I never thought about it before but dicktimdami? The ultimate incest combo. Dick teasing his baby brothers because he just loves them so much, Damian and Tim trying to rage bait the other about who Dick loves the most while fucking nasty.
Dick spanking them whenever he get the chance because he just loves it.
Dick and Tim are not leaving each others, those two are crazy and Damian secretly get off from watching them make out.
Damian taking any opportunity to sit down on Dick’s laps and just hump him until they comes.
I think Dick should be fucking his little brothers (Tim and Damian specifically in this case) and when he gets fed up with Tim and Damian not getting along he should arrange a threesome with them, even though Tim and Damian are happy to be fucked by Dick but would rather not do anything with each other. But big brother is boss, so he'll strip them both and then guide their hands to fondle each other and tell them exactly how to suck off, eat out, and fuck the other. Jerking himself off while watching Tim and Dami reluctantly make out and touch each other <3
AGRREEEEEEEEEDDDDDD premium polybatcest using sex as a mediation tactic. and they're not really into it but Dick kinda likes that since they're still doing it because He asked them to, and every time they moan from the others ministrations even though they're trying not to it just gets Dick that much more worked up....
Fuck I’m kind of broken today. I needed to write something super better. @fishfingersandjellybabies, you give me motivation for dicktimdami.
And the curtains are muffling the sunlight still, post lunch hour. Alfred surely has mercy on days when there is no school (college courses are important, Dami), shifts at Gotham PD (Detective Grayson brought down that ring of international smugglers—with the help of the Batman’s masked partners, of course), and no pressing meetings or concerns for the eligible bachelor CEO of Wayne Enterprises (the newest product is going to be incredible).
Instead, the three Bats are rewarded for a long patrol with good hustle and no injuries other than the standard bumps and bruises. Alfred and B must be in a seriously benevolent mood.
Dick is the one that wakes up first, warm and comfortable, snuffling in the nape of Dami’s neck, catching a hint of exotic spice and sandalwood, smiling to himself before his eyes open. The slightly dark skin is smooth, unscarred, just the shape of soft hair under his nose and mouth. One arm is slug over Dami’s hip, fingers brushing up against Tim’s bare ribs on the other side. The scar from his impromptu splenectomy is usually covered by clothes or make-up since Tim is well aware of how Dick reacts to it. The same is said about the scar Hush gave Dami when the sword took his life.
In the here and now, where things are finally right and understood and better, Dick cranes his neck to look up slightly and see the dark head of messy, too long hair nestled right under Dami’s chin and the two lean, muscle forms of his men pressed tightly together, grasping at each other and him. Dami’s arm under his pillow has unconsciously gripped Dick’s wrist, Tim’s arm under his over Dami’s hip, fingers wrapped around his elbow. Even in sleep, the three of them are intertwined, together, ensuring themselves the two most important people in their lives are here and safe.
It makes Dick so warm, so content. After all the struggle, all the strain, all the pain of their lives, their own demons and choices—this is where they’ve ended up. Not forever, probably. No, not forever. All of them are well-aware of reality—the threats, the demons, the inevitable outcomes like shadows overlaid on the path of the vigilante. They’re all prepared to make the final sacrifice for doing the right thing; they wouldn’t be them otherwise.
But these moments, these stolen intimacies, these opportunities to love and be loved, to cherish and be cherished… Dick Grayson will be true to himself, take each one he can get, and hoard them more greedily than gold. He will store these moments in his memory to have until he’s facing the final call so he can remember what it is he’s been fighting for all these years, what he will give his life to protect. He wants to be able to smile right before he dies.
Pressing himself slightly closer to Dami’s hunched back, reveling in the feel of muscle and bone, heat and skin, comfort and home, Dick sighs gently and just breathes it all in.
His arm over Dami’s hip raises slightly high with a deeper breath, and he knows the youngest of the three is also awake. The hand around his wrist under their pillows tightens just slightly.
“You are thinking difficult thoughts,” and Dick can feel the vibration of the words even though Dami’s talking quietly to try giving Tim more time to sleep.
“Just—“ Dick nuzzles against Dami’s neck, breathing over his pulse, “—enjoying this.”
Dami hums a little, doing a little nuzzling of his own in Tim’s hair since he’s still sometimes awkward about showing affection. The Demon Brat has no qualms hugging them, cuddling them against him, touching when they’re hurt or unconscious, less so when they all have enough time and energy to do more intimate things (Dami’s eyes with heat while he crawls with sinewy grace up Tim’s legs or over Dick’s chest, leaning down to taste). And Dick smiles again when he feels more than hears the gentle touch over Tim’s back in the slide of skin on cloth, when he feels the thumb on his wrist make soothing circles over his pulse.
“We will schedule a day every other week,” the youngest maintains a whisper, but his tone is that imperious demand. “We have earned the right to sleep in once and a while, Grayson.”
“Not arguing, Baby Bat,” he whispers back, moving his hand slightly to palm the curve of Dami’s hip. “I think you’re absolutely right.”
“Tt, Drake is not the only master strategist in the family.”
Dick makes a hurt noise in his chest.
Dami shifts silently, slightly, eyes narrow to look over his shoulder, “you are only alive because God favors fools and the mentally infirm.”
“I have good plans, too, you know.”
“You are more reckless than any other Bat.”
“I’m also the best fighter.”
“Only because you cheat.”
“Yup. Bad guys do too, Dami.”
“Not by tickling their opponents, Richard.”
“Well if I thought it would actually work, I might try it.”
“I thought the Riddler was much too embarrassed to admit to your ‘master’ strategy.”
“Aw, c’mon. Not my fault he got hit by the Joker’s laughing gas by accident. It really was a good plan.”
And it’s saying something when Dami chuff a gentle laugh against Tim’s hair, genuine mirth and affection behind his eyes when there used to be nothing but cold, harsh intent with the underlying of fear and loneliness. Dick’s smile gets wider as his heart overflows.
“You two,” Tim’s voice is still edged with the growl of sleep, “are so cute, I’m dying here.” He yawns widely against Dami’s chest without opening his eyes. “I mean, I could be getting diabetes at this very moment.”
“Good morning to you Timothy,” Dami’s voice lighter with fondness for the man bracketing him on either side.
“Morning babe,” Tim doesn’t bother opening his eyes to tilt his head enough to peck a kiss on the end of Dami’s nose rather than his cheek and lay his head back down. The hand on Dick’s elbow squeezes.
“Go back to sleep Baby Bird,” Dick orders gently, raising his hand to sweep some of the messy strands out of Tim’s face and behind his ear. “I think we’ve been given extra time for good behavior.”
“Mmhmm. Maybe Alfred is tired of walking in on us all half naked. Never know.”
Dami laughs low, deep in his chest, “Pennyworth has too much starch in his spine for something like naked males to affect him, Timothy.”
The phrase makes Dick and Tim both bite their lips in mirth because, really Dami. Stop talking like a guy forty years older than you are.
“Have a point, Baby Bat, but m’ good. Gonna lay here a minute more, then I’m going to be boyfriend of the year and go down to bring up coffee.”
Dick hums, delighted while Dami fairly purrs. If Tim goes down for coffee, Alfred will send him back up with a tray full of breakfast, and they can be lazy in Dami’s room for a few more hours.
Perfect plan. Timmy for the win.
“I suppose Richard and I will have to think up an appropriate reward for your selflessness then, yes?”
Now both the Bats around him perk, Tim opening his eyes, and Dick peeking over Dami’s should, one brow raised.
“I’m sure, between the two of us, we could come up with something,” Dick agrees, running his nose down the soft skin just under Dami’s ear where Tim can see it. He meets Tim’s eyes with an evil little smile when the kiss he places there makes the man between them shudder lightly.
Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously, the heat already taking hold, “I am seriously taking requests if I get an incentive. You know, toast and strawberry jelly, two kinds of cereal in one bowl, poached eggs, international terrorists, random baddies—I mean, I’m up for the challenge.”
A smile curves Dami’s face right before he turns to look at Dick over his shoulder, and that smile catches on immediately.
“Incentive, Timmy?” Dick draws out, already catching Dami’s chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger.
Neither see Tim’s eyes dilate slightly.
“I believe we can provide that, can’t we, Richard.”
The soft sound of their mouths meeting, of Tim’s breath picking up, of cloth moving and sheets tangling, Tim’s hand helping Damian shift to his back so Dick can lean over him. Dami’s hand in Dick’s hair to hold it back so Tim can see, Dick’s hand gripping him at the hip.
Still, chaste and gentle. A proper good morning.
Tim is already out of bed when the two look up at him with lazy eyes and satisfied smiles.
“Two poached eggs with toast please,” Dami smirks.
“Two kinds of cereal? Aw, Baby Bird, that’s a great idea.”
Tim’s boxers are only slightly noticeable as he throws on a t-shirt, scrabbling to get it down over the scar on his abdomen. “Your wishes are my command,” is muffled through the fabric (Damian’s eyes narrow at the motion, he and Dick exchange another wicked glance promising that scar would be properly attended to later), his eyes still slightly dazed from sleep and their little demonstration, he grins with genuine affection. Taking a knee on the bed, Tim leans over to press a kiss to Dami and then to Dick.
“Be good until I get back. Coffee and breakfast coming your way.”
Watching their third walk out, barefoot, sleep mused, and smiling a gentle smile, Dick turns Dami’s face back toward him and raises a brow. “See?”
Both Dami’s brow raise in the explain, Richard look.
Leaning down to nuzzle their cheeks together, Dick grins again with happiness. “I really do have the best plans.”
The light chuckle against his ear makes everything so worth it.
“I will concede your point this one time since I agree. Timothy has been a positive addition. However, the rest of your plans are in need of review.”
Dick laughs, his heart full. “Oh Baby Bat, once we get done eating, just wait to see what else I’ve got in mind.”
I’m a sucker for people being saved and @fishfingersandjellybabies is with me on DickTimDami. Ah, this is long too.
**
Consciousness bleeds in and out, time slowing down. Each span he knows the heat, the fire, the breaking infrastructure, the smoke is going to kill him if he can’t get out.
(Got the people out, couldn’t get to the bomb in time, but the people will live…)
It’s a good trap. Stellar, really, but fuck, pain in his leg, dislocated shoulder, and who knew what else. All of it spells impending doom. The Joker would seriously be pissed off if something like this killed him (you know, that guy) since he’s always wanted a dead Robin back under his belt since the last one he killed kind of came back, but well, best laid plans…his don’t always have every contingency. Bitter reality here because sometimes they fail and tonight is just that night.
Pulling himself up, gripping his fucked arm, he tries to get up, to wrap his damn cape around himself and get toward a window, something—
The floor above has windows. He has to climb and the fire is getting closer, moving up the walls, devouring everything… And fuck, he’s just so tired, so worn—
“Red.” The voice through his cowl…Dami. “Red, get up.”
Even now, the laugh forcing itself up through his suffering lungs chokes out on a cough, but he manages, “S-sorry…Baby Bat.”
His leg bleeds heavier with his weight, flames singe, heating his gauntlets, his harness while he tries to stumble through the abandoned building deep in the Narrows.
“Red, I will sufficiently kick your ass—“ the purr of an engine in the background.
Not this. More important things…just in case.
“Dami,” he whispers, ducking his face away just in time to avoid the popping of overheated glass, shards shattering around him. “Dami—“
And like the youngest of the Bats knew, “We are on our way, Timothy, Tim, we are almost there. Hold on.”
“…Sorry. Dami I—I’m sorry…about Robin.” He grips the hand holds, needed to get up. “Back then…I was fucked up…wrong…you needed—“
“Stop this, now.” And the cold calm, just like Bruce, shutting away the emotion, focusing on what’s right in front of his face. Damian, you need to understand.
“I was…an asshole,” he wheezes, trying to make his good leg work, to hold his weight, his good arm strains, pulls. “Dick…was right—you—“
“I was a brat,” Dami cuts him off savagely, “I knew nothing of family, Tim. I had no reference, you understand?”
The board gives way under his hand, and Red scrambles, making a half-assed leap through a pillar of fire, holding his breath, hoping he isn’t going to die this way, manages to grip, to pull, to force his body to keep fucking going.
“Should have…Dami, I should have—“
“You will make it up to me,” the younger interrupts, “you will have the time, Tim. Fight.”
He tries to breathe, to keep climbing, to make his numbing fingers work, to ignore the burning metal against his forearms, the soles of his boots starting to melt…
“I have much to atone for as well,” and something in that voice, something so unlike the usual bravado makes Red Robin grit his teeth against the pain and blood loss, makes him strain for the next hand hold, makes him force his battered body to work. “It is hard won, what we have now, and I will not give you up. Either of you.”
“Baby Bat,” and the words are there on the back of his tongue, words he should say in case he might never get another chance—
“Red,” and the soothing deep of Nightwing, making his pounding heart knock that much harder. “Hold on. We’re only a few minutes—“
When Red pulls himself up onto the next floor, he cries out in pain as the shrapnel in his chest and abdomen bite harder with the motion to fold himself over.
“Dick…”
“I’m here, Baby Bird, we’re both here—“
“You need—“ and he pulls himself one-handed, trying to get up on the second floor, “make sure …make sure—“
“Dammit, Tim—“
“Please…” he pants, “Dick, please—“
“I love you,” Dick counters, the words coming so easy, so full of heart and conviction. “And to hell with that, Timmy.”
“I—“
The hard crackling finally draws his waning attention and too late. Red rolls on his back in time for the one of the ceiling braces to give way, to get a forearm up over his face, draw up one leg.
Both of them are yelling in the comm while parts of the ceiling come down and Red is too hurt to move, to run. He coughs, chokes, burns, and bleeds sluggishly, old wood and debris pressing against his chest, pinning him to the floor.
“I wanted…more time,” he wheezes woozy, trying to push the heavy bracings off. His good arm fails, and the pain—
From a few feet away, the window he’d been trying to reach bursts inward with raining glass. Robin must have thrown a batarang to weaken the massive pane.
“Red!”
The crackling above them sounds like lightening—
“Run!” He has enough left in him to yell before the whole thing comes down.
**
Coming to is miserable as fuck, but memory hits enough that Tim jerks up before he even opens his eyes.
Hands are on him and he can’t move his goddamned leg.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Dick is out of the Nightwing wear, just in a soft t-shirt and sweats.
And Tim is gripping Dick’s bicep with one hand since the other arm is obviously bound to his side, “Dick—” and he can’t get a full breath because he’s looking right at Dick. He survived to look up at Dick…
“Yeah,” gingerly, the older man wraps him in a soothing embrace, slightly desperate since he’d come too close to losing—
“Dami?” Tim asks hoarsely against his throat, “the roof came down and—“
“He managed to pull some heavy boards on top the two of you, kept you from being crushed,” the elder replies against the top of Tim’s head, ruffling his hair. The hands are soothing his slightly trembling muscles, the vestiges of adrenaline hitting now that he’s aware.
“Fuck, is he—?”
“Here.” Coming to Tim’s other side, Damian places the cups of coffee down by the medical gurney. The youngest of the Bats is also out of uniform, his eyes intense, taking in Tim’s battered body. Likewise, Tim’s eyes move, searching for bandages, burns, scars—
“I am unharmed,” Dami fills in, “you, however, will be receiving the lecture of a lifetime from Father, Grayson, Todd, and myself. Possibly Pennyworth as well. He is quite…upset, Tim.”
Still held against Dick, Tim flinches a little because Alfred is bad ass any day, but an angry Alfred is run run territory right there.
“There wasn’t time—“ he tries, voice still wrecked from smoke inhalation.
Dick pulls back enough that both of them can give him the patented Bat-glare.
“Not enough time to tap your comm?” Dick raises a brow at him.
Tim just sighs and the sound is pained, exhausted.
Dami’s hand is warm on the back of his neck, “you already agreed to be more open concerning your cases.”
“I know,” and Tim just leans back into their hands a little, eyes falling half-mast. “I had a plan.”
“Not an excuse,” Dick and Damian say in tandem and look up at one another with a softer expressions.
Tim chuffs a laugh, relieved because the damn day is saved and no one died. The only two men on the planet he may kill for are alive and with him. What more could he ask for, really?
“I’m going to let Alfred know you’re awake so we can get you moved upstairs,” Dick leans down while tipping Tim’s chin up. The soft pressure on his mouth is relief and love and so much of an echo of what Tim feels just as strongly, just as resolute.
When Dick straightens, Tim just shakes his head a little, “it’s fine, I can go back to the penthouse—“
“No.” Damian waves Grayson away when the older man looks ready to jump in on this argument. Dick just throws up his hands and heads to the stairs. “You will remain at the Manor until Pennyworth releases you for active duty.”
“Dami—“
“You heard me, Tim. Do not make me regret bringing you coffee.”
The older man’s eyes go wide, “coffee?”
Dami hums a little, gingerly sitting by Tim’s hip on the gurney and picks up the delicate cup and saucer. “Fortunately for you, I am willing to face Pennyworth’s wrath just to sate your addictions.”
“You are totally my hero,” Tim replies solemnly, his free hand slightly trembling when the takes the first sip. Perfect. “So totally my hero, Baby Bat,” followed by another sip and moan of pleasure. Only Alfred and Dami could make his coffee just right, but dammit Dick tries and Tim doesn’t have the heart to tell him cream and sugar when he’s not riding days’ worth of sleep dep.
And Damian watches until the mug is mostly gone before taking it back, but his eyes stay on the older Bat, his expression schooled in neutral lines. Something is churning behind those blue eyes, and Tim automatically readies himself for it.
“When I turned an appropriate age,” Dami’s voice is low, quiet in the echo of the Cave, “Grayson and I had to…agree on certain aspects if our relationship was to function. We could no longer be brothers, you understand? We had to be equals.”
And Tim stays silent, assessing the weight of his words. Some irrational fear rises up in his chest, fighting for precedence over the pain in his wrecked body (this has been coming though, hasn’t it?).
“We should have made the same expectations clear to you when we approached you. This oversight must be remedied immediately.”
“Okay,” Tim replies slowly since, well, this isn’t where he thought Dami would be going. He expected things to fracture apart, for the why don’t we just fight crime together and sometimes chill on the holidays type thing.
“By agreeing to join us, you also agreed to be ours on equal terms. This means you are no longer alone in the Mission. From this moment on, your plans will include communication with us regardless of who or what entity you may be facing. You will give us the opportunity to fight with you.”
Tim slowly blinks, “I—we do fight together, Dami, I mean—“
“You know what I am talking about,” slightly admonishing, but the younger Bat puts the cup and saucer aside to palm the side of Tim’s battered face in one hand. “If you are true in your desires to be with us, then you cease taking on everything alone. You will communicate with us regarding your activities and injuries. Am I making myself clear?”
And his heart because this is one of those moves that is so Damian it makes him ache. He presses into that palm a little more and nods, eyes half-mast and warm. Baby Bat is concerned.
“Do not make light of this,” the younger of the two gets closer. “It is…disturbing how little you trust in us. Grayson has become accustomed to it. I, however—“
“It’s not that,” Tim interrupts gently, looking right up into those eyes, “it’s not a trust thing, Dami.”
The youngest sighs wearily, irritated, “then explain this reasoning to me. I must understand if I am to simply,” Dami’s hands waffle back and forth, “accept this course of action.”
Tim straightens slightly, his good hand reaches out, gripping the youngest Bat’s wrists simply to feel the pulse beat under skin. In a low voice, still with the edge of damage, he lays it all out, “everyone I love, Everyone that’s important to me dies, Damian. They all die. Yes, Kon and Bart and you were saved. Steph and Bruce and Dick weren’t really dead, but the ones that are regular people don’t come back. I…I’ve been the last one standing too many times.”
Blinking, the younger obviously realizes something crucial, something—
“If I can keep you two out of it, then I will. I have before. It might sound stupid since, well, our lives are what they are. We’re all going to die at some point. But, I thought if I can keep it from happening, then I will.”
And a very rare occurrence, Damian’s eyes soften. He sighs deeply, his chest lifting, and wordlessly pulls his beaten partner into his arms, against his chest, and holds on.
