"Harry's going to be here. He's the one who told me about it."
Right. Louis understood better why his friend was so mischievous. Louis bit his lip to hide his smile. The only mention of Harry made his heart beat faster.
"Why should I care if he's there or not ?" he asked, pretending to be nonchalant.
"Stop it," Zayn sighed. "We've seen the way you look at him."
"And how do I look at him?"
"You're drooling."
"Come on, guys, don't you dare say there's nothing to drool on ! Have you seen his arms ? His legs ? His ar-"
"Shut up, Louis !" Liam exclaimed, wincing. We get it."
"It looks like Louis found his target for a good fuck," Zayn giggled, stealing one of Louis' fries.
Louis wrinkled his nose to turn his sunglasses up and swiped his greasy fingers on his shorts. He couldn't help but smile stupidly.
"You're absolutely right," Louis answered. "And what's even better is that he is up for it too."
Or the one where Louis has five days at Glastonbury to listen to good music, have fun, but most importantly, have sex. Falling in love is surely not part of the plan.
you are the taste of something sweet (and i’m tangled in the sheets)
hi i couldnt sleep so i wrote sleepy morning jalex and now i still cant sleep so im posting it. at 6am yes yes move on
this takes place in the same ‘verse as all hung up like i was on you (tumblr link), the fic based on t-shirt by thomas rhett. it might be better to read that first but if u dont feel like it then all u need to know is alex is a middle school teacher, jack has an office job, they are boyfriends yeah that’s all
this is fluffy fluff and i don’t think there are even any tws on it so!! fun for the whole family. (i mean there’s swearing but. at this point it’s a given)
title from holly (would you turn me on?) absolutely chuffed as they say to be finally using that as a title. just totally stoked i cant lie
read it here on ao3
Later, when Alex is more eloquent, he'll say that Jack is golden.
Or, no. More like Jack takes golden light and weaves it into something new, some gleaming…well, something. The point is that later on Alex will have the words, but right now he doesn't.
Right now, he just has the picture, but what a beautiful picture it is.
Jack is still asleep. Alex doesn't fault him, since it's Saturday and he's only just woken up himself, even though the clock has informed him it's half past noon and the sun is already high in the sky. Alex could move. He could get up, pull on some sweats, and shuffle into the kitchen to make some mid-afternoon coffee and brunch (breakfast eaten at lunchtime). Sure. He could.
But God, Jack is so gorgeous.
It's been a little while since Alex has had the opportunity just to watch Jack sleep. He watches Jack whenever he can, watches him shouting at the Orioles on TV (because honestly they could not possibly have chosen a less competent team to back), watches him pore over documents Alex still doesn't quite understand the nature of, watches him when he drives Alex home, windows down, breeze ruffling through his clothes and hair, singing terribly along with whatever early 2000s pop punk song happens to come on shuffle. It's so easy to watch him because there's always something to see; Jack is motion manifested, always on, always shifting like ripples in water, never quite the same on a second glance.
But now, though. Now is special. Moments like these are special, because for once Jack is still, and what a stunning still photograph he makes. Long eyelashes over sharp cheekbones, dark hair contrasted against the white pillowcase, the blanket falling just low enough that his left shoulder is exposed, ink from the tattoo sprawling over tan skin. Alex could drink it in for the rest of his life, and he doubts he'd ever grow tired.
It must be a few minutes, but Alex is happy not to keep track. Eventually Jack stirs, and his eyelids twitch before he opens his eyes, slowly. When his gaze meets Alex's, he smiles, lazily.
"G'morning," he says huskily. The sleep hasn't cleared from his voice. Alex hopes it never does.
"Morning," he answers.
"Time?"
"Don't ask."
Jack breathes a tired laugh at that. "How long you been up?"
Alex feels a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Ten minutes, maybe."
"And you've been just sitting here watching me sleep?" Jack's eyes flutter shut as he smiles. "Creep."
Alex can't help it; he reaches out, fingertips landing on Jack's face, thumb tracing underneath his eye. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs. Jack exhales quietly, happily. "I love waking up with you." Wish I could do it every day, he means.
They haven't discussed it, but maybe it's time they do.
"You're not so bad yourself," Jack says warmly in return, but he doesn't open his eyes.
Alex drags the pad of his thumb down Jack's jaw, then brushes over his cheek with the plane of his index finger, taking his time to trace the outline of the most beautiful face he's had the good fortune of falling in love with. Jack doesn't move, and his halfway smile doesn't waver as Alex smoothes his thumb over Jack's lips. "My Jack," he says softly. In the sanctuary of this morning, from the golden boy at the end of Alex's fingertips to the promise of sunshine and coffee when they finally get up, it's easy to add, "I love you."
At this Jack's smile does grow, and he finally opens his eyes. Alex can't even imagine what he sees. A man too far gone for his own good, probably.
"Wait, say it again," he says. "I didn't get to look at you before."
It's so profoundly Jack that Alex has to swallow back a laugh. "I love you," he repeats, and the words taste like glitter and sunlight and Jack's smile is gold, pure gold.
"I love you too," he says, the most beautiful four-four measure Alex has ever heard, like Jack has somehow figured out a way to twist stardust into language; the shortest love song ever written, just for Alex's ears.
Alex smiles, and he knows he's not half as radiant as Jack when he does, but it's not like he could stop himself. To be in love with Jack is a privilege all by itself; for Jack to be in love with him, Alex thinks he must have been some kind of Odyssean hero in a past life.
"We should get up," Jack finally says, and Alex realizes he's lapsed into silence again, drinking in the sight of Jack once more. "At some point."
"Nah," Alex says. He threads his fingers through Jack's hair and shifts closer, until Jack rolls onto his back and Alex can lean over him, arms braced against the pillow. "I disagree."
"Oh, well, in that case," Jack says dryly, but he hasn't stopped smiling since his eyes opened to meet Alex's.
"We should stay here forever," Alex suggests. He ducks down and presses a kiss to Jack's cheek, and Jack giggles. "We should stay here," and he drops another kiss on Jack's other cheek, "and never go anywhere," his temple, "or see anyone," his nose, "or do anything else forever," and he starts trailing kisses down the line of Jack's jaw.
"We'll both be fired," Jack says pragmatically.
Alex shakes his head. "Don't care. We'll become hermits. I'm pretty sure hermits get a monthly check from, like, Hermits United."
"I think you watch too much Doctor Who."
Somehow this startles a laugh out of Alex, and he pulls away for a moment to look Jack in the face. "But you got the reference, so who's the real geek?"
When Jack laughs this time, Alex feels it vibrate against his lips where he's leaving soft kisses down the line of Jack's throat. "Oh, God. This is my worst nightmare. You've made me a Doctor Who fan." Then, "If anyone was going to corrupt me, of course it would be you."
Alex pulls back again, smiling in the gleaming light of Jack's fond look. "I hardly think Doctor Who is how I'm going to corrupt you. Didn't I just suggest we both get sacked and hole up in your apartment?"
"That's true." Jack skims a hand up Alex's chest and curls his fingers around Alex's neck. "I kinda liked that idea, though. Tell me more."
Alex hums. "Well, I can promise you it will involve a lot of this," and he dips down to kiss Jack on the lips, slowly, intently, savoring every second, committing the taste to memory in case anyone ever asks him what sunlight tastes like.
Jack smiles against Alex's mouth, so Alex moves back just a breath. "I'm convinced," Jack mumbles. His fingernails scratch lightly at the back of Alex's neck, at the ends of his hair. "I'm in. Let's do it."
Alex chuckles and lowers himself down, kissing Jack again with absolutely no intention of stopping, and Jack lets him, and after a moment Alex thinks of something to say that requires breaking the kiss, so he does.
"Move in with me?" he asks.
Jack hums. "You should move in with me," he says. "All your shit is here anyway, and I live closer to your school."
"Sounds like you've thought about it."
"I have," says Jack. "A lot. I've been thinking about it for a long time."
Something about that makes Alex's heart skip a beat. "I'd love to move in with you," he says, a little breathless. "God, I fucking love you."
Jack gazes at Alex, deep, earnest brown eyes as sincere as they'd been the first day they'd met. "Alright, gig's up," he says. "I already said you can move in. You can stop the bribe now."
Alex laughs and hides his face in Jack's neck, barely moving his lips to brush a kiss over his collarbone. "No way, babe. I have weeks of not saying it to make up for."
"Weeks, huh?"
"Yeah, weeks."
"Oh, well. That's alright then." Jack's arms are tight around Alex's neck. "I love you. I'd love you more if you made coffee."
"This love can't be conditional," Alex protests.
"It's not conditional! I'm just saying if you made coffee I'd love you even more."
"Choosing to believe you already love me the maximum amount," Alex says airily, "but I will make you coffee anyway, because I'm that nice."
Jack sighs contentedly. "You know, I always think I love you the maximum amount," he says reflectively, "but then every day I fall more in love with you. So I'm starting to think there might not be a limit."
Alex's heart skips another beat. That might become a problem if it continues. "Holy fuck, that's romantic," he says, because it is, and then, fervently, "Me too, by the way."
He feels Jack giggle. "Well, I woke up and the first thing you did was call me beautiful. I'm just trying to keep up at this point."
Alex wonders how he ever existed without Jack, and he sends up a silent prayer to whoever's listening that he never has to again. He shifts, rolling onto his side and pulling Jack with him, because his arms are getting kind of tired, and affords Jack a grin. "I meant it," he promises. "You are. So gorgeous. I wish I could just look at you forever."
"But then how would you watch Doctor Who?"
Alex laughs. "Good point. I take it back. I wish I could look at you forever except for forty-five minutes twice a week."
"That's more like it." Jack moves to cup Alex's face in his hand, and his smile is so soft, so quiet, something only for Alex to see. "I don't think I mentioned, but you're also beautiful, Alex. You're just." He sweeps his thumb over Alex's cheek. "I wish I knew more words, or more languages, or something, so I could figure out how to say what I'm trying to say."
And Alex thinks maybe he understands, because if it's anything like what Alex has been trying to say then he knows already there are no words for it in any language. It's not something that gets said; it's a feeling, or maybe a moment, and it's in the room right now, settling like a blanket over them both. "I know," he whispers, letting his eyes close, letting Jack lean in and kiss him gently, leisurely, like they have all the time in the world, and maybe they do.
(Sometime later, Alex will find his best approximations for what they're both grasping at right now. It'll start with I remember when I woke up the morning you first told me you loved me, my first thought was, "Wow, this man is golden," and it'll end with I do.)
Damian freezes up when something happens to Dick on a mission and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.
A/N: once again im here with the angst train! action, even like this, is really not my strong point, but i hope this turned out well anyway!
It’s supposed to be an easy mission, swoop in, take care of the bad guys, help the hostages. It is nothing they haven’t done a thousand times before. They have a plan, a good one too. There isn’t even any last-resort contingency plans, it is that straight forward. They have scouted Scarecrows warehouse for days. They have noted his habits, overheard plans - they know what to do. And yet - everything goes to absolute shit. Damian shouldn’t be surprised, considering his family’s ability to mess things up.
The first part goes just as planned. They had without a noise dropped into warehouse from the roof, gone down the rafters, and emerged for the dark. Scarecrow hadn’t suspected the attack, hadn’t seen their on their many visits to the nearby rooftops. The chaos that ensued had been foreseen by Damian and Dick. They had used it to their advantage, just like Bruce had taught them. They had fought swift and hard, with rehearsed moves only capable by two people who know each others fighting style in and out.
Damian is helping some of the victims out of the warehouse, kidnapped by Scarecrows men to use as lab rats for a new brand of fear-gas, when the yelling inside gets louder than it should.
Nightwing is the only one inside with the apprehended criminals, he’d told Damian he would be out in a sec. He was just rounding up the last of the evidence, and making sure everything was alright for when the GCPD got there. Sometimes Damian wonders if they make it too easy for the police. If they have made the Gotham police-men and woman too dependent on the city’s vigilantes. Well, it is too late to do anything about that now.
It had been easy, perhaps too easy, apprehending Scarecrow and his henchmen, Damian thinks as he leaves the victims with a strict “stay here!” and runs back towards the warehouse. He can hear sirens, called in by Dick as soon as they deemed the battle over. Judging by the sound they seem to be only a few blocks down, they aren’t exactly known for being quick on crime scenes.
As he sprints through the big double doors, he hears Scarecrows laughter. The villain is leant against a column, exactly like when Damian had left to escort the hostages to safety. The man is tied to the column with a rope around his upper body with no means to escape. But what catches Damians eyes less than a second later is the used syringe in his hand. There is but a drop of green substance left inside of the vial. How could they have missed the syringe when they searched and tied him up? And why hadn’t they used freaking handcuffs? That’s a huge mistake. Batman will in no doubt be having words with them about it.
From Scarecrow, to the hand with the syringe, his eyes falls on Nightwing. Grayson is on the floor facedown, withering on the ground as in pure agony. He is barely making any sound besides pathetic whimpers. Damian is by his brothers side in seconds. He kicks the syringe out of Scarecrows hand on his way, and is careful not to put his back to the villain as he crouches down beside Grayson.
“N, what’s going on? What hurts?” he asks, his voice sounding frantic, as he turns his brother on his back. Dick’s face scrunches up under the domino-mask, but he gives no answer. There is a small drop of blood on his arm where the syringe must have gone in. Damian carefully brushes a gloved finger over it, his brothers blood sticking to the material of it. The sirens are close, too close. They need to get out of here. It will be a hassle if they are still there when Gotham’s finest arrives.
“Can you stand?” Damian asks, and doesn’t wait for an answer before hauling Dick up on his feet. His brother sways, his knees looking about ready to buckle , as he places a shaking arm over Damians shoulders. Damian wastes no time, even if he has to all but drag his brother through the back door. Once outside he uses his grapnel gun and, painstakingly slow, manages to get them upwards and away from the warehouse. For once, he is thankful for Drake’s mind, and how he’s made the grapnels stronger and able to carry more weight. The GCPD have already breached the warehouse’ doors as Damian hauls the both of them over the edge of a nearby rooftop.
Dick has grown very silent, shaking in Damian’s hands as he helps his brother sit down. There is sweat on both their foreheads. Damian rips his brothers domino mask off, leaving the area around Nightwings eyes red and irritated. Damian doesn’t have time to care about that. He needs to know how bad the toxic substance is affecting Nightwing. They have little to none experience with direct injection of the stuff - it is usually in gas form.
Dick’s pupils look blown wide, and they are darting around in a panicked motion.
Damian curses under his breath and tabs the com in his ears twice,
“Robin, is everything quite well?” Alfred’s voice fills his ears, his calm demeanor not hiding the older man’s worry. Damian is usually not one of calling the cave while out on patrol, or at all, really. Not showing weakness, and all that. He can do fine on his own.
“I need an evac by the warehouse, Nightwing’s down. He’s gotten injected with what I assume is some kind of fear gas in liquid form,” Damian hates how his voice shakes as he explains the situation.
“Batman and Red Robin are on their way,” Alfred answers, “Try to keep Nightwing as calm as possible. If this is a new version of the drug, there is no saying how severe the effects will be. It is impossible to say how he will react,” Alfred continues before adding “He may get violent.”
Damian doesn’t answer, and Alfred switches off with a single beep, most likely to inform Batman further on the situation. Damian can’t imagine what he would do if Grayson attacked him, not in this state.
Below him, Dick has started thrashing as if he is trying to get away from something. He is whimpering something under his breath, words Damian doesn’t manage to pick up. Damian sits down on his knees beside him, putting his arms on Graysons shoulder to hold him down. It is weird and uncomfortable, to see his usually strong brother reduced to this blubbering mess.
Putting his hands on Grayson is a huge mistake. Nightwing goes rabid, thrashing harder then before and looking absolutley terrified. Grayson is yelling, more incoherent words Damian doesn’t understand. They sound terrified, like Richard is in a great deal of pain. It takes more of his power than Damian wants to admit to get his brother to lay down, and then continuing to hold him there. He has to lean all his weight over him.
“P-please let me go!” Nightwing screams so loud it hurts Damian’s hears. Damian prays the GCPD doesn’t hear it over the roccus in the warehouse. The police joining them up on the roof is the last thing he needs today.
Where the hell is Batman and Red Robin?! Damian doesn’t want to, can’t, deal with this alone, because Grayson is crying. Honest, big tears rolling down his red cheeks and he is out of his mind with fear. The older seems to have no knowledge of where he is or what is going. The drug works fast, and it looks like it has fulfilled its purpose. If this drug were to get out on the streets, into the hands of people looking for a thrill, unknowing they are mere experiments of Scarecrow.. Damian shudders with the thought.
Grayson manages to roll out of Damian’s grip. His breath is hitching into hyperventilation and his whole body shaking like a leaf. Damian reaches out to grab him again when -
“Jeez, what the hell happened to you two?” a new voice says from behind them. Damian curses himself and swirls around to face the newcomer. He had been so focused on Grayson, so worried, lost in his own head, that he hadn’t noticed the other presence on the roof. He tries to ignore how behind him Grayson, always so strong and so good at putting on a brave face, is reduced to a ball of anxiety and fear.
Thankfully, it’s only Jason, in full Red Hood gear-up with his arms crossed over his chest staring at them with the helmets visor-eyes.
“Bad case of feargas inhalation?” Jason asks as he moves closer to the both of them, his steps light and oddly careful for the big man.
“No, or yes - kind of,” Damian fumbles with words and that is something he never ever does. His hands are shaking and damn it, he’s supposed to be calm and level-headed and Grayson needs him and -
“Hey, kid, relax, tell me what happened,” Jason, Red Hood, commands, even if his voice still has a hint of softness in it. He’s standing right in front of Damian now, but the helmet betrays that he is looking at the mess that is Dick Grayson behind them.
Damian takes a deep breath, forces his heartbeat to slow down and his thoughts to clear. Reports, commands, that is something he knows, that is something he can do. He takes a deep breath, feeling the cold Gotham air fill his lungs, before he starts explaining.
“We were taking down Scarecrow - actually we had finished up. I was helping some of the victims out of the warehouse, Dick was doing the last round up of evidence, when I heard yelling. I ran back into the warehouse - I see Scarecrow with an empty syringe and well,” Damian turns around and gestures at Dick. “I found Nightwing like this. I’m pretty sure he got injected with some fear-gas in liquid form,” he finishes.
“A strong kind too, judging by Nightwing’s reaction and how quickly it worked,” he adds as a second thought.
Jason nods. Damian stares at the mans red helmet, he always has trouble reading him with his face covered like that. He has no idea what Jason is feeling, or if he is planning on staying to help. He’s been nice lately, better at being with the family. Damian knows both Bruce and Dick have been more happy than they would ever dare to say out loud about it.
Damian forces himself to look at Dick again. His brothers breathing is fast and he is already looking to pale as a consequence of it. His arms clenches around his knees that drawn up to his chest so hard his knuckles turns white. Damian feels glued to the spot, only able to watch his brother fall apart. He.. he doesn’t know what to do.
“What are your injuries, did you get hit with it too?” Red Hood asks, in what is his best Batman imitation. If the situation was different Damian would in no doubt be making fun of him for it. Now though, the words die in his throat.
“You gotta work with me here, brat, did you get hit too?” Jason asks, his voice more alarmed now, more stern, his body more rigid as he towers over Damian.
“No, I.. I don’t think so,” Damian mutters but still - it feels like something is wrong. He has been in countless awful situations before,. He has seen people affected by fear-gas, but there is just.. something about seeing Grayson, his first Batman, so broken that terrifies him, fear-inducing drugs or not.
Jason huffs, but doesn’t try to pry out anymore and instead moves towards Dick, steps filled with caution. He is staying to help then, Damian can’t help but be thankful as he trails behind. He feels more awkward and misplaced then he has in a long time. He wants to help Grayson, with every fiber of his very being, but this? This isn’t some wound to he can press down upon. Not a laceration with bleeding that has to be stopped. This Damian doesn’t know how to deal with. Not when it is his big brother, his first Batman, the strongest person he knows.
“Hey, Dickiebird, you need to calm down or your gonna make yourself pass out,” Jason says as he slowly crouches down in a squat beside their older brother. He moves to put his hands on Dick’s shoulder, to touch him, and Damian remembers -
“Don’t!” he yells, Jason freezes, hands hovering in the air. Dick flinches too and Damian feels bad but - “He panicked, when I touched him before you got here. I tried to calm him down, hold him, but that just made him trash. That’s when he went into full blown panic,” Damian rushes to explain. Jason nods, like he understands. Damian feels fear, masquerading as rage, fill his chest because he doesn’t understand anything. Grayson is the most touchy-feely of all the bats. Damian trying to comfort him should not make things worse.
“I - please, I don’t wanna die,” Grayson pleads, and Damians heart hurts for his brother. He wants to comfort him, but his mouth can’t seem to find the right words, his training isn’t kicking in like it should.
“Hey, Dickhard, you’re not going to die, you’ve just been drugged,” Jason says with a steady voice. Damian can see him trying to get eye-contact with Richard. Damian is unsure if he succeeds or not. Jason is still wearing his helmet and Grayson doesn’t appear to exactly be with them.
“P-please get me out of this,” Dick whispers, voice cracking and eyes shining from unshed tears.
“Dick, Bruce is on his way, we’re gonna get you home and find an antidote. You’re going to be right as rain in no time,” Jason continues comforting Dick. His voice is unusually soft. Jason is using his special voice for victims of horrible crimes, the one he only uses when he thinks no one else is listening in. The special soft side of Jason Todd, saved only for life and death circumstances. That does not help calm Damian down, as he stands completely rooted to his spot a few steps away from his two older brothers.
“No, No - Bruce, you.. you gotta get out, can’t-” Dick voice hitches, and Damian has to look away because he can’t take this, he is not prepared for this. Damian realising that something has happened that never has done before; he has frozen in the field, and he can’t force himself to move.
“I can’t take you with me, Bruce,” Dick continues to cry. Damian can’t see Jason’s face, doesn’t see his reaction to being called Bruce, but Damian doubts it’s any good. Where the hell is their father anyway? Grayson needed him to be there minutes ago!
“No one is going anywhere, okay? You gotta-, crap, you gotta breath, man,” Jason soothes and Damian forces himself to look at the two. Dick is hyperventilating again, arms still cradled around his torso, one hand resting over his heart. He doesn’t look like he is able to say anything more, even if he wants too. Jason’s hands are hovering slightly above Dick’s shoulders. Damian’s warning is probably fighting in his mind over the instinct to touch, to hug Dick, because that usually always works. It’s supposed to be the remedy of everything considering the black and blue clad man.
Dick’s lips are turning blue, his eyes are wide open and wild, seeing horrors Damian can’t imagine.
“Try to-, hey, what about counting, that helps right? Come on, lets try counting - just focus, 1.., breathe in now,” Jason’s voice is turning more panicked by the second. Dick isn’t listening to him, isn’t breathing in on the count of one, not holding for two and breathing out at three.
“Richard! You stubborn- you need to fucking breath man!” Jason is yelling and this time Damian flinches too at the same times as Dick. What happens next makes Damian’s heart feel like it is bursting out of his chest. He can only watch as Dick flinches, his eyes rolls up in his head showing only the whites, and goes completely limp. It is terrifying. He has seen his brother passed out many times, it is a given in their line of work, but never like this.
If it weren’t for Jason sitting by his, Dick would have fallen from his crunched up position straight into the hard concret of the roof. Instead, Jason’s arms are quick to catch their falling brother. Even if his moves are clumsy and awkward, he manages to safely gather the older in his arms.
“Is, Is he-” Damian can’t make himself ask, he feels like he’s on the verge of having a panic attack himself.
“No,” Jaso snaps, finally turning to look at Damian, “I think he just passed out from all the hyperventilation.”
Damian knows Jason tries to sound sure of himself, like everything will be alright, but Damian knows the man enough to pick out the doubt in his voice. He can’t stop his brain from thinking about all the what ifs. He is not prepared to lose anyone else.
“Will you get over here and help me keep him stable?” Jason hisses. His helmet is off now, laying beside him, and he is sporting some serious helmet-hair, it is sticking out to every angle. Damian doesn’t know when he took it off, too captured by his own thoughts.
“Today, would be good!” Jason yells.
It shocks Damian into moving again, his legs heavy as logs as he moves to sit down beside his unconscious older brother. He can already feel the embarrassment for how he for the last minutes have stood frozen, acted like nothing else but a scared child, creep up his neck. His face feels warm, it’s most likely red too, and not only from the stressing situation.
Together they lay Dick completely horizontal, he is completely out of it, not making a sound. Jason has taken his own jacket off, and balled it up as good as he can to make a makeshift pillow. Damian holds Richard’s head up as Jason slides it under.
Damian puts his hand over Dick’s wrist, feels the pulse, “it’s too fast,” he comments. He meets Jason’s gaze, the older is biting his lip.
“It must be the toxin. Being scared to death does that to you-” Jason says, and then adds “-Not that, that he is going to die, you know, Dick is strong. It’s a figure of speech,” when he sees what probably is Damian’s very very alarmed face. The words come out jumbled and rushed, telling him that Jason feels ruffled by the situation too. Damian isn’t ready to lose Grayson, not again, not because of some stupid mistake.
There is a slight woosh of air, the sound of fabric over stone and - “Oh god, is he alright?” Tim squeaks. Damian turns, and sees both Drake and father making their way over, their steps quick. Judging by the thin line fathers mouth is forced into, he isn’t happy.
“What happened?” father asks, as he crouches down in a similar position as Damian. He takes his gauntlets off and throws them to the side. His big hands clasps around Dick’s wrist, much like Damian did earlier, feeling for Richard’s pulse.
Jason is looking at Damian. When it comes apparent to him that Damian isn’t going to answer, isn’t going to tell Batman how he completely froze up, panicked, didn’t do anything at all to help Grayson - he huffs.
“The drug’s strong alright, my guess as to why he passed out is that he, well, hyperventilated himself out,” Jason says. He then shrugs, trying to come off as nonchalant now that Bruce is here to take over the situation. Jason seems to be relieved Batman has arrived to relieve him of being the only responsible adult present. Not that he would ever admit that.
Bruce has somehow conjured a flashlight from his utility belt. He reaches over and forces one of Dick’s eyes open with two fingers, shining into it with the flashlight in his other hand. He then does the same for the other eye. He doesn’t comment about what he sees, which Damian tells himself has to be a good sign.
“Kept yelling about dying, and uhm -” Jason voice trails off. Damian bets fathers eyebrows are raised behind the cowl.
“And what?” he growls.
“He kept, talking about you, about not taking you with him?” he phrases it more like a question. Jason doesn’t understand Graysons rambling either, but Batman nods like he does. Though true to his Batman-self, father doesn’t give any comment as to why Dick would be having such drug-induced hallucinations.
“We have to get him to the cave, we have to study his bloodwork to find an antidote. It’s too risky using the ones we have pre-made for the gas. We don’t know how it will work on injections,” Tim says, breaking the silence that has fallen over the four bats.
“The quicker the better, we can’t be sure of the consequences of the drug, we don’t know the long time effects..” Tim’s voice trails off.
Father is already scooping Dick up in his arms, they all pretend to not notice how his knees seems to pop quite audibly. Richard may be on the short side, but he is still pounds of muscle and father isn’t getting any younger.
“There is a door that leads to a staircase right over there, if we’re lucky the building may even have an elevator,” Tim says. He doesn’t look up from the schematics brought up on his holo-computer that he wears on his wrist. He points towards the single door on the roof.
Father, with Dick securely in his arms, is already moving for the door. Tim walks a few steps ahead. Grayson’s head is hanging over fathers armour-clad arm, lolling with Batman’ steps. His face is completely slack, and his mouth slightly open. Both Damian and Jason fall back to walk behind them.
“It’s okay to get scared,” Jason says out of the blue. Damian keeps his eyes on the floor. From the corner of his right eye he can see that Jason isn’t looking at him either. He has put the helmet back on again now, and is looking straight ahead. Damian prays father can’t hear him, but Damian is usually never that lucky.
“It’s still dangerous to freeze up like that though,” Jason continues. Damian opens his mouth to argue that he did not freeze, even though he did when, but before he has the chance Jason speaks again. “You were lucky I was nearby and Alfred notified me. What if the drug made Dick try to hurt you?”
Damian doesn’t have an answer to that. Jason falls quiet for a few seconds, like he is contemplating something.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Both Dick and I know from experience that nothing good comes out of that. You’re still just a kid. Considering everything, this wasn’t the worst mission to freak out on,” he finally says after too many seconds of uncomfortable silence.
“Todd, I am not a child-” Damian starts, but without looking at him Jason lifts a hand, stopping him. The degrading gesture makes rage spark up in Damian again. They are following father and Tim down the stairs now. There wasn’t any elevator, not to anyone surprise, it seems to be an old building they have landed themself on. Father is grunting now and again from the strain as he carries Grayson, who is still out cold, down the multitude of stairs.
“Yes, you are, brat. Just shut up. I’m not gonna say anything more on the matter, or anything like this ever again. I’m only saying it because Dickhead would kill me if he realises I let you go home with the bat without talking to ya. We all mess up sometimes,” Jason finishes. Before Damian can respond, a poisonous remark already on his tongue, Jason picks up his pace. The older is almost racing down the stairs to catch up with the two other bats.
Damian continues to trail behind. He has already done enough damage, and he is for sure not up for another lecture, not from any of his family. All he wants is to go home, grab Titus and lay under his bed covers.
If he could, he would go out looking for the last of Scarecrows men who wasn’t at the warehouse, but he knows father will never allow it. It would be foolish to stir up even more roccus now by sneaking away.
Besides, he wants to be by Richard’s side when he wakes up. He at least owes him that much, after the enormous failure that tonight has been. He needs Grayson to know that he is there for him. That he isn’t the emotionally stunted child everyone else assumes he is. That he is not a coward that freezes in the sight of trauma.
He vows himself that it will never happen again, he’s supposed to have full control of his emotions . He is an Al Ghul after all, no matter what father says. If there is one thing his mother taught him those years he stayed with her, it was to keep his emotions in check. Today he failed miserably. It could have been disastrous. He has no room for failure, and failure certainly doesn’t earn him any respect with his family. He already has enough trouble fitting in, without messing up like he did today.
The mistake almost cost him Grayson, and that is a price Damian never could live with paying.
“Oh my god,” Zayn says, rolling her eyes and standing up. “You do know what this means, right?”
“Yes?” Harry tries, looking up pathetically and hoping Zayn will take pity on her.
“This means she doesn’t even need the fabric she buys from you every other week,” Zayn says slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “She doesn’t come here for the fabric. She comes here for you.”
Harry works at her family’s fabric store sometimes and always sells the most interesting fabrics to Louis. Louis is the wannabe fashion designer who keeps buying fabric she doesn’t necessarily need just to find a way to talk to Harry.
You are in luck my friend, this is from fic #3 which is currently named “church comeback because it's what we deserve” (this one will come out on the 1st)
“ ‘As far as I know the church does not have anything against this kind of dirty.’
He winks.
He actually dares to wink.”
send me a word and I have to share a snippet with that word or add it to one of my fics
