Hey, so I was watching JL animated, and Batman canonically has an amazing singing voice that he hides, right? What if each Batfamily member or JL member has this treasured secret moment where they catch him singing? What if one of them has the courage to sing too? What if that's Clark and Bruce's glorious bass-baritone is finally complimented by the perfect tenor?
Dick stirs, fever blurring his senses as he's dragged back to consciousness by the roiling feeling in his stomach. It rushes up, he lurches to the side, and throws up into the bucket. A hand swipes his fringe back, a smooth barritone hushes him gently, and he's guided back to sink into his mountain of pillows.
That same smooth, deep voice rumbles in his ear, a warm body sliding onto the mattress to press close to him, tucking him close, and the words aren't quite words, his fevered mind can't process them, but he hears that rhythmic hum, that gentle song in his ear, and sinks into the warmth cuddled around him, encouraged back into slumber by the voice.
Years on, as Dick processes the poison in his system, and Bruce holds his fringe back, and lies alongside him in bed, he wishes Bruce would sing. He doesn't, and Dick doesn't ask, but the urge doesn't leave either.
"Won't you sing for me again, Bruce?" Diana asks one day, on monitor duty.
"Diana," he rumbles, a warning, and she frowns.
"Very well." She knows he hears the bitterness in her tone, but neither of them address it. She leans back in her chair, and thinks back to that day where he sang in front of everyone to charm the witch into undoing the hex.
She years to hear that song again, but the tense line of Bruce's shoulders tell her it won't happen.
Damian leans into his mother's side, and breathes in her jasmine perfume as her hair wafts over his face. "Mother. Did you sing to me as a child?"
"Hm? No, my love, you know I cannot sing."
"She can make ears bleed, though," Father says encouragingly, then dodges her smack towards his legs, winking at Damian as he carries their tea tray back into the manor.
Damian pulls his lip between his teeth, running his tongue over the thin skin, tasting an echo of the strawberry jam from his scone. "Then why can I remember..."
Mother's lips descend on his forehead. "There are some things your Father did once, that he does not often do now. That is one of them."
An idea sparks. Mother quickly blows them out, anticipating his response and beating him out to give her own. "And I should not think you will approach him about it, Damian," she says warningly. "That is a boundary you will not push."
Damian thinks of the smooth melody of his memories, buried deep in that fugue of youth, and sighs. He yearns to hear it sung clearly, not the ghosts of half-lyrics faded over time.
kianamaiart
origamiaround
dededos
stormborns
dailybridgerton
