#and when Damian wakes up after getting his bacon saved

[queerbutstillhere]

Damian had been planning it for months now. He had this whole big scheme laid out, take Jon to dinner, have a nice evening, have him fly them up somewhere high so they could watch the sunset, and then while Jon was distracted, he would produce the ring and ask him.

Except that didn't happen.

It wasn't like Jon didn't know Damian was going to ask eventually. It's just that he didn't know when. They had discussed it, quite extensively. They had discussed it with their parents. They knew they were going to get married, it just hadn't been intended to be so soon. It had been implied that it would be later, maybe in a year or two. Except there was one thing. One problem

Damian was so hopelessly infatuated with Jon, he knew he didn't want to wait another year to be engaged. If they waited to be married, fine. But he wanted to do it now. So he made his plans. 

Only his plans didn't turn out.

Not for any negative reason. He was simply too impatient.

Here's how it ended up really happening.

Jon was always a morning person. No one ever doubted that, Damian blamed it on the fact that he grew up on a farm, plus he was literally solar powered. So Jon had woken up before Damian, who knows how long before, hours, minutes, one could never tell. But Damian woke up to the smell of frying food filtering under the bedroom door of their apartment. The apartment itself was a fairly modest home, compared to what Damian had wanted to get. It was still on the higher end. Two bedroom, two bath, but just one floor, where as what Damian had wanted was a penthouse with two floors and a huge balcony. This one had a fairly modest balcony, but Jon had loved the "little" apartment, and who was Damian to say no. 

So he woke to the pleasant smells of pancakes and vegan bacon(Don't ask how Damian got Jon to switch, he just did), and also the smell of Damian's favorite dark roast coffee. It was nearly 9am on a Saturday, but Damian was considering lazing around in bed until Jon came to wake him up for breakfast. It was a lazy Saturday, after all.

But then he decided otherwise. His lovely boyfriend was doing all this work for him to make breakfast, the least he could do was get up. So the twenty-five year old pulled himself out of bed, grabbed a pair of sweatpants (who's they were, at this stage, was indiscernible, they just wore each other's clothing, one man's sweatpants were another's. The only thing they didn't share at this point was Damian's suits, because those were specifically tailored for him), and shuffled out of bed, yawning as he checked his texts.

"Hey, there he is," Jon's pleasantly chipper voice greeted. "Good morning babe."

"Good morning, love," Damian hummed, walking over to the man stood by the gas stove. 

Jon, twenty-two now, stood just barely an inch over Damian. This was not to say that Damian was short, 6'2" was fairly tall, but alas, Jon had achieved his life goal of being taller, and had Damian not been so painfully smitten, he would have been annoyed. His hair, had thankfully been appropriately styled, a while back, for a photoshoot with Damian, and he had decided to keep the cut, it was partially shaved, but the front section was a little longer, left side longer then the right at that. Usually it was styled back with a bit of product, but as was, he had clearly showered that morning, so it was down, partially in his eyes. He wasn't terribly muscular, not like his father, and he just slightly outweighed Damian, but they were built significantly differently, Jon had broader shoulders and chest, whereas Damian looked more lithe and evenly built.

He was currently wearing gym shorts and a sweatshirt from his highschool, a spatula in one hand.

Damian walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee stirring in a little bit of sugar and some of the caramel flavoring he kept on hand. He sipped it, and hummed happily before walking over to Jon, gently pulling on his sleeve and pulling him over so they could kiss.

"You're amazing," Damian murmured.

"Says you," Jon chuckled out, glancing down as he started to flip his pancake.

"I do. Did the paper come?"

Jon pointed at something on the island, and Damian snagged the folder newspaper up, walking the few feet to their designated living room and sitting down on one of the sofa's, tucking his feet up under him and starting to read the articles as he sipped his morning coffee.

After ten or so minutes, Jon came over, putting his arms over Damian's shoulders and leaning into him from behind.

"Breakfast is ready?"

"Amazing," Damian hummed, folding the newspaper and then looking up at Jon.

Jon titled his head down and kissed him quickly, upside down. Damian just chuckled softly and then stood after he pulled away, following the kryptonian to the kitchen, where he was served a decent portion of pancakes and vegan bacon. They sat at the breakfast bar together and ate silently.

"So, you got any plans for the day?" Jon asked as he was finishing up, taking the last swallow of his almond milk.

"No. I was more or less hoping for a lazy day at home with you."

"Well we gotta do laundry today, but sure."

Damian grumbled softly, shoving the last bite of pancake in his mouth.

Jon chuckled and took his plate, moving to the sink to wash them.

"It's so cute how much you hate laundry. We've been living together for a year now and you still hate doing your laundry."

"I could just buy new clothes," Damian muttered.

"And that's incredibly wasteful. Aren't you the one who made me go vegan and stop using single use plastics for economical reasons?"

Damian didn't comment. 

"Aren't you the guy who goes to environmental rallies and has a indoor composting tote in the corner of our dining room? And aren't you the guy who saves all our veggie scraps to make veggie stock every Sunday?"

Jon could probably go on, listing for hours the different things Damian did to be more eco-sustainable, but Damian interrupted.

"Okay, I get your point."

Jon chuckled, glancing back at him.

"Besides, it's not even like you do most of the laundry," he said, rinsing off his hands and drying them before walking back over, kissing Damian once more.

"I know."

Jon just smiled at him fondly, and Damian felt his heart go aflutter. 

"You're cute," he murmured, kissing Damian's forehead.

"Jon?"

"Yeah?"

"Marry me."

"Wh-. . . What?" Jon breathed out.

Damian grabbed Jon's hands, holding eye contact.

"Marry me," he repeated.

The words had slipped out the first time. There was no going back now, but it was okay, because he didn't want to. The only thing he wanted was to marry Jonathan Kent.

Jon stared at him with wide eyes, and for the first time since Damian had asked him to be his boyfriend, Damian felt a small stab of the fear of rejection. Then a grin started spreading across Jon's face, and he squeezed Damian's hands, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

"Of course I will."

"To be clear, I am proposing to you, right now. In this kitchen."

"I know."

"Wait here."

Damian got up and went to his work bag, finding it hanging on its usual hook and digging in it until he found the small lead lined pouch, pulling it out and then pulling out the contents, a beautiful silver engagement band, inlaid with diamonds. He walked back over to Jon, and dropped to one knee, taking Jon's left hand.

"Jonathan Samuel Kent, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

Damian was having a hard time not grinning like an idiot, but he slipped the band(a perfect fit) onto Jon's finger and then stood, pulling him in for another kiss.

"I kind of assumed you had some big elaborate plan," Jon confessed, arms over Damian's shoulders.

"I did. But. . . "

"I like this. . . This is good. You definitely surprised me."

Damian smiled, kissing Jon's cheek.

"I'm glad."

"I love you, Damian."

"I love you more."

"I highly doubt that," Jon said with a chuckle, pushing Damian back against the counter.

"Hmm, try me."

They just started laughing, then grinned at each other for a moment more, before Jon pulled his hand down to examine the ring. 

That's right. Damian was going to marry his childhood best friend, and he couldn't be happier about it.

#i was sad and queer so here i coped #the discord server saw my mini break down first sjdjwjwne #this is how i wanna be proposed to ngl #damijon #damijon fics #damian wayne #damianxjon #jonathan samuel kent #jon kent #queerbutstillhere writes #queerbutstillhere

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Burnt Bacon pt 1

In an alternate timeline, taking place shortly after Outsiders, the Light find Wally West first, 

“Have I got a surprise for you.”

Luthor rolls his eyes. After the PR and legal hell he’s been through, he could use a win, but he doubts Psimon has anything as good as all that for him. He leans back in his desk chair, and turns to gaze out at the Metropolis skyline. 

Still…

“And what’s that?”

He can almost hear Psimon grin; so proud of himself for whatever reason. 

“The original Kid Flash.”

Luthor rolls his eyes. “Didn’t he die? Honestly Psimon-”

“Oh no. I’ve been inside his mind. It’s really him. He disappeared years ago, but I found him. He’s ours now.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

*****

He meets Psimon in Nanda Parbot the next night, where Ra’s and Talia are there waiting at the Lazarus pit.

It’s uncomfortably hot in the cave, and it smells of death; putrid flesh.

“The Lazarus pit will either rejuvenate him, and kill him,” Psimon tells them.

“He’s valuable to us,” Luthor points out. “Is this worth the risk?”

“He’s a shell right now,” Talia explains. “A full recovery would take months; months we do not have.”

Luthor frowns and looks to the boy…man, really. Young, but a man. Green eyes stare vacantly ahead, mouth slightly agape. His Kid Flash uniform is ripped and torn, his body ravaged by malnourishment. 

It’s clear he doesn’t know where he is or what’s going on. It’s likely he doesn’t even know his own name anymore, let alone which side he fights for. 

Luthor waves a hand slowly in front of the boy’s face and snaps his fingers. 

Nothing. 

No response. 

He turns to Ra’s and Talia. 

“Do it.” 

***** 

Consciousness hits him like a freight train, and when his eyes snap open, he realizes he’s underwater. 

His super speed propels him out of the pit and to the other end of the cave, limbs shaking, breath shallow and harsh. He collapses in a heap.  

“My dear boy.” 

It’s a gentle voice, and when he looks up, there’s a woman standing over him, looking…

Concerned. Possibly. 

“You are alright now,” she tells him, kneeling in front of him. “We have saved you.” 

He blinks. “I…” 

“Do you remember anything?” she asks.

He thinks hard, but nothing comes. He feels…blank. 

What’s his name? Where does he come from? What day is it? What is his favorite food? 

His stomach rumbles, and he frowns, feeling himself flush with embarrassment. 

“It is alright now, my love,” Talia says gently. “You are safe here with us. No one will ever hurt you again.” She smiles. 

And it’s not quite a…kind smile. 

But it’s a smile. 

“We will make certain of that,” she promises. 

And he believes her. 

He has no reason not to.

***** 

Recovery is quick from there. He doesn’t know what happened; all he knows is that he can run.

“You have the meta gene,” Talia told him over tea one day. “It has given you enhanced speed. We believe you may be the fastest man alive.” 

He nods, processing that. He hasn’t been able to talk much; his voice feels too raw and words seem…

Words belong to other people. 

“Come,” Talia orders gently. “Finish your tea. There is much to do.” 

***** 

Fastest man alive is probably accurate. 

He learns eight different fighting styles in a week, and four languages on top of it. 

He can run a mile in less than ten seconds. 

He hears his masters talking one day. 

“It is public record that he was never that fast previously,” Ra’s says. “This is new. Something happened to him. We must find out what.” 

“Yes, Father,” Talia nods. “And in the meantime, I will keep training him.” 

“See that he is prepared.” 

“Yes, Father.” 

***** 

Preparation means a lot of things. 

In the League of Shadows, it means  being able to withstand torture; being prepared to end your life should the need arise; it means being loyal. 

Always loyal. 

He’s tortured nearly to death, and buried alive. He is stabbed and shot at, electrocuted and he doesn’t break. 

There is nothing to break. 

But when he’s allowed to rest; when the sun cracks through the clouds at the end of his third week of training, he dreams. 

***** 

“Wally, what is all this?” 

“Happy Valentine’s day, Babe.” 

“It was two days ago.” 

“Well, you were on a mission and I was buried under schoolwork…I figured we could have a little late celebration. I got your favorite.” 

“Are those the veggie dumplings-” 

“From down the street. And extra plum sauce to go with.” 

“My hero.” 

“Hands down my favorite job. I love you.” 

***** 

When he wakes up, alone in his quarters on the mat on the floor, he can still hear the woman’s voice, smokey and warm. She had been…blonde? Blonde, with dark eyes, and a knowing smile. 

Was he…had he been…Wally? 

***** 

“What’s my name?” 

Talia doesn’t look at him, busy as she is with bathing the baby in a small basin. Damian is only a few weeks old. He’s cute, but demanding, taking up his master’s time. 

“What do you mean?” Talia asks lightly. 

“Was…I…am I…Wally?” 

He doesn’t get a response. 

But the world goes black.

***** 

He wakes the next morning from a dreamless sleep, and Talia stands in the doorway. 

“You have more training.” 

***** 

The Red Hood watches him curiously. He’s young, but his skills are honed.

The Red Hood is…familiar. 

They don’t talk about it.

They don’t talk about anything. 

***** 

Talia comes to him the night before his naming ceremony, where he’ll be officially inducted into the league, and drops her robe, naked before him.

He stares at her for a long, quiet moment, and thinks of…

Dark eyes. Thin, strong fingers stroking his hair lovingly. 

“My Wally…” 

When Talia leans in to kiss him, he turns away. 

“No,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. 

“Good,” Talia says softly. “You are focused.” 

She slips her robe back on and heads for the door. “Tomorrow you become one with the Shadows.” 

He doesn’t watch her leave. 

#Young Justice #Baconverse #alternate Baconverse #Burnt Bacon #Wally West #fic #TW: dark weird stuff about being trained as an assassin by the Shadows and the fact that Talia gets a liiiiittle creepy #eventual Spitfire #spitfire

[aspiratinganxiety]

Prompt: the batboys and their morning schedule! How would they all deal with waking up? Thank you,lovely! 💕

You’re the lovely one! It will be an honor to fill your request, you sweet perfect angel baby @spiderling-tom​.

Dick:

-Richard Grayson is naturally a 100% morning glory. He adapted to doing well at night through being raised in show business during his earliest years. This development was further honed during his time as Robin. All the same, his circadian rhythm has him up with the sun.

-When he was working on his own in Blüdhaven, transitioning to solo work was especially rough because of the extended hours and his lack of ability to catch naps while clocked in at the police station. A month and a half of consistent sleep deprivation in, he saved himself with ludicrously expensive black-out curtains. Now, they’re a must in every one of his apartments. 

-Dick ideally sets his alarm for an hour and a half before he’s meant to turn up somewhere. That gives him time to roll out of bed, hop in the shower, clean up his stubble, and wash away any lingering resentment or disappointments from the night before. He likes to start the day clean, both physically and mentally. 

-Meditation is a key part of his morning. He developed this aspect of his routine living in the manor with Damian. It was a nice way for them to bond that involved little speaking, as most conversation at that point inevitably became antagonistic. 

-As soon as he’s out of the shower, he moves through a collection of six or seven complicated meditative yoga posses in no particular order. The family of soldier poses are his preference, but he’s not above a child’s pose or a downward facing dog if he’s got a kink to work out of his back.

-After 15-20 minutes of meditation, he’s usually got about an hour or so left to meander through a healthy breakfast of whole grains and fruits. For protein on everyday mornings, he usually downs a muscle milk, eats some cottage cheese, or prepares some quick poached eggs. 

-When breakfast is finished, enough time has elapsed for his hair to go from wet to damp, and that’s the way he prefers it to be for optimum styling. He uses sculpting waxes rather than gels because they’re supposed to keep from drying hair out. Dick also prefers the softer, bouncier texture that he can get with sculpting wax. 

-He tried pomades out in college, but with his course dark hair it made him feel like a grease ball. He swore off the stuff.

-Boy’s pretty vain about the hair, tbh. It’s the part that takes the longest after yoga and breakfast. (Honestly hard to blame him. Baby’s got some locks that are fine as hell.)

-He dawdles around his living room with any leftover time after slipping into most of his clothing, usually scrolling through social media or taking care of dailies on his mobile games. If he’s wearing more formal attire, he hangs around in slacks and his undershirt, waiting until the last 5 minutes to shrug on a dress shirt and secure a complimentary pair of oxfords. 

-If it is a casual day or just a weekend, he’ll throw on some jeans or athletic pants and avoid a shirt all together until he tugs a t-shirt over his head on the way out of the door. 

-Speaking of weekends, he mixes the breakfast routine up quite a bit depending upon what day it is. For the most part, Dick carefully monitors his diet. He’s a bit of a health nut, and though his physical conditioning demands a massive amount of calories to sustain his muscle tone and strength, he tries to stick with healthy fats, lean proteins, and plenty of fresh fruits and veggies to reach his daily intake goal. But the weekend is different, and breakfast (oh sweet syrupy breakfast) is his favorite way to splurge. 

-Pancakes, waffles, french toast, cereals made of nothing but three kinds of sugar and neon dye. 

-Sausage, bacon, ham, fried eggs, leftover sauteed chicken breast shredded for an omelette.

-All of the unholy, unhealthy breakfast food. All of it, and all at once too, please?

-Thank you.

Jason:

-Mornings are rough for him. He was born to live the night life. Running on empty, he can stay conscious and competent for upwards of 50 hours without many more side effects than a ferocious appetite and some crazy hair-trigger violence. (So uh… not all that different than his normal disposition, eh?)

-His snooze button is well-used, and he needs a new alarm clock every year or so because he doesn’t just press the poor button, he slams it with the full weight of his balled fist. 

-The alarm clock is assaulted anywhere between 2-5 times before Jason admits defeat and crawls out of bed with all the cheery disposition of mutilated hell-spawn. 

-Jay is a nighttime shower sorta guy. He prefers to scrub off all of the previous night before getting into bed. He feels no need to repeat the whole process out of the goddamn gate in the morning, even if he is waking up at a time that is technically considered the afternoon to average mortals. 

-He does a quick wash up after that oh so satisfying first-thing-in-the-morning piss. 

-Cold water. Wash cloth. Boom. 

-Good enough. 

-Being clumsy and drowsy while he styles his hair works for him. He combs it out, drags some product into it, and wears it messy. 

-The electric razor he uses to keep his stubble at a sexy 5 o’clock all day long is not employed until after he has been caffeinated. One of the scars on the corner of his jaw that he considers to look more bad-ass than several of his actual battle scars was placed there by said razor biting into his flesh while he yawned and half-dozed at his sink during the process. 

-Depending heavily on whether or not there was drinking the night before, Jason drags through getting himself some coffee or mixing up some hair of the dog. He likes his coffee strong and black, but if there’s a hangover looming, he’ll pour a hearty shot of Baileys into it.

-Boy, does he get some looks from the local liquor store clerk. A big o’ boy built like a brick house in leathers with the occasional bloodied nose and a shit eating grin on his face buying a delicate bottle of Baileys Cream Liqueur at 4 o’clock in the morning turns some heads, okay? Especially around Valentine’s Day when he stocks up on the delectable strawberries and cream flavor they keep stashed away outside of February. 

-Fuck Grant, though. He’s a fifty-something dude working graveyard shift selling alcohol in a polyester-blend polo. Who the hell is he to judge Jason’s love of delicious, sweet Irish cream?      

-Breakfast doesn’t sit very well on Jason’s stomach, particularly if he’s had shitty dreams. Occasionally, if the tangles of sleep that usually linger in his mind for an hour or two after waking up miraculously dissipate soon after coffee, he’ll eat some cereal or fry up some eggs. 

-He likes them with runny yolks and lots of black pepper. Crunchy sourdough toast and an ungodly amount of butter. Maybe some cinnamon applesauce on the side or a Greek yogurt. Something zingy and tart to balance out the fatty components of the meal. 

-Fucking delicious. 👌.  

-All things considered, Jason usually gets through his morning routine in under an hour. He doesn’t stress too much about clothing, throwing something on somewhere between coffee and the episode or two of whatever meme-birthing show Tim’s spamming him about that week. 

Tim:

-Shockingly, Tim doesn’t have a hard time waking up. He is a dreadfully light sleeper, and resents the ever-loving crap out of every creaky board in the manor’s second story grand hall where a lot of the bedrooms are located. 

-He lives in a house full of ninjas, goddamn it. Why is Alfred the only person under the roof capable of avoiding boards 17 and 34 out of respect for the tired and excellent-of-hearing? 

-He wakes up before his alarm most times, whether aided by the stomping of a family member or not. He rarely comes to with enough time left to feel the sweet relief of glancing at his phone and seeing that he’s got over an hour to return to blissful unconsciousness. 

-These glorious occasions are celebrated, cherished events that he will keep in his heart always and recall on loop with the dulcet sounds of a Mariah Carey love song coloring the scene. 

-It’s usually more like he gets 5 or 10 minutes to stare incredulously at his lock screen, personally offended by the universe as the absolute injustice of the world overwhelms him for a handful of minutes until the plucky melody of The Great Fairy’s Fountain chimes his doom. 

-Whatever. It’s a bit dramatic, but whatever. Mornings suck, he’s tired, his body is bad at sleeping, and he has a mountain of tasks to tackle each and every day of his ludicrously busy life. 

-His sleep schedule isn’t as jacked up as everybody makes it out to be, by the way. He just pulls an all-nighter once or twice a week on average. 

-That’s not outrageous, it’s simply routine at this point. 

- … don’t judge him.

- Tim washes his face and dresses efficiently with very little fanfare aside from blaring some music to lighten his frame of mind. He showers right after waking up every now and then if the mood strikes him or he feels a headache coming on. 

-Alfred, perfect, perfect Alfred somehow always has breakfast and their preference of fresh tea or coffee waiting for each of them in spite of their widely different schedules. Tim eats and drinks to rectify his opinion of the universe, though he usually needs at least a coffee at home and a coffee to go before he is ready to consider the petty, complicated snarl of the cosmos as a neutral body rather than a personal foe. 

-When he’s in his own safe house or apartment, he sleeps deeply until he wakes up without an alarm and proceeds with essentially the same routine that he follows in the manor. 

-Check phone. Sigh. Introspective pause. Hygiene needs. Start Pandora station. Clothing. Coffee. Peaceful enjoyment of food stuffs and joyous caffeination. Wonder why Steph added Garfunkel to Pandora station. (Is it a joke? Is it for serious? Who can know.) 

Damian:

-Though willing to sacrifice sleep on certain, necessary occasions, Damian is a stickler about his health. Sleep is as crucial a component in one’s physical upkeep as food or water. 

-Because Damian is so rigid about the whole “my body, my temple” thing, far more so than Dick, he’s never too terribly cranky when morning rolls around.  

-That is to say, he isn’t crankier than usual. 

-He doesn’t use an alarm of any kind. Damian has a remarkable internal clock. One of the first things that he was trained to do was effectively curtail his circadian rhythm in order to loosely control the depth and time of his sleep sessions. 

-This guy can time his naps and morning wake-up to within ten minutes of the goal he mentally sets before sleep. 

-Honestly maybe a low key metahuman thing. 

-It’s weird, y’all. 

-Every morning at precisely 6:15 am, out of courtesy, Alfred knocks at the door to tell Damian that his breakfast is in the process of being prepared. 

-Damian has been awake since 5:30 and worked through a vigorous morning fitness routine that focuses on crunches, lunges, and chin-ups to get his blood flowing and beat any dreariness from his mind. 

-When Dick lived in the manor, he happened upon Damian meditating in the sun room while Alfred put the finishing touches into breakfast. He saw the obvious benefits of daily reflection and asked Damian if he could join him. 

-Of course, Damian saw no need to deny him. After all, they were partners at the time, and sharing silence wouldn’t exactly disrupt his process.

-Until his father resumed the mantle of Batman, Damian and Dick would meet every morning, exchange a rough estimate of the poses most beneficial to their aches and injuries, and silently work through a handful of positions until breakfast was on the table. 

-Now that Dick is back in his own apartment, Damian meditates on his own in the crisp, bright room. He enjoys the absolute quiet, and Titus is always there keeping him company. 

-It’s not lonely at all. 

-Damian prefers to focus on proteins and starches for his first meal, selecting rice or quinoa bowls with eggs, soft cheeses, and usually some chick peas or savory black beans. 

-His classes don’t start until 9, so he has plenty of time to return upstairs and shower. He goes for constrictive cold showers to cement his senses in an alert mode, and he meticulously flosses, brushes, and swishes as he waits for his hair to lose some moisture. 

-The gel, you guys. The GEL.

-This boy has a freaking collection of stupidly expensive gel. There’s even one with flecks of actual, literal gold.

-You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. 

-This is his favorite gel to use because the understated, finely ground precious metal does not appear as garish shards of glitter, but as a nearly invisible sheen that compliments his rich skin tone and the subtle, smoky undertones of warm browns that hide in his dark, dark hair.

-He maybe knows this in fewer words with less keen observation. In actuality, he probably just likes the hold of the gel and the way that it looks in the sun. 

-Damian takes a while styling his hair too (we blame Grayson). Depending on how dramatically he wants to spike the lengthy crest of his pompadour fade that morning, he can be at it for up to 20 minutes. (Full porcupine, or a slicked-back clean look with tousled bangs?) 

-Once dressed and ready, Damian uses his spare time to discuss any current casework with his father and inquire about the company. If Bruce isn’t in a verbal mood, Damian will either read a book or play with his pets until Alfred summons him to the car.          

#batboy headcanons #batboy headcanon #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #request #spiderling-tom #damian wayne #dc headcanon #morning routine #damian wayne headcanon #dick grayson headcanon #jason todd headcanon #tim drake headcanon #it's happening guys #i am actually getting requests #holy shit im so excited #and flattered #i love you all

[bluboothalassophile]

Hey Blu! I was wondering if you could write a story where it shows Alfred opinion about RaeX and he feels about them as a couple. P.S. I know you are moving so don't rush to write the prompt. But thanks in advance.

Hello,

Thank you for the patience in waiting, and I hope you like the story! =)

Observations…

Alfred supposed that it was onlynatural for the family to have a focus on the newest element of an unknown intothe family.

The recent discovery of Miss Rothand Jason’s involvement with one another had been an unexpected development.Not even Alfred had seen that development coming, and as Jason was more openwith him as opposed to the rest of the family, Alfred had been shocked. Notthat the young demon was not a lovely young woman who was a very good friend tothe other members of this house, but she was now an unknown element in theirhome.

Miss Roth had been a family friendfor years, and Alfred was rather fond of the girl. She had helped Richard whenthe boy had been particularly troubled about Slade, and he found it remarkablethat the young lady had been only a mere child to remain that level about thesituation. She had saved Timothy on several occasions, and the young woman had alsobefriended Timothy when Timothy had most needed a friend. And she was provingto be a positive force for Damian, a very good force for breaking through tothe boy about several things about working with teams.

Also, Miss Roth was a courteous,polite, quiet young lady which was a charming change from chaos which alwaysseemed to be enveloping the Wayne home. The lady possessed a quality, a serenity,a stillness of her soul and energy which was soothing to be around.

Whereas Jason was a never ceasingstorm of energy. Of all the Wayne children, of all the members of theBatfamily, of all the people in this life, Jason was a hurricane. Even as a ladthe young man had assaulted everyone with the force of his will, his emotions,his thoughts, his intellect, the child had been a force, the man was an evengreater force. However, Jason was still this raging storm, and passionate.

Miss Roth was not. Miss Roth, was arather reserved, contained individual, and a bit of a ‘cold fish’.

Which brought Alfred to his mainconcern for the relationship his adopted grandson had found himself in. Alfred’sconcerns also went for Miss Roth as well, for all he wanted was the happinessof these young people. But they were so fundamentally different he did not seethat happening as he walked outside the red apartment door in New York City,and stared at the 4C on the door, no doubt an attempt at humor for Jason.Lightly he rapped the door, it was eleven in the morning so he was late enoughfor them to be up.

There was a heavy flicking noisebehind the door and it opened to reveal a rumpled Jason, with an equallyrumpled Miss Roth, both who looked like they had just woken up.

“Al, what are you doing here?” Jasonyawned as he dragged his hand through his hair.

“I have come to welcome you andMiss Roth into your home, as I did not get to previously,” he pointedly said ashe walked into the neat, open floor plan, classic apartment.

“Mmm,” Jason hummed.

“Waffles,” Miss Roth muttered, andAlfred inspected the young woman noting that she was sleeping with her headpropped up on her fist.

“Miss Roth,” Alfred said.

“I didn’t do it!?” she bolted up,there was a slash of blackness as something shattered and she blinked with widedark eyes.

“Ow,” Jason muttered.

“You appear to be falling asleep,on the counter Miss Roth, perhaps you would prefer a bed,” Alfred offered; theyoung woman did not look well with her ashen skin, and the bags under her eyes.

“’M fine,” she yawned. “’M awake,”she slurred and was asleep again.

“She’s not a morning bird unlessshe’s got school,” Jason yawned as he cleaned up the shattered thing which hadsuffered from Miss Roth’s powers. Alfred frowned a bit but he walked intoMaster’s Jason’s kitchen and made himself at home. Noticing that Master Jason wassitting beside his girlfriend with a mug of coffee as he seemed to be sleepingas well.

“Bacon,” Miss Roth muttered.

“Mmm,” Jason hummed in response andAlfred softened seeing the pair as they were as he continued cooking. When heplaced the plates before the pair they seemed a bit confused at the appearance ofthe food.

“You didn’t have to do this Al,” Jasonyawned.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Miss Roth saidwith her own yawn, Alfred stifled his coming yawn then.

“It is not a problem, I came to seehow you were doing,” Alfred said as he started cleaning while the young pairate.

“Doing what?” Jason asked.

“Miss Roth appeared earlier thisweek with Master Damian, and announced she was not only dating you, Master Jason,but you two were in a committed relationship and living together,” Alfredmused. It was quite the shock.

“Oh,” Jason seemed confused and MissRoth nudged him lightly. Ah, there it was, the interactions he wanted to assessbefore he formed a real opinion of the relationship. Though he still did notsee it, Master Jason was too much like Master Bruce, even if he did not see itanymore, Alfred did. And Master Bruce’s way of taking on relationships hadrubbed off on all the boys to some degree.

“Jason this is your family’s testand assessment,” Miss Roth filled in.

“What?”

“Like the talk you and Vic had,”she explained.

“Well that’s confusing,” Jason yawned.

“Think about it after you havecoffee,” she muttered tiredly.

“I did not come to assess or testyou Miss Roth,” Alfred lied smoothly as he continued cleaning the frying pan. Thegirl’s reflection shoed that she had a disbelieving look, which had him smilinga bit.

“Nothing to worry about then Rae,” Jasonsmirked at her.

“You need coffee, then assess whyyour family has started showing up,” Miss Roth said as she shoved Jason’s mugat him.

“I do not need coffee; Alfred neverlies about what he’s doing here,” Jason defended.

“Empath, drink the coffee, thenthink,” she ordered.

“Eat your food, wake up then youthink,” Jason ordered.

“I’m awake!”

“You were snoring.”

“I do not snore.”

“You do too, get over it.”

“I never snore!”

“I don’t get why girls insist theynever snore!”

“You’re welcome to sleep on thecouch.”

“Never, now shut up and eat yourbreakfast.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“But I’m right.”

“Drink your coffee, then think, andyou’ll see I’m right,” Miss Roth countered. Alfred only sighed in relief, itdid not appear his worst fear was at hand and they had trapped themselves in ahorrid relationship. Alfred had always found people to be their most honest whenjust waking up, and this had proved it. Still, he would watch it carefullybefore fully welcoming Miss Roth into his home. But this was a good start.

It was when Miss Roth had left himand Jason alone for her shower that Alfred sat at the table tucked in a nook witha cup of earl grey in hand as Jason sat with him.

“So, does she pass the Alfredscrutiny of approval?” Jason asked him.

“And whatever makes you think I amtesting her, Master Jason?”

“’Cause Vic pulled this shit on mewhen I started dating her,” Jason smirked.

“She is starting off well,” Alfredadmitted.

“Mmm, then you should know shemakes me happy, and sane,” Jason smiled tiredly. “She makes me normal, Al, andthat’s got to count for something.”

“It does,” Alfred nodded as headmitted that he worried the most about Jason’s mental health. Jason’s Pitrage, natural rage, his traumas, and everything else the lad had lived throughmade him volatile, so if he felt normal, that counted for a lot. And it madeAlfred think maybe Miss Roth could earn her place in his home.

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