keeping him pinned down on the bed! Sure, all the cat had done after ghost-napping him was try to lick his hair and skin off, but he remembered the last cat he’d run into, thanks.
And more to the point, he’d gotten him seen!
“What may I call you?” the kid, Damian, asked, still not looking away from him.
Danny stayed quiet, his throat tight with nerves, eyes flicking back and forth between Damian’s face and the hand still hovering close by to keep the cat from continuing to groom him. Which... was nice of him?
“If you do not have a name, perhaps I could give you one?” Damian suggested when he didn’t get an answer in a short enough span of time.
Oh no. There was no way that Danny was letting anyone else name him. Not after Inviso-Bill!
“Danny,” he blurted quickly, leaning away from the hand when it twitched in response. “My name is Danny.”
The boy blinked, like he was surprised that Danny could actually speak. He nodded his head slowly. “Danyal, then.”
Danny opened his mouth to protest the name, but paused. Well, it wasn’t exactly Daniel, was it? The list of people he’d given up correcting on calling him that was a short one. Namely, Clockwork and Vlad. Even Mr. Lancer called him Danny the occasional time they ran into each other. (Danny, however, refused to call the man William. That was just too weird. Sorry teach, your first name is Mister.)
But sure, he could take Danyal. Especially when the alternative was arguing with a giant preteen in bug swatting range. So he just swallowed any protest and nodded his head.
"How did you come to be in the manor, Danyal?" Damian asked, eyes fixed on him. Like he was a particularly interesting specimen, a particularly rude voice in the back of his mind pointed out.
"There was a storm," Danny said briefly. It was honest, and hopefully less incriminating than 'I followed a shade into your neighborhood and got stranded practically on your front porch.'
The tween seemed to consider his words before nodding his head. "The rain storm. I recall. I imagine it must have been quite dangerous for someone of your size to be caught out in such weather. You will be kept protected from it in here."
"You don't need to take care of me," the ghost said, feeling like he was already losing the battle over being adopted like a wet kitten found under the porch or not. Fitting, considering he was literally what the cat dragged in.
And Damian's disbelieving scoff was just the seal on the deal. "It will be of no trouble. I can see you are already injured, so you clearly are not presently able to take care of yourself. And you will not take up much space or resources. I have experience in aiding injured civilians."
Civilian. In any other situation, that title would have made Danny laugh. He hadn't been just a civilian since he was fourteen. Older than this kid, but not by much. And to have it said by some kid with such a serious face.
Well, maybe he could humor him, just a little? Besides, who knew if he wouldn't just set his cat on him again if he tried to run away.
"Alfred will guard you while I fetch some things for your care," Damian said, drawing his hand back and standing up, making Danny jump with the abrupt movement.
Wait- The cat would guard- "Hey, no, take him with you!" Danny sputtered. But Damian didn't appear to hear him as he slipped out of the room. And the cat, Alfred, immediately went back to his self appointed task of grooming the captive ghost king like he was trying to remove every inch of exposed skin. "Stupid- This is why I like dogs better!"
