#Tim looks at college level physics questions on his arms as a kid and is like ‘must be a pop quiz’ and then solves them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redrobinfection · 4 years

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(16) Graveyard

SociallyAwkwardFox’s Spooktober (2018) - Day 16 “Graveyard”

~*~

"How about four out of seven?" Tim asked with a shrug, winding up the toilet paper roll again.

Damian, his fellow barista, threw his roll at Tim's head, missing wildly. He glared. "You cheated, Drake!"

Tim rolled his eyes as he retrieved Damian's roll and began winding it up too. "How could I cheat at coffee cup bowling, ‘Wayne’?"

"You wind your roll too tightly. It doesn't unravel as much when you pitch it and thus has more mass by the time it hits the cups."

Tim raised his eyebrows. "What are you now, a physics major? That just sounds like strategy, dude. You are free to roll your roll as tightly as you'd like. That isn't against the rules."

Damian fumed. "The rules you made up! This is why I said we should use the rice crispy ba--customer."

Tim whirled on the spot, seeing that, indeed, a paying customer had entered their little, semi-enclosed coffee shop. Outside, a few students sat or sprawled over the sectional couches that filled the large basement of the university student union in which the shop was located.

Tim turned and vaulted over the counter. He heard a quiet "-tch-" from Damian as he walked to the hinged raise-able section of the counter and let himself in.

Tim straightened his apron and stepped up the register with a smile. The customer stood about five feet from the register, head tilted back, studying the menu board over Tim's head with bleary eyes. The guy was like a zombie, he was that exhausted. Tim cut his eyes over to the clock on the wall. 3:45 am. Hell of a time for coffee.

Tim glanced over his shoulder at Damian, who was reawakening the cranky espresso machine with deft fingers. Seven hours and forty-five minutes with Damian "the Demon " Wayne down, only four hours and fifteen minutes to go. Tim turned back to their customer and sighed. This was going to be a loooooooong morning.

At second glance, there was something familiar about the guy, but Tim couldn't put his finger on where he knew him. The guy had pretty teal eyes, but they were reddened and dull, like he hadn't closed them except to blink in way too long. He was also pretty well cut, Tim noticed, with clearly muscled arms and pecs so defined that Tim could clearly see them through the man's sweater. Maybe that's how Tim knew him? Maybe he'd seen him in the UREC weight room?

The guy's most eye-catching feature by far was the white forelock that curled down over his forehead. He was the third person Tim had met to have a whitened forelock like that; the other two were fraternal twins who had had small patches of albinism right at their widows peaks which affected both the skin and hair. Tim idly wondered if this guy's white lock was natural too. In any case, it looked frickin' cool, a lot cooler than his own; the best thing he could say about his own hair was that he could pull off the 90's curtain cut plus semi-mullet well enough that he could go an entire semester on a single haircut.

Tim was drawn out of his thoughts when dude finally stepped up to the counter and began to speak.

"Uh, hi, could I get a large, double-shot caramel latte?"

"Absolutely. How many pumps of caramel do you want?" Tim asked cheerily.

The guy looked up from digging through his overly stuffed messenger bag. "Uhh…the normal four should be fine."

"Okay, that will be $6.47. Can I get a name for the order?"

The guy didn't look up this time. "Uh, Jason. Gimme a sec', I know my wallet is at the bottom of this thing somewhere."

"No problem, take your time. It's not like we have a line, anyway," Tim joked.

This guy looked so dead right now--inside and out--that if he didn't find his wallet, then Tim would probably just buy the coffee for the guy himself. He understood better than anyone the sudden need for caffeine at odd hours of the day. He's not sure how he would have finished half his computer science projects this term without a much-needed double-espresso every couple of hours, to be honest.

The guy--'Jason' apparently--finally fished out a small money clip then handed over a student ID card. "Put it on my Dining Dollars, please."

"Yeah, no probl- wait a minute!" Tim cut off, staring. Suddenly, it had hit Tim where he knew this guy. "Aren't you that kid who always sits at the front of Professor Hyatt's nine-fifteen, Tuesday-Thursday, Modern European Literature and answers all the questions?"

The dude raised an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah. Why…? Wait…" He squinted and leaned in. "Aren't you the kid who once tried to sit all the way back in the AV booth, since, and I quote, 'the back wasn't far enough back'?"

Tim grinned as he swiped the ID card through the register. "Haha, yeah."

Damian moved as if to step up to the counter, the guy's drink in hand, but stopped dead about a foot away. He stared.

"Wait. Aren't you the guy who always comes in, gets tea, and sits in the window over there and reads romance novels?" Damian asked, eying him appraisingly.

The dude huffed. "Yes. My name is Jason--by the way--and they're not romance novels, it's classic lit. Now can I get my coffee?"

Damian handed the coffee over the counter, but raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You mean to tell me Rebecca is not a romance novel?"

"Wait, what!? Do you mean Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca?" Tim asked as he handed Jason's ID card back over the counter.

Damian nodded wordlessly. Tim snorted, then said, "That's not a romance! That's a totally a murder mystery! You must be confusing it with Jane Eyre. I get those mixed up too."

Jason nodded in agreement, tucking his ID away before taking his first sip of coffee. He moaned, his eyes fluttering for a moment as he savored in the sweet bliss of piping hot caffeine at 3:49 in the morning, then he looked at Damian and said, "Well, actually, I'll give you that one, uh…" --he paused to squint at Damian's name tag-- "...'Damian'; Rebecca is a modern romance novel by classification, but it's also a crime thriller just like--whazzatsay?--'Tim' said."

He turned to Tim. "I'm not surprised you'd confuse it with Jane Eyre, considering that a lot of scholars believe du Maurier adapted it from Jane Eyre."

"Wait, really?" Tim said with a laugh. "I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking that! Rebecca is like the less boring version of Jane Eyre."

Jason froze halfway into sitting down in one of the arm chairs that lined the wall closest to the door and looked up at Tim as if he had just suggested burning down the library or something similarly unthinkable. "Whaaaaaat?! I can't believe you just implied that any of the Brontë sisters' works is boring!"

Tim laughed again. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I was only twelve when I read Jane Eyre, so maybe I'd enjoy it more if I read it again now--with a mature perspective--but I remember Rebecca being a blast for thirteen-year-old me so…" He smiled, then shrugged.

Jason stared. "Twelve? Thirteen? Jeez. What else were you trying to read that young?"

"I mean, I read Moby Dick the year before that, in sixth grade," Tim admitted, shrugging until his shoulders hit his ears.

Jason gave him a flat stare. "Moby Dick? Moby fucking Dick? You've gotta be kidding me. And lemme guess, you also thought Herman Melville's masterpiece was a load of crock?"

Tim laughed, but shook his head and waved his hands placatingly. "No, no, no. I only understood, like, every fifth word--so.many.whaling.terms!--and it took me four months to get halfway in only to realize there was no way I was going to finish it by the end of the school year--I ended up skipping to the end and guessing for a lot of the AR test questions--but I definitely got the sense that it was a seminal work and that I was just too young to appreciate it. I've always meant to go back and try it again, but I still haven't gotten around to it."

"Why the hell were you trying to read Moby Dick at the age of twelve?" Jason asked incredulously, leaning back in the chair and taking a long sip of his coffee.

"Eleven, but, ah, well, my mom was convinced I had to be The BestTM in everything, so she pushed me to max out my Accelerated Reader level by the end of sixth grade and demanded that I always get the most AR points of anyone in my class, so I read a lot of the 20 point-and-up books." Tim tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I think Moby Dick was 47 points...Rebecca was 25...Jane Eyre was 33..."

Jason stared, shaking his head slowly. "So…what? You're fine with Moby Dick, a romance of the American Renaissance, but a gothic romance of the British Victorian era like Jane Eyre isn't good enough for you? Next you'll try to tell me you think Wuthering Heights is a snooze fest!"

"Well, I mean, I never could get into it, so…"

Jason slammed both hands down on the arms of his chair, incensed. "Okay, Mister, get your butt over here and sit down, we need to have a talk about Victorian Gothic and why, hands down, it is some of the best literature ever written."

Tim laughed again, then bit his lip, considering the offer. He glanced around the nearly empty coffee shop. Then he leaned over the counter and looked out into the lounge--there were exactly four people there and only one of them wasn't completely asleep in their books. Yeah, he could probably afford to humor the man.

He turned to Damian. "Hey, Dames, I'm going to make myself a coffee and take my break. You good to hold down the fort?"

"I told you not to call me that," Damian snapped, but there was no real heat to it; he liked to pretend that he hated the guts of all his coworkers, but Tim knew that he was Damian's favorite. "However, yes, I think I can manage. Go take your damned break, but when you come back I fully expect a rematch in bowling…and don't you dare cheat this time!"

Tim rolled his eyes and groaned, then turned toward trying to coax Ol' 'Spressolino--their affectionate name for the cantankerous espresso machine--into spitting out a double-shot for him. "It's not cheating, but fine, we'll do it your way," Tim replied. "But I'm telling you, you have to buy those rice crispy balls. I definitely don't want to have to explain to Barbara why some of the food on sale looks like it went through the spin cycle in a dorm washer."

Damian grinned smugly. "My pleasure. It will be a small price to pay in order to ensure your swift defeat."

Tim shook his head, grabbed his espresso in one hand and two biscotti off the front counter in the other, ducked under the counter drawbridge, then slid into the armchair across from Jason. He offered one of the biscotti to the other man and Jason accepted the free food with an appreciative smile. He already looked ten times less zombie-like, thanks to the caffiene, and he was honestly pretty damn attractive.

"Okay," Tim said, peeling the wrapper off his own biscotti and dunking it into his bitter cup of joy, "Educate me."

Between sips of coffee and bites of biscotti, Jason began explaining his thoughts on the romantic period of literature, but barely a minute into his lecture, a plastic-wrapped, ball-shaped rice crispy treat about the size of a cantelope whizzed by their feet and crashed into the ten extra-large paper coffee cups arranged in a bowling triangle at one end of the coffee shop, scattering them in a definitive strike.

Jason jumped in his seat and looked around wildly. "What the fuck?"

Tim sighed. "Daaaaaaamiaaaaaaan…"

"Shut up, Drake! I'm practicing. I need to hone my skills and adjust my form so I can thoroughly crush you in our next round," Damian called back. He marched from the counter to the end of the shop to retrieved his plastic-wrapped projectile.

Jason blinked in confusion. "I repeat: what the ever-loving fuck?"

Tim sighed again, then explained, saying, "It gets pretty boring in here during the graveyard shift, so we invented a game, coffee cup bowling. Normally, we'd sleep or study, but Damian finished his exams two days ago and I don't really study for exams, per se-"

"And sleep is for the weak," Damian finished, nodding as he walked past them carrying his sweet, gooey ammunition.

Tim nodded sagely, in agreement. "Sleep is for the weak."

Jason glanced over Tim's shoulder at the coffee cup bowling 'pins' and then over his shoulder at Damian as he lined up another throw. "You guys are insane," he declared.

Tim made a dismissive gesture. "I mean this is my third graveyard shift in a row and Damian here is almost 20 hours into a 24-hour stint. After that much sleep deprivation, you'd lose your sanity too."

Jason tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Fair enough."

"If you want, you're welcome to join us after we finish our coffee and literature talk," Tim offered amiably.

Jason watched as Damian threw another strike, sending one cup so far it landed in the pot of the ficus in the corner, and raised his eyebrows. "You know what…why not." He turned back to Tim with a grin. "I could use a bit of fun before I go back to work on my Native American Lit paper."

"Are you a lit major?" Tim asked curiously.

"I am."

Tim nodded. "That makes sense."

"And you?"

"I'm a CS major--computer science."

"That makes sense," Jason echoed, grinning.

Tim grinned back at him and waved a hand. "Okay, so as you were saying…?"

"Yes, as I was saying…"

Jason continued his little lecture while they continued sipping their coffee and nibbling on the biscotti. When they had finished--the coffee, not the discussion, because Tim was pretty sure Jason would go on for hours about literature once you got him started--they joined Damian in a game of "ten-cup."

It was in the middle of this heated battle of cups and marshmallow-bonded puffed-rice cereal balls that their next customer found them fifteen minutes later. The man, dressed in flower printed leggings and a black hoodie with "Gotham University Aerial Arts" printed across the chest in blue, took one look at them and grinned.

"Oh, hey! Coffee-cup bowling! I love that game! Do you think I could interrupt you guys for just a sec to get some hot chocolate?"

All three of them--the two baristas plus their customer--turned and stared.

"Hot… wait, what?" Jason said, laughing a little. "Man, it's like 4:30 in the morning. Why are you getting a hot chocolate at 4:30 in the morning?"

The man laughed, too, shrugging before he explained, saying, "I don't like tea or coffee all that much, but I just finished a 20 page paper on ethics in police enforcement and I need a pick me up. I need to get my warm fuzzies going again."

Tim rolled his eyes and sighed, moving back toward the counter to get the man his drink. "You're going to end up being the cuddliest cop on the street, Dick."

"You know it, Timmy!" the man--'Dick' apparently--exclaimed, pulling Tim into a bear hug when he made the mistake of passing too close to Dick on his way to the counter. The hug escalated into a full on octopus hug as he lifted his legs to wrap around Tim's hips. Tim, for his part, ignored the grapple, opening the leaf in the counter and hobbling over to the drink bar with the human cephalopod still attached.

Damian and Jason stared. Damian cleared his throat and eyed Dick with poorly disguised interest. "Wait, do you know this man, Drake?"

Tim blinked dully as he turned around, a cup in one hand and a packet of instant hot chocolate in the other. "Yes. He's my brother." Dick made a squeeing noise and nuzzled his head into Tim's neck. Tim sighed. "My adopted brother," he amended testily.

Dick laughed, dropped his feet back onto the floor and stood up. He nearly wrung Tim's neck as he tried to hug him around the shoulders. "Awww, don't be like that, Tim. We haven't seen each other in two whole weeks and I needed my Tim-hugs! Gotta meet my cuddle-quota."

Tim shook his head and handed the hot chocolate back over his shoulder. "You're insufferably, insatiably clingy when you're this tired, Dick. Go home and sleep."

Dick finally released him to take the drink. He took a sip of the hot chocolate, sighing in appreciation. "Thanks, Tim, and yeah, but, only if you do the same. You're just as bad as me when you haven't slept, if not worse."

"Can't. Working," Tim answered curtly, vaulting the counter to escape before Dick's grabby hands could reach for him again. His brother wasn't wrong; Tim was always up for a good cuddle after a long stint without proper sleep, but he didn't like public displays of affection.

Dick took one look at the nearly empty coffee shop, the three of them, their game, and then laughed out loud. "Ahhh, the days of getting paid to drink coffee and make up games at 4:30 in the morning. I kind of miss it."

"Would you care to join us," Damian asked abruptly. Dick brightened.

"Absolutely!"

And so that was how the four of them ended up bowling for empty coffee cups with rice crispy treats the size of spaghetti squash while blasting ABBA’s greatest hits--Dick's terrible, wonderful idea--until the sun rose and their shift ended, at eight AM.

By the time the four of them walked out the door, Dick was trying to convince Damian to join him in the aerials gym before breakfast, and Damian, clearly eager to do anything with the handsome college senior, accepted readily. Jason and Tim, on the other hand, were back to discussing literature over coffee--now focused on the merits and downfalls of contemporary science fiction and fantasy as an art form--and making their way to the East Campus Dining Hall, so they could continue their discussion over breakfast.

Tim snorted softly as he listened to Jason list all the ways Dune defined an era of sci-fi/fantasy, then smiled at the way Jason took his hand--without seeming to realize it--to pull him forward after the crosswalk light changed out of Tim's line of sight. Oh, yeah, this one was totally gay/bi/pan and he was definitely asking him out the minute he saw the opportunity, Tim decided.

He smiled. Who would of thought he'd come out of last night's graveyard shift not only having seen his demon coworker and his older brother hit it off--of all things!--but having met someone for himself too! He laughed, thinking, you never know what crazy things you might see, or the people you might meet, at the campus coffee shop at 4 o' clock in the morning!

#my writing #christmasriverswrites #jaytim #dickdami #tim and damian #pre-relationship #college au #no capes #new for 2020!#barely edited; life is rough right now 🙃

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dccomicsimagines · 7 years

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Fitting In - Batfamily x Reader - Part Three

Part One Part Two

Requested by Anon - It's a few years later and the reader is going on her first date and the over protective batboys + Batman meet him at the door. Maybe the boy brakes her heart or something at the end and the boys are peed

Requested by Anon - a part 3 where she goes on date with a boy and bruce and the boys become overprotective then the boy hurts her in some way and the go full out rampage on him

***

It all started in your Advanced Physics class. You were sitting at your desk, going over your notes before class started. The bullying and gossiping you used to face daily died down as your classmates got used to having a Wayne in their classes. However, most of them still avoided you.

Therefore, when one of the cutest boys in class, Mark, came up to you, you didn’t expect anything.

“Hey (Y/N),” Mark greeted. You jumped a little at the sound of his voice. Nobody really talked to you at school. “What’ya doing?”

“Oh, I...I’m just going over my notes,” you replied with a tiny smile. You wondered if he was going to ask you a question about the homework or the upcoming test.

“That’s cool,” he said, smirking at you. You felt butterflies in your stomach. “So, do you have anything going on Saturday night?”

You studied him for a moment, trying to see what he was up to. “Oh, nothing. I’m probably going to hang out at home. Why are you asking?” Mark winked at you, sending a thrill up your spine.

“Well, if you weren’t doing anything, I was wondering if you would want to see a movie with me on Saturday?” He grinned at you, leaving you a little lightheaded. You struggled to reply, stuttering for a moment before giving him a tiny smile.

“Sure, it sounds like fun,” you answered, biting your lip to try to keep yourself together. The moment was so surreal, your heart was threatening to burst from the excitement. You thought this sort of thing only happened in movies.

“Great,” he smoothed, winking at you again. “Can I have your number?” You nodded as he dug into his pant’s pocket to pull out his phone. When he handed it to you, your fingers touched, electrifying your skin. You took a deep breath before typing your name and cell number into the new contact.

Handing the phone back, you found a silly smile on your face. You fought to control it as he smiled back at you.

“I’ll give you a call then,” he added, smirking at you before walking towards his seat on the other side of the room. You nodded, mouthing yes since your voice failed you. Pinching your arm, you hoped this wasn’t a dream.

Shaking your head, you tried to focus back on your notes only to find your mind and body buzzing. You had been asked out for your first date by one of the cutest boys in class. When the teacher finally started class, you couldn’t pay attention. You kept sneaking glances over at Mark. Mark made similar eyes at you. Nevertheless, physics was the last thing on your mind.

***

You were curled up on the couch, watching a TV show while working on your homework. Every few seconds, your phone would buzz with a new message from Mark. He was being quite charming. Currently, the two of you were debating about what movie to see on Saturday.

“Who are you texting?” You jumped when Dick appeared behind you, peeking over your shoulder at your phone.

“Stop it,” you warned, covering your phone with your hand. Dick hopped over the couch, plopping down next to you. You remembered Bruce had said Dick was visiting for the weekend.

“Seriously (Y/N), who are you texting?” Dick asked again, trying to steal your phone. You quickly stuffed the phone down your shirt, knowing he wouldn’t try to grab it there. Dick glared at you. “I see you’re playing dirty.”

You rolled your eyes, going back to your homework. “I’m allowed to text people without you snooping,” you argued, frowning when your phone buzzed again. Dick gave you pointed look as you resisted the urge to reach for your phone.

“Are you going to get that?” Dick questioned, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You narrowed your eyes, trying to finish a tricky question on your homework.

“No,” you answered. Dick focused back on the TV. You waited a few seconds before secretly taking out your phone to text Mark back. Right when you were about to type an answer, it disappeared from your hand. “Dick, give it back!”

“So, who’s Mark?” Dick teased, jumping over the couch to get away from you. He skimmed through your messages as you scrambled after him. Your homework fell to the floor, completely forgotten. Dick ran out of the room with you giving chase.

“Dick, give me back my phone!” You screamed as you chased Dick through the house. The two of you ran passed Tim, spinning the poor guy around until he collapsed.

“(Y/N) is texting a boy,” Dick sang, running into Bruce’s office. Bruce was working at his desk, glancing up with disapproval when Dick sprinted in.

You ran into the office after Dick, gasping for breath. “Dad, make Dick give me back my phone.”

“Richard, why do you have (Y/N)’s phone?” Bruce asked, going back to his paperwork. Dick placed the phone on top of Bruce’s paperwork. Bruce glanced at the phone, raising an eyebrow.

“(Y/N) is texting a boy, and he wants to take her out on Saturday,” Dick informed smugly. You growled at him, making him smile at you cockily.

Bruce picked up the phone, glancing through your messages. You widened your eyes, not believing your father was invading your privacy. “Please stop looking through my messages.”

“You haven’t mentioned anything about a boy,” Bruce said, setting your phone down to study you. “In fact, you haven’t said anything about friends at school.”

“Are you kidding me? Are we really talking about this?” you cried, burying your face into your hands. This was the first time you texted someone from school on a social level, and you didn’t want to ruin it. Part of you felt like this entire event was surreal enough, and talking about it made you think about how unlikely it was that Mark asked you out.

“When were you going to tell us about this boy?” Bruce asked sharply. You sunk into one of the armchair in front of the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you hid your face behind your thighs.

“Come on, (Y/N). Spill,” Dick prompted, walking around to sit on the arm of your chair.

“You are the worst,” you sneered at him. Bruce cleared this throat, drawing your attention back to him. Your father’s hard stare forced the words out of you. “He just asked me out today, and we haven’t decided on the details.”

Bruce slowly nodded, narrowing his eyes. Your phone buzzed again. Bruce opened the message much to your despair. “Is this date going to be supervised?”

An irritated sigh escaped your lips. Tim silently entered the room as you answered. “I don’t know! We were talking about it when Dick stole my phone!”

“(Y/N), calm down,” Bruce scolded, standing up with your phone in hand. He walked over, towering above you. “I want to meet this boy.”

“No,” you snapped, standing up to point a finger in his face. Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Why are you making such a big deal about this? A guy just asked me out. I don’t see why you’re acting like this.”

“You’re a Wayne, and people will take advantage of you. You have to be careful, (Y/N), or you might get hurt,” Bruce explained, his gaze softening when he recognized a familiar rage on your face. Bruce sighed, realizing you seemed to have inherited his temper.

Tears of frustration burned your eyes. You fought to keep them back, but you knew you couldn’t do it for long. “I can’t talk about this right now.” Snatching the phone from his hand, you marched out of the room. You brushed passed Tim on your way out.

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. Dick studied Bruce as Tim approached the two. “I didn’t think (Y/N) would get so upset,” Dick mumbled guiltily. He had only meant to rile you up some, not make you cry.

“Well, you did invade her privacy,” Tim added, earning a glare from Dick and Bruce. “What? You both were checking her phone messages. That’s a major invasion of privacy.”

Bruce turned away from Dick and Tim, going back to sit at his desk. He spun his chair to face the window while Dick and Tim watched him. “Tim,” Bruce began after a moment. “Do you know a Mark at school?”

Tim rubbed his head in thought. “I think there's a Mark in my class who would be in the same classes as (Y/N). Since I’m practically in college now, it’s hard to be sure, but since (Y/N) is so far ahead, it would make sense,” Tim debated.

“You mean this Mark is your age?” Dick gasped before shaking his head. “No, (Y/N) can’t go out with this guy. He’d have his own car, and teenage boys with cars are dangerous.”

“Bruce, you’re not thinking about forbidding (Y/N) to go on this date?” Tim asked, glancing at Bruce as Bruce spun back around to face them. “This is the first time someone asked her out, you can’t not let her go. It would ruin dating for her forever.”

Eventually, Alfred heard about the situation, and stepped in. The first thing he did was make Bruce and Dick apologize for invading your privacy. He also lectured the both of them on their misconduct, such as demanding that you tell them everything.

“I don’t know,” Bruce mumbled, getting up to open the entrance to the batcave. “However, I’m going to do some research on this boy.” Dick and Tim shared a look before following Bruce into the batcave with the intention of doing their own research on Mark.

***

Once that was done, Alfred made you a cup of tea, and calmly asked about Mark. You explained, somewhat shyly. Alfred seemed pleased by what you had to say, even though there was a trace of sadness. He was sorry to see you growing up so fast.

When you finished, you asked Alfred’s permission whether you could go, but he insisted you had to ask your father. Your heart sunk at the idea, knowing your father was not going to agreed.

It was Saturday afternoon when you found yourself standing in front of your mirror, adjusting the fifth outfit you had tried on. You kept changing your mind, worrying if you were too causal or too formal.

However, much to your surprise, Bruce agreed as long as you were back by nine. You gave him a kiss and a hug as a thank you before running out of the room. While you didn’t know it, Bruce had only agreed because of warning glare he received from Alfred right before you asked. Even Bruce was afraid of Alfred’s wrath.

***

“TT,” Damian huffed, letting himself into your room with his dog, Titus, in tow. He eyed you before climbing onto your bed. Titus curled up on your rug. “Why are you going on this ‘date’?” he demanded, air-quoting the word ‘date’.

“Because Mark asked me,” you explained, giving him a tight smile through the mirror. It seemed everyone except Alfred was asking you that question. You didn’t understand why they couldn’t all be happy for you. After all, this was the first time someone asked you on a date, and everyone made it seem like Mark was the devil.

“I don’t like this,” Damian remarked after watching you for several moments.

You turned around, having enough of fiddling with your outfit. Glancing at Damian, you picked up the small purse Alfred had given you for this occasion. Apparently, it was your grandmother’s, which brought a warm feeling to your heart as you touched it. “Why am I not surprised...” you mumbled to yourself.

Damian glared at you, overhearing what you said. “This man has a seedy reputation.”

Placing your wallet and phone in the purse, you spun to face Damian. “And how would you know that?”

“I hear things,” Damian answered, haughtily raising his nose in the air. Titus did the same, copying his master. If you weren’t so upset, you would have laughed.

“Really? Did you really hear things, or did you interrogate some of your classmates again?” Damian growled at you.

“I do not interrogate my classmates. I simply asked them,” he argued. You rolled your eyes, slipping the purse over your shoulder. Checking yourself in the mirror, you decided you were as ready as you would ever be. Damian and Titus followed you out of the room.

You headed down the stairs, almost bursting into tears when you saw Dick, Tim, and Bruce were waiting for you. The three men watched you, clearly stunned by your appearance.

“I don’t want to hear a word out of any of you,” you warned, brushing passed them. Damian and Titus stopped by Bruce, waiting to see what the other men would do.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). I said I was sorry,” Dick whined. You held up a hand to silence him as they all trailed behind you. Dick ignored your gesture. “Don’t I even get to tell you how nice you look?”

A smile pulled at your lips, but you forced it away. “No,” you snapped sharply. You entered the kitchen in search of Alfred. He was washing dishes. When he saw you, he smiled and dried his hands.

“You look beautiful, Miss (Y/N),” Alfred complimented, approaching you to pull you into a gentle hug. You relaxed, knowing you will at least have some support against the four men behind you. Unknown to you, Alfred sent the men a warning look.

“Yeah, you look great, (Y/N),” Tim added shyly.

“TT,” Damian huffed, rolling his eyes. Titus barked at you. You turned to face them, giving them a tight smile.

“I know you said I’m not supposed to, but you do look nice (Y/N),” Dick remarked, moving to give you a hug. You let him, hoping to keep the peace. When he pulled away from you, you heard him whisper under his breath. “Too nice for a scumbag like Mark.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred reprimanded. Dick looked at his feet in shame. Damian snickered at the sight.

You looked at your father, waiting to see what he would say. While Bruce had given his permission, you knew he wasn’t okay with you going on this date. You kept expecting the other shoe to drop.

Bruce approached you, placing his hands on your shoulders. The two of you stared into your similarly colored eyes. He seemed to be searching for something. Eventually, Bruce moved his hands onto the sides of your head to press his lips against your forehead.

“Promise me that if anything happens, you will call me,” he whispered softly. Your heart threatened to burst from his words. You could never get used to having a father to care about you after spending most of your childhood without one.

“I promise,” you answered, pulling away just as the doorbell rang. Your brothers sprinted out of the room with Alfred not far behind them. You were about to chase after them, but Bruce held you back.

“Let them answer the door. After all, a lady doesn’t answer the door for a gentleman caller,” Bruce explained. You eyed him suspiciously.

“Really? So, it’s not just to see if Dick, Damian, and Tim will scare Mark off?” you sassed, making Bruce narrow his eyes.

“No, but I do know a thing or two about proper etiquette,” he argued, frowning at the purse on your shoulder. You glanced at it, adjusting the strap. “Where did you get the purse? I haven’t see you use it before.”

You bit your lip. “Yeah, Alfred said it was Grandmother’s. Apparently, it wasn’t ladylike for me to have a wallet.”

“Dad, I already have money.” You gestured to your purse, but Bruce caught your hand and forced the money into it.

Bruce chuckled, gently brushing a strand of your hair. “I’m glad you can use it. Your grandmother would have wanted you to have it,” he replied. He pursed his lips for a moment before pulling several folded bills from his pocket. “I want you to have this.”

“Just in case,” he insisted, closing your hand around the money. You nodded, believing he was being paranoid, but you placed the money in your purse anyway. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment.

“So,” you began, nerves making you slightly jittery. “Can I go see Mark now?”

Bruce paused at your question as if he had to force himself to answer. “Of course. I want to meet him before you go.”

Once you and Mark were able to escape your father and brothers, the two of you headed to the restaurant. Luckily for you, Mark wasn’t too thrown off by your family. He actually found them hilarious.

“Oh, boy,” you mumbled to yourself. Everything in you hoped Bruce wouldn’t scare Mark away. That is if Dick, Tim, and Damian hadn’t already done so.

***

Nevertheless, you and Mark had a great time. He was charming and sweet. He opened the car door for you, and pulled out your chair. Mark even paid for dinner, ignoring you when you offered.

You found yourself quite taken with him. Every time he looked at you, you felt butterflies in your stomach. A blush would come to your cheeks when he directed a charming smile your direction.

However, a different feeling overtook you when you noticed you were driving out of town.

“Isn’t the movie theater on the other side of town?” you asked hesitantly. The sour feeling of uneasy growing in your stomach. Mark smiled at you, reaching over to pat your knee.

“I thought we could do something else,” he suggested, his charming smile changing to reflect lust. A cold wave of fear flowed through you at the sight. You started to reassure yourself, after all Mark wasn’t that kind of guy.

A foreboding silence filled the car as Mark drove farther and farther away from civilization. You took deep breaths, trying to keep calm. Mark’s hand settled on your knee, adding to your discomfort.

Eventually, Mark pulled into an abandoned lot before turning off the car. You gulped when he turned towards you, his hand sliding up your leg.

“I want to go home now, please,” you gasped, jumping away from his touch. You reached for the car door only to find it locked.

“Oh come on now, (Y/N),” Mark sneered, his face contorting into something grotesque. Far from the charming smile he wore before. “I bought you dinner, give me a little in return.”

“B...B...But you didn’t have to buy dinner,” you argued, your heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst from your chest. Your breath came out in panicked gasps.

“You should know how it works, (Y/N).” Mark snaked his arm around your shoulder, bring you to him. His hand on your thigh slid farther up your leg. “After all, why would you say yes to a date?” Your eyes widened with the realization your family had been right.

Suddenly, Mark’s mouth was on yours, his hand violating your body. You fought him, trying to push him away while also scrambling to try to unlock the car door. Mark’s grip tightened on you, hard enough to bruise. You tried to scream, but Mark’s mouth was still sealed to yours.

Somehow, your hand found the door lock, clicking it open. You grabbed the door handle, opening the door. Falling out of the car, you finally broke free from Mark’s grip.

“Where are you going, (Y/N)?” Mark demanded, opening his own car door. You scrambled to your feet, sprinting away as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he called, chasing after you.

Stumbling around in the dark, you ran as fast as you could. You fell several times, tripping over unseen things before jumping back to your feet to keep running. Eventually, you found yourself alone in the dark, Mark’s chasing footsteps silent behind you.

“Fine,” he shouted, his voice was far away, soothing your fear a little. “I’ll just leave you out here, (Y/N)! I hope the wolves get you!” The venom in his voice was so far from the charming voice that made you laugh earlier that you felt a sob slip out of you. You fought to keep quiet, sinking to the ground. Pulling your knees to your chest, you bit your knee to silence yourself as tears slipped down your face.

You listened for the starting of Mark’s car, and it driving away. Through the darkness, you could faintly see the headlights disappearing into the distance. Once you were left in complete darkness, you broke down.

All you wanted was your mom, but she was gone. You felt so violated, dirty, ashamed, and stupid. If your mom was still alive, you wouldn’t be in this mess. You would still be living in the apartment, going to your old school with your old friends, and your mom would be there. Your heart ached when you realized you couldn’t go back home.

Of course, Wayne Manor had started to become home. You grew to love your father, Alfred, and your brothers, but you just felt so ashamed. Bruce had been right about Mark, and you didn’t want to go back with him saying ‘I told you so’. You were in so much pain, you didn’t think you could bear him, or any of your brothers saying anything.

Eventually, you got enough control to realize the situation you were in. Biting your lip, you found you had left your purse in Mark’s car. Your phone had been in your purse. A few more tears slipped down your cheeks as you slowly got to your feet.

Your body hurt, but you were able to stay upright. Moving slowly, you started towards the direction where you last saw Mark’s headlights, knowing that must be the way to the road.

It took you an hour of walking to finally reach the edge of Gotham. Several cars passed you on the road, but you hid from them, too scared to trust anyone at the moment. At this point, you were about two hours passed your curfew, so you knew your father and brothers were losing their minds.

After another hour, you found a gas station that you felt was safe enough to approach. Gathering your courage, you walked inside and asked to borrow a phone. The attendant gave you a worried look before handing you their cell phone.

The phone shook in your hands as you realized you didn’t know who to call. You didn’t want the police. You didn’t want Bruce, because he would yell at you for trusting Mark in the first place. Calling Alfred would be like calling Bruce. You bit your lip, shivering as you tried to think of who to call.

Then it hit you. You thought of the one brother who didn’t know about your date, and probably wouldn’t judge you for being stupid, at least not right away. Dialing his number, you tried to ignore how much your body hurt.

“Hello,” a gruff voice answered with a hint of irritability. You almost lost your nerve, swallowing hard.

You coughed before weakly responding, “Jay?”

“(Y/N)?” Jason mumbled in surprise. His voice softening at the sound of your voice.

“Can you come and get me? Please?” you asked. You hated how defeated you sounded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come get you,” Jason soothed, sensing your distress. “Where are you?”

You looked around you before glancing at the attendant. They were listening in on your conversation, offering up an explanation of your location. You relayed what they said to Jason.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Will you be okay until I get there?” Jason questioned gently.

“I’ll be fi...fine,” you replied, your voice cracking at the word ‘fine’. You could almost hear Jason frown on the other end of the phone.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Jason repeated, hanging up the phone. You slowly ended the call, and handed the phone over to the attendant. The attendant watched you with concern as you made your way over to sit at one of the tables in station.

A paper cup of water appeared before you, causing you to look up to see the attendant. They gave you a smile, gesturing to the water. You took a sip, not noticing until now how dry your throat was. The attendant left you alone once you started drinking.

The moment Jason’s eyes found you, his heart broke.

Time passed slowly as you finished the water. You played with the cup, shivering at the thoughts going through your head. Closing your eyes, you focused on taking deep breathes to stay calm.

***

Bruce had called Jason an hour ago to update him on the situation when it was discovered your phone had been left in your date’s car. Apparently, Dick then broke into Mark’s house and interrogated the guy to find out he had assaulted you and left you out in the middle of nowhere. Nevertheless, the entire family was out searching the city in a panic. Jason had been in the middle of searching the back roads west of Gotham when you called him.

You looked so lifeless and broken. Your clothes were torn and dirty. Assessing you for a moment, Jason slowly made his way over to you. He stood beside you for a moment, frowning when you didn’t seem to notice him. Jason gently laid a hand on your shoulder. You jumped away from him, eyes wide with fear. You relaxed a little when you saw it was Jason.

“(Y/N),” Jason began softly, crouching down beside you. You watched with lost eyes. “Are you okay?”

You searched his face before shaking your head. A rogue tear slipped down your cheek. “No,” you whimpered. Jason grabbed your hand, frowning at how cold it was.

“It’s going to be fine now, okay? I’m here, and we can go home,” Jason soothed, pulling you to your feet. He slipped out of his leather jacket, wrapping it around you. You stumbled a little bit making Jason take your arm to steady you. The attendant watched the two of you leave the station and head towards Jason’s motorcycle.

Jason cursed himself for bringing his motorcycle. He didn’t know if you could stay on it in your condition. Helping you lean against the cycle, Jason took out his phone to send a text to the family to let them know he found you.

“You should have let me break his nose, Bruce,” Dick yelled. The two of them were in the batcave, waiting for Alfred to finish checking you over. Tim and Damian had been sent to bed. Jason was helping Alfred since you started hyperventilating when he left your sight. Bruce was brooding in the batcomputer chair with Dick pacing before him. “I could have wrung his little neck!”

With the greatest care, Jason helped you onto the bike before climbing on behind you. He slipped his helmet onto your head, knowing Bruce would kill him if he saw you without one. Starting the engine, Jason encircled you in his arms before slowly backing out of the parking space. You leaned back against his chest, feeling safe for the first time that night.

***

“Dick, calm down,” Bruce warned, glaring at him. Dick huffed, marching away from Bruce.

“I will not calm down! This is all your fault! I told you to forbid her from going, but you didn’t listen to me!” Bruce’s eyes narrowed as Dick spun to face him again. “Now, (Y/N) is in there terrified and hurt! We just threw her to the wolves!”

“Enough!” Bruce snapped sharply, rising from his chair. Dick jumped, backing away as Bruce rapidly approached him. “I know all of that, Dick! I don’t need you to tell me what I did wrong and how much my daughter had to suffer from it!”

Bruce was towered over Dick, his hands clenching into fists in an effort to control himself. Dick paled, preparing for a fight if Bruce decided to strike. Taking a shaky breath, Bruce struggled to calm himself, reminding himself that Dick didn’t deserve his anger.

“If I may interrupt, sirs,” Alfred announced, stepping out of the medical bay. He closed the door gently behind him, wiping his hands on a towel as he walked towards the men. “Miss (Y/N) has a few bruises and cuts, but nothing too serious. However, she is in shock. I’ve given her a sedative to calm her.”

“But she will be alright?” Bruce asked, taking a step towards the medical bay. Alfred caught his arm before he could go farther.

Alfred paused, contemplating his words. “Physically, yes. Emotionally, no. Miss (Y/N) has been hurt very deeply. It will take time for her to heal.”

“Can we see her?” Dick asked, glancing over at the medical bay.

“Of course,” Alfred replied. “But do be gentle. Miss (Y/N) has been through a lot tonight.” Nodding his head, Bruce headed towards the medical bay with Dick trailing behind him. Alfred eyed them before going up the stairs to the house to make himself a pot of tea. Seeing you so defeated broke his heart.

Upon entering the medical bay, Bruce skidded to a halt, causing Dick to run into him. Nothing prepared Bruce for the sight of you, so small and lifeless, lying on the medical bunk with Jason by your side. Bruce hadn’t gotten a chance to see you since he arrived two minutes after you and Jason.

Dick mumbled in irritation, pushing Bruce out of the way so he could see you. His eyes darkened with rage at the sight of you. He wished he had tossed that boy into the Gotham river like he threatened when they found out you were missing.

You noticed their presence, even through the fog of the sedative. Wincing at the sight of Bruce’s shock and Dick’s rage, you closed your eyes in an attempt to escape what you thought was coming. When nothing happened, you opened one eye to find Bruce studying you with uncertain eyes.

Bruce cleared his throat, turning to Dick and Jason. “Why don’t you two go to bed?” Dick grunted, marching out of the room before he did something he would regret. Jason checked with you first, following Dick only after you nodded.

Once they were gone, Bruce sat in the chair Jason had occupied a moment earlier. He looked exhausted, years older than he actually was. You watched him as he took a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Don’t rub it in,” you whispered, breaking the ice. Bruce looked up at you, startled by your words.

“What?” He blinked at you, confused.

You closed your eyes to stop the tears that wanted to appear. “I know you were right about him, but don’t rub it in my face.” Opening your eyes, a tear slipped down your cheek. Bruce grabbed your hand before using his thumb to brush away the tear. “I know I messed up.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” Bruce mumbled, the grief on his face stabbed at your heart. “You didn’t mess up. Nothing that happened was your fault.”

“But I am so stupid. I should have known when he asked me out that something was wrong,” you sobbed, slightly surprised when more tears spilled down your cheeks. You thought you cried all your tears earlier.

“No, you are not stupid,” Bruce argued, pulling you into a hug. You laid limply in his arms, burying your face into his shoulder. “He should have been someone you could have trusted.”

Bruce held you as you cried. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed there, all you knew was how tightly Bruce held you throughout.

Eventually, you ended up cradled in his lap. Bruce gently rocked you, resting his head on yours. You never felt so safe. Your tears dried eventually, and you found your eyelids growing heavy.

“Dad?” you sighed as you drifted towards sleep. He hummed in response, prompting you to continue. “I don’t think I will ever be able to trust anyone again.”

Bruce pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I hope that won’t be the case, (Y/N). I have struggled all my life with trusting others, and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I have.”

“But what if it happens again?” you yawned, burying your face into his chest. Bruce sat back in his chair with a sigh.

You stayed home from school for several days, recovering in the safety of your family. Your brothers wouldn’t leave you alone, always insisting on staying with you. You appreciated their comfort for it kept your mind off other things.

“We’ll just be more careful next time.” His hand stroked your hair. You hummed, satisfied with his answer before you drifted off into soothing darkness.

***

Bruce also kept an eye on you, having made appointments for you to speak to a therapist. You didn’t agree at first, but after a few sessions, you found it to be a relieving experience. Alfred was around as well, always ready to lend an ear if you needed one.

When you went back to school, you found out what happened to Mark. Apparently, Mark had broken both legs in a fall the night of your date. Damian had been next to you when you heard the news, and the pleased expression on his face was telling of what really broke Mark’s legs. Plus, everyone had become aware of what a scumbag Mark really was when some incriminating evidence of what Mark did to other girls appeared on the internet. Nevertheless, Mark had been expelled from school, and faced possible criminal charges. You suspected Tim’s involvement in that, but he would never confirm it.

Overtime, you recovered. You made a few friends at school, and grew closer to your family. While you will never be so trusting again, you did become a stronger person.

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