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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

#dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #maribat #bio!dad au #Bio!mom Harley Quinn #Bio!Dad joker #mlb x dc #ml x dc #Harley’s Plea for Help #platonic brucinette #platonic jasonette #platonic Harley Quinn x Marinette

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violetsmoak · 4 years

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Pieces of April [18/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Sorry for the wait on the latest chapter, I spent the weekend plotting some original work and it sort of took over my brain for a while. Also, this chapter has been fighting me. Mostly because I’ve been working on the big Batfam discovery moment and I can’t wait to get there, and having to slow down and write everything in between is soooooo frustrating! But hopefully we’ll get there soon lol. In the meantime, enjoy!

First Chapter

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The next morning finds Jason once again in Tim’s kitchen, this time doing a fry-up of bacon and eggs. He’d been surprised to find either of those things in Tim’s fridge, having appeared as if by magic.

(Jason suspects Tim gets his groceries delivered instead of shopping like a normal person; he’s not going to complain, though, since food is food.)

From her carrier’s usual perch on the kitchen island, Luisa is frowning at him—or at least frowning at his general direction—in disapproval like a miniature, squishy Winston Churchill.

“What?” he asks her, feeling oddly judged. “You don’t like my fryin' technique?” She sticks her tongue out, and yawns, easing back in her carrier. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He’d probably shit his pants if she actually spoke back, but he’s seen stranger things in his life.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp, explosive bang from outside as a car backfires, and Luisa jolts, eyes going wide in shock before she starts shrieking.

“Crap,” Jason grunts, dropping the spatula and hurrying over to pick up the startled baby. Lifting her up, he starts rocking her back and forth, trying to shush her and wincing as the crying just gets louder.

How does such a little thing make such a big noise?

Still trying to calm her, he goes to pick the spatula up off the floor to toss in the sink and glances around for another. Luisa keeps crying, little fists beating ineffectually at him, and no matter what position he holds her in she refuses to let up.

“I know you’ve never heard something that loud before, but don’t you think this is an overreaction?” he mutters, glancing desperately around for the cape Tim was using as a carrier the other day. It’s nowhere within range, and so he turns off the stove and shoves aside the pan to ensure the bacon doesn’t burn while he deals with the baby complication.

As he searches, rocking and shushing Luisa as he goes, he’s getting generally more frustrated at not being able to get her to stop wailing. He’s on the verge of giving up and going to wake Tim—which is embarrassing on so many levels—when he remembers what the kid told him yesterday about heartbeat and skin-to-skin contact.

Making a quick decision, he places the squalling infant on the couch for an instant while he shrugs out of his shirt. Then, ignoring the sense of awkwardness he picks her up to hold against his bare chest, cradling her head in support as he continues to rock subtly, bouncing somewhat on the balls of his feet.

Luisa’s still wailing, mushing her face into his chest almost in protest, and his ears are beginning to ring. But slowly, as the minutes creep by, the sound morphs into weak fussing. Her little ear settles against a spot near his breastbone, right over his heart, and that sound wanes as well.

There’s a sniffle, a wet almost-hiccup in her breathing, and then she goes silent and calm again.

Hey, look at that.

Jason actually managed to calm her down himself, instead of calling for help or putting her down to yell until she tired herself out. He’s not sure why he feels a stab of pride in that, but he decides it doesn’t matter in the face of the now silent baby.

He keeps hold of her until her breathing evens out and she passes out and then returns to the kitchen and the carrier.

Once she’s settled again, he notices that he’s being watched, and glances up to see Tim, ruffled and still blinking sleep out of his eyes even as he studies the scene in front of him.

Eyes raking up Jason’s form, he opens his mouth to say something, frowns to himself and shakes his head.

“I need coffee,” he mumbles at last and slouches into the kitchen to turn on the Keurig. While waiting for it to brew, he turns back to Jason, leaning against the counter and tilts his head to one side. “I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

Jason looks down his front at the All-Caste markings no longer hidden by the baby’s form.

They’re not tattoos. At least, not exactly.

But the real story’s too complicated and not something he wants to get back to the Bats, so he just shrugs and says, “I don’t exactly put out announcements in the Family newsletter.”

Tim nods, ceding the point.

“So, what do they mean?” he asks as his coffee finishes brewing.

“None of your damn business. Don’t you have work?”

The younger man raises an eyebrow. “It’s Saturday?”

Right. Weekends are a thing.

“I do have some online classes to log on for later, though,” Tim goes on. “But I don’t really have to dress up in a suit for that.” He smirks. “I’m not Damian.”

“I dunno—you’re both pint-sized pains in my ass,” Jason retorts, trying to hide his surprise that Tim is still in school. He thought he’d dropped out when Bruce went missing in the timestream; he didn’t realize the guy was still doing that.

God, he’s doing school on top of everything else? How is this kid still alive?

“I’m still taller than he is,” Tim hedges, with a trace of sulk in his voice.

Heh. Think we’ve hit a sore point there.

But he chooses not to pursue it; better for him if Tim’s in a good mood.

“I’m goin' out again today,” he informs him, trying not to grit his teeth at the effort it takes not to make it sound like a question. He doesn’t need permission, damn it! “Have a little conversation with Isabel’s ex, for all the good it’ll do.”

“I figured as much,” Tim replies, unbothered. He sips at his coffee. “Isa and I will be fine. Besides, when I’m done my classwork, I’ve got a lead I want to pursue. I might have tracked down some of Isabel’s blood relatives.”

Jason pauses, ears perking up. “Seriously?”

“I think so. Try not to get your hopes up, though.” He frowns then, tilting his head to one side. “You might want to do something about that before you go meeting with anyone.”

He makes a circular motion around his own forehead.

Nonplussed, Jason wanders toward the mantlepiece and the mirror above it, making a noise of understanding when he realizes what Tim was pointing out.

“Noted,” he agrees, flicking at his hair.

The problem with dying his hair black is the need to touch it up every six weeks; the roots of his natural red coloring start to peek through around then, along with the thick white streak that sprouts from just above the scar in his hairline. The latter doesn’t hold the color for very long, fading to a washed-out gray-white within a few washes.

The upkeep is a pain in the ass, but black hair is a lot less memorable in his line of work, a lesson he learned quickly as both Robin and during his League training.

Once Tim’s settled into his temporary workstation at the kitchen table, with Luisa snoozing within easy reach, Jason takes off.

Like the day before, he commandeers one of Tim’s bikes and heads out to pharmacy near one of his safehouses in Midtown. He figures it’s best to keep any kind of chemical smell far away from the baby, and besides he kind of wants to avoid Tim walking in on the dyeing process. He needs to do his eyebrows, and if the younger man were to make a comment, Jason would have to punch him—which seems a poor reward for someone helping him out right now.

Once he’s applied the dye and is waiting for it to set, he uses the laptop in his bolt hole to remotely access the Cave systems again and brings up the phone records between Isabel and her group of friends, including Jonathan Sutter.

It feels morbid and invasive, but he needs a better sense of who these people are and how to approach them. The texts between her and her friends are the usual thing you’d expect from a group of twenty-somethings making plans or bitching about work. As for the exchanges between her and Sutter, there aren’t that many; it seems their relationship was mostly in person or by phone.

Jason’s relieved about that because he’s not sure he could stomach reading his dead ex-girlfriend’s sexting her boyfriend.

Because I don’t feel creepy enough about this as it is…

He finds reference to a few events they attended together—restaurant dinner, a trip to the opera, a Broadway play—

“Wow, this guy was predictable,” Jason mutters to himself before he finds something interesting.

Sutter’s accounting firm did work on a huge contract with WE the year before, resulting in invitations to one of their charity events. Sutter evidently invited Isabel to go with him, which could provide a good backstory for Jason.

He’s been to those things before, both under protest and undercover, and they all go down the same way. It’s an easy cover for what he needs.

Closing the laptop, he goes to wash the last of the dye off and then showers for good measure. He actually takes more than ten minutes for once, since he’s alone and doesn’t need to keep his ear out for a crying baby. Even when he knows Tim is watching her, he can’t help waiting for something bad to happen.

It’s a bit irritating, actually; he inherited all the worries a new parent might feel about screwing up their kid, and yet none of the connection. It’s not just because he’s holding himself back from it either; he wonders if he had known about the baby—if he and Isabel had been involved during her pregnancy—if he would feel more of a bond to Luisa.

“No point wonderin',” he mutters to himself as he gets out of the shower and towels off. He learned a long time ago that speculating over the ‘what-if’s’ of the past would just lead him down a dark pit of self-pity.

On a whim, he grabs the make-up and prosthetic’s kit from beneath the sink and sets about making himself a disguise. He doesn’t usually bother with disguises anymore—those undercover gigs with Bruce seem far too long ago—but since he’s just testing the waters, he doesn’t want to be too recognizable.

The end result is a passable imitation of the infamous Matches Malone look Bruce cultivated, though Jason makes an effort to look a lot more kempt, before setting out once more.

The cameras he left watching Sutter’s place, as well as the tracker on his car, put him at a strip-mall not far from his home. Upon investigation, Jason finds himself standing in front of a high-priced vegan grocery.

“Seriously?” Jason mutters to himself, wrinkling his nose in disgust. The store isn’t even one of the legit wholesale places filled with locally sourced products, but one of the trendy boutiques, stocked with items that are three times more expensive just to cover the import costs and the brand name.

He loiters around the shelves, pretending to be examining the dozens of different types of Norwegian water while keeping an eye out for his target.

Sutter appears at the head of the aisle moments later, pushing a cart and followed by a young brunette. Younger than him, at least; Sutter’s about thirty, which puts the woman he’s with at about ten years younger.

She says something to him, clearly cheerful and excited, and Sutter replies in kind, accepting whatever package she puts in the cart. She leans up to peck him on the cheek, and then practically bounces away. The minute she’s gone, Sutter’s expression becomes long-suffering. He checks his phone with an air of impatience.

So he’s not actually into his stuff, but faking it for her.

It’s possible that’s just him attempting to be a supportive boyfriend, Jason supposes. But it also suggests the decision-maker in the relationship is the girlfriend, which could be a problem.

Only one way to find out.

He makes a production of turning just as Sutter passes him, and then affects a double-take at seeing him for the first time.

“Hey, I know you!” he declares, earning a look of surprise, followed by the guy looking around with a ‘who me?’ kind of expression. Jason pretends not to see it. “Johnny—John? Sutter, right?”

The man stares at him, apprehensive. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“You don’t remember?” Jason says, affecting an amused chuckle. “Heh. Guess you wouldn’t, I look a lot spiffier in a tux.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t—"

“Peter Malone, Locke Insurance? We met at the WE charity ball last March.” Sutter continues to look wary. “You were there with that knockout—whatshername…Izzy? Annabelle?”

“Isabel?” Sutter supplies, expression slowly morphing from wary to uncomfortable. The expression of someone worried he’s about to be caught out for not remembering a name.

“Right! Yes, her—damn, she was a looker.”

“Yeah…sorry, but I don’t really remember you,” Sutter says, expression clearing, and adopting an apologetic grimace. “But there were a lot of hands to shake that night, so...”

“Don’t I know it,” Jason agrees. “I left with about six new clients that night. Pretty good for a charity event, eh?” He doesn’t give Sutter a chance to reply. “So, you still with her?”

“What?”

“Isabel—hot blond? Legs up to here?”

Sutter’s tone becomes clipped again. “No.”

Jason gives an exaggerated whistle. “Damn shame…damn shame. You two looked like you were having fun.”

“Yeah, well…” Sutter gives a tight smile, eyes flicking away like he’s looking for an exit. “Things don’t always work out.”

“You know if she’s still single now?” Jason prompts, laying on the smarm. “Think you could set us up?”

“I think you’re the last person she wants anything to do with right now,” Sutter replies coolly. “Now, if you excuse me—”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t think she’d be into me? Everyone wants a piece of this.”

“Hope you like kids then,” the man mutters as he edges away.

Jason affects a wide-eyed gaze. “She’s got kids? Damn, she doesn’t look the type.”

He makes it sound like some kind of disease, earning a snort of agreement from Sutter, who says, “I thought so too.”

There’s a trace of bitterness there, one Jason recognizes intimately. He had foster parents that looked and sounded the same. Still, he presses on, pretending to be clueless at the cues the other man is trying to give him to end the conversation.

“Not a fan of the rugrats?”

“Not especially,” Sutter replies tightly. “And raising someone else’s kid? When you work the hours I do? I’ve got a career, my company’s got me flying from the East Coast to the West Coast every couple of weeks, my family’s already complicated—it’d be hard enough raising my own kid, let alone someone else’s.” He looks up as the blond from earlier appears, with some overpriced wafer crackers. “Anyway, nice catching up with you. See you around, I guess.”

He practically takes off at a run.

“Yeah, take it easy,” Jason replies dully. In three sentences, he’s learned everything he needed to know about the guy’s fitness as a parent.

This guy’s a hard ‘no’ then.

Jason leaves the store, mood dark. He takes a few hours to wander around Crime Alley and soak up the comings and goings without anyone recognizing him, before turning to Tim’s apartment via the underground entrance.

“Looks like it didn’t go too well,” Tim says when he sees him. He’s in the process of changing Luisa, who is making noises of disapproval. She doesn’t like to be wet, but she also doesn’t like being cold, so getting changed appears to be her least favorite part of the day.

“He doesn’t want to be involved,” Jason says, not wanting to go into detail. “Which is what we figured would be the case.”

“Well, now you know for sure.”

“All I’m sure about is people suck.”

“So what’s the next step?”

“I’ve got a list of Isabel’s friends to contact. If they seem legit, I’ll see about figurin' out if they want to step up in honor of Isabel’s memory.”

He makes a face at that, knowing how it sounds, but being unable to think up any other alternative.

“I could come along,” Tim offers.

“No,” Jason says immediately. “People see you and they see dollar signs. Either for sellin' the story to the press or pretendin' their decent because they’ll think the kid means you bankrollin' them for the next eighteen years.”

“Point,” Tim says, and there’s a clench of his jaw that makes Jason think that scenario resonated with him personally for some reason. “I still don’t think you should go alone. You need someone along to soften your image, so you don’t come off as a creep.”

“I can be soft if I want to be,” Jason protests, offended.

“I have…no idea how to respond to that that won’t sound like Dick,” Tim tells him. “So I won’t.”

“Magnanimous of you."

“Here’s an idea—call Safiya. Ask if she’ll come with. She might even have met some of these people before.”

“Good point.” Jason makes a mental note to call her later, and wanders into the kitchen.

Noticing that other than the various plastic bottles and hastily closed formula containers there's no sign of plates or take-out, Jason determines Tim probably hasn’t made anything for dinner or even just for himself.

Assuming he even knows how to cook.

He opens the door to the fridge, and just stands there for a long moment, before shaking his head and closing it again when nothing immediately appeals to him.

Jason’s not entirely sure what he wants right now, his stomach growling in complaint for food having to compete with a pervading nausea at the idea of a heavy meal. He ends up cutting up a plate of fruit to tide him over until he can make a decision and wanders over to the space in the living room where Tim is working. Safiya is now nowhere in sight, but the baby monitor is on, the green lights lighting up and fading in tandem with distant sound of breathing.

“She actually let me put her down,” Tim explains when he notices where Jason’s looking.

“You’re the favorite,” Jason retorts, not sure why the idea doesn’t sit well with him. He supposes it’s left over from years of seeing Tim as the replacement everyone preferred to him. Rather than get trapped in that dark line of thinking, he offers the younger man his plate. “Any luck tracking down Luisa’s family?”

Tim absently accepts a few wedges of apple. “Yes and no.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jason asks, throwing himself onto the couch. There’s a groan under his weight, which earns a pissy look from Tim, but the latter doesn’t address it.

“Isabel never told you much about her extended family, right?”

“Beyond the fact that they exist somewhere, not really. We didn’t really talk families, for obvious reasons.”

“Right.”

“She said she and her parents left Bogota before she was two, and if she met anyone before then she can’t remember.”

“Well, it turns out there’s a reason for that,” Tim says and slides his tablet over to Jason. When he picks it up, it takes a minute for his eyes to register the information Tim’s hunted up. “Her parents were fleeing Columbia to get away from them. It seems the Ardila family is in deep with the Medellin cartel there.”

“No shit,” Jason says, eyes wide.

This may actually explain Isabel’s lack of panicking in the face of aliens and mobsters…

“Isabel’s parents sought asylum in the US and eventually qualified for citizenship.”

“How’d they manage that if they were from a crime family?”

“My guess? Being good at bending the truth and having excellent forged documents.”

“Either way, that’s another option off the table,” Jason sighs, letting his head fall back on the couch in exasperation.

Tim hums in agreement and for a few moments, they simply sit in silence against the sense of defeat.

It’s not until the baby monitor suddenly gives a sudden series of noise—bursts of what at first sounds like static, but they then realize are tiny sneezes—that either of them moves again.

“I should check her,” Tim says, but Jason holds up a hand to stop him.

They listen a few moments longer, hear a bit of grumbling across the monitor, and then there’s only the sound of breathing.

“If you’re going to go running every time she sneezes or coughs, you’re going to give her a complex,” Jason informs him.

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Says the guy who was worried she had yellow fever.”

“I wasn’t worried, I was…concerned.”

“Now you sound like Bruce.”

“Take that back, Replacement.”

They glare at each other, but there’s little heat in it. At last, Tim rolls his eyes and looks away.

“On a somewhat related note—” Tim reaches for a file folder and takes out a piece of paper with a table on it, which Jason immediately recognizes as a schedule. Various duties have been written into the cells—feeding, changing, future bath times.

“You actually made one,” Jason says, somewhat disbelieving.

“Of course I made one. This last week, we’ve just been reacting to everything. We can’t keep going like that, and I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of the petty arguments about who does what.”

“Petty,” Jason repeats tonelessly.

“Petty,” Tim agrees. “As you can see here, these are the times when we might consider calling for outside help. I checked with Safiya about what days she’s conditionally available, and even Tam—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—Tam agreed?”

“Well, she agreed for emergencies,” Tim allows. “Like, if it’s raining Joker toxin from the sky kind of emergencies.”

Jason scowls. “Don’t tempt fate with that shit.”

“You know what I mean. If there’s something big going on, she said she’ll cover for us. Since it’s all temporary, and all.”

“Right…” Jason agrees faintly, staring at the blinking lights of the baby monitor. “Temporary…”

The rest of what Tim's saying fades to background noise, as his thoughts are overwhelmed with a sudden worry:

What if we don't find anyone worth taking her?

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

#jaytim #timjay #tim drake #jason todd #babyfic #fanfiction #bringing up baby #accidental baby acquisition #baby isa #fluff #adulting #slice of life

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t0mat0-pot4to · 7 years

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#JayDickWeek2017 Day 3: MirrorVerse

Yeah yeah. I don't dive into the mirroverse fully but maybe next time? Give me time and I'll give you changes.

Yes, it's later than the other two but I couldn't finish it. Ran out of ideas (? Kind of. Partially? Half? 100%?

Two Dicks and two Jasons.

(It's all family friendly. Worry not!)

(It is jaydick indirectly. Can you see it tho? Does it even count??)

Gotham soaked in the cold of the night, like every other day. Two built figures were fighting each other from building to building. Screams could be heard below them as they jumped to the next roof. Bullets were flying near each other, bullets that they couldn't see were they ended.

Dick sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the floor. The shadow of his 'prisoner' covering him, as the pale moon light was behind him. The two of them were silent, forcing themselves to not look at the other.

The two figures were familiar and their indentities were revealed as the giant flashlight from the police zeppelin glowed above them. Nightwing and Red Hood, fighting. The civilians seemed surprised but at the same time worried. Neither of them were tired, neither looked tired.

Jason wasn't so different from his older brother. The only difference was that he held a gun in his right hand as he leaned in the window frame. Eyes fixed on the city, only hearing the wood planks cracklings from his 'prisoner' trying to free himself. Jason had make sure to tie the ropes the best he could.

The two guys didn't talk to each other, didn't even scream to each other like other times when this had happened. There were many recordings of them screaming some non-sense to each other, which can be seen on many blogs and clips around the city. Nobody knew what to do when there was silence between them two.

"Care to explain?"

"What's to explain?"

"You are me. You are Richard Grayson, the Nightwing." His voice soft, as he looked up to see the big grin in his 'prisoner's' face. It creeped him out. "I'm also Richard Grayson, the Nightwing. What are you doing in my universe?"

"A boom tube problem."

It wasn't the Batman who stop them, it was the other members of the batfam and the outlaws who did it. Babs, Tim and Damian to stop Dick. Roy and Kori to stop Jason. The new-comers didn't talk to each other, just glancing every now and then but no talking involved.

"You were fighting Nightwing back there. Why?"

"I wasn't fighting him." Jason from the other universe pointed out, forcing himself to look at his counter-part. It was like facing a mirror, the only difference was that one was standing and the other tied to a chair. Although he was tied up, he didn't even try to force his way out.

"Sure he was."

"So this is who I would have become if Dick didn't do what he did."

Quiet.

Both teams guided their partner back to their safe house, giving them a lecture about fighting for the fifth time this week. Not one noticed the different scars on their faces, the way their usual glow wasn't with them and the way their quietness brought questions. For them, they were the originals.

"Maybe I could use a little explanation...since I know nothing about your universe. And you seem to know a lot about mine."

"Oh my, that'll be so much fun..."

...Ever since Jason died, everything tended to head South. The better their intentions were, the worst the results will be. It pissed everyone off so often it became a daily tradition...

"Great. Seems like I always have to die. In every freaking universe. Amazing."

...Dick was the most affected. Even more than Bruce himself, who was physically there with Jason's body. He had a mental break down and it hurt everyone around him to see the acrobat in his worst. He had began killing...

"Wait...Me? I-I don't...What?!"

...He was really in his lowest. He was so down he lost anything and everything he could grab. Far from sanity. Far from himself. Far from all he had ever believed, everything he was ever taught...

"That sounds so ridiculously familiar."

...Jason eventually came back to life. Tim was currently the Robin, so the oldest decided to take the name of Red Hood. Not leaving Bruce's side for anything, as it was the only thing that was stuck with him. He felt that was what he was meant to do and he loved it...

"Oh...So...?"

...Jason, as Red Hood, became Batman's right hand because Dick, Nightwing, decided to leave. He felt he needed to get rid of evil. He needed to do something and he didn't care for the consequences of his sudden actions...

"Okay...Great...Hum..."

...Compare to the current universe, Dick was the Red Hood in blue while Jason was the Nightwing in Red. Their suits were the same but their roles switched...

"Uh..." Dick was left without words. What can he even say about that? "Dick, well, it's weird calling you that...How about I call you Nightwing?"

"Perfect." He smiled, in a creepy way for his counter-part at least.

"Jason, just let me go. I need to find my Nightwing...The boom tube will open soon and..." He pleaded with a tired voice, one his counter-part hasn't hear in a long time. His desire to be freed and locate his partner was greater than the emptiness that filled his soul, which was a lot to say about his situation.

"Why should I?" Words cold but clearly broken. This is who he always wanted to be but couldn't. He blew his chance up and no there's was no going back. Every single day he regret it. Every. Single. Day.

"It will be better if you stay. With you here, he will come eventually. If what you said about your universe is true, then I trust him more with the talking." Dick, who was clearly concerned about his own safety, got on his feet to back away from his twisted counter-part.

"Worry not dear Grayson, I wouldn't risk having two Jasons after me." Laughter which made Dick uncomfortable, walking farther away from him. His hands were shacking so was his whole body.

"Why are you sure he'll be at Dick's?"

"Babs, Tim and Damian took him when we first landed on your universe. I thought that'll be a better place to calm down instead of the manor."

"Well, we both know how hard it is gonna be if your Dick...Nightwing! Is in the manor...That sounds awful."

"Trying to get into the Wayne Manor or 'your Dick'?"

"Shut it."

"Listen up, Dick. You knew from the beginning I was more than capable...Oh my goodness." Nightwing pressed the knife closer to his counter-part's neck. He could feel the pressure of his blade against the soft skin, which he forced himself not to keep pressing. "You knew all along! You played..." He stopped to chuckle at himself. His left hand, which held Dick's arms, pressed harder as he was getting mader. "Well played Dickiebird. Well played."

"I...I was just wondering." He tried replying, but the air in his lungs was low. The longer he was in that position, the harder it became to breath. The lack of air made him forget the blade against his neck, but soon felt fresh blood.

"You didn't plan this, did you?"

"Now that...You mention it...No. No I did not...plan it."

"You do mind not killing him...? Like, seriously. That's my job." A deeper voice could be heard from the window in front of the bed where Dick was held down. The man didn't enter the apartment, not yet.

Nightwing clicked his tongue, still maintaining his position. But soon let go went the sound of heavy boots landed on the wooden floor, he knew who it was. No need to look back. He knew, all along that they were going to come. At least the timing was perfect.

"Don't be mad, Jaybird, just because I'm doing a better job than you doesn't mean you are that bad." He teased, looking over the Red Hood's shoulder in front of him. No more words were needed to tell that they had beef. They were going to have a fight when they had the chance. They knew it.

"Should I be scared or worried?" Dick struggled to get on his feet but managed. Quite quickly he avoided Nightwing and his Red Hood to get to his own Jason Todd, whom he just pulled to the bathroom.

"Are you crazy leaving them out there?" Jason complained before Dick had a chance to explain, because of the cut and the blood. The youngest suddenly noticed the blood from Dick's hand, which was holding his neck. Soon he went to look for a first aid kit or something similar.

"They know if they do, we are after them." Dick managed to say before letting his hand dropped to his side, before lifting it again to pull his suit's collar down for Jason to help with the cut. It wouldn't be of much help doing it himself with his left hand. "We know each other like mirrors. There's no way they can hide from us, from themselves."

"Doesn't matter what we do or where we hide, they will find us." Red Hood said, pulling Nightwing's arm back and away from the window. He forced his partner to look at him, even with the masks on both faces, their eyes meet. "This is their city. It's not ours. We might know the streets but we have no knowledge of their people. Do you understand me? The Bat is there too. Don't be stupid. You know he will find us."

"Whatever." He pulled his arm back, freeing himself from his partner's grip. For whatever reason he felt watched. Watched by their counter-parts but he knew they were to busy with the cut to care about them. Even though the door from the bathroom was only half close, he felt how they talked about them.

"We get this done, then we go back to our usual business?"

"It's always been that way Jaybird. Do you want it to change?"

Quiet.

"Are you sure it's gonna be here?" Dick questioned, eyes checking their surroundings for any inconvenient guest. The coast was clear, for now.

"Yes. It's something weird that happens with the boom tubes in our universe." Red replied, clinging into his jacket. "Once it's open, it tends to re-open a few times before closing forever and ever. It's an anomaly but now, it's a miracle." He's not nervous. He's calm.

"For the love of...I should take your Jason and you stay with mine." Nightwing declared, annoyed to the extreme. He was standing a few steps behind his partner, but could hear everything clearly. "You guys are made for each other." He's not mad. He doesn't care.

"...You can't take my Jason." Whispered Dick, now with eyes fixed on the roof. For a second he lost himself in a shower of thoughts and old memories. He's not scared. He's brave.

"Like hell I'm going to your universe." Jason wasn't frighten to show his disagreement to said idea. Despite hearing what his partner has said, he decided to ignore it the best he could. It was better than caring. He didn't felt safe. He faked safety*

"I'm just saying, since our beloved partners seem to have such a confident mouth for each other. Plus they aren't the same person so they could be easily be dating or whatever he hell they want." He continued, words still harsh and intended to hurt his counter-part somehow. His anger grew and his hands were fists ready to punch.

Silence. No one talked for five solid minutes. Tension covered them like a blanket and fear and anger were chains to pull it down.

It wasn't hard not talking. Not giving the other some big piece of their mind.

"If I didn't know myself better, I'd bet you're jealous. Tell me if I'm wrong." Dick stated, eyes on his counter-part now. Neither of them showed any expression but soon the other one looked away, frowning. "I'm not."

"Wait, jealous of another Nightwing? Jealous of themselves? You got to be kidding me." Jason was surprised to say at least, or that's what he pretended to be when the news were revealed.

"You are the last person to judge me, street rat. I can assure you that you are feeling exactly like me or worst." Nightwing's words weren't friendly, to Jason they were a total different side of his Grayson. One that he wondered if he should meet. "Call it jealousy but we both have it right now."

Both Nightwing and Jason pulled their partners back, to talk*. Neither were actual talks, just demands for answers that no one knew. The partners weren't surprised but pretended to. Maybe they could play it off a few more weeks. Maybe they could brush it off somehow.

The boom tube opened, both guests left exchanging few words beforehand. Then Dick and Jason were alone in the rooftop. Now there was no more reason for them to be together, nor to treat each other nicely. But maybe they could do it for the night. Maybe until things sunk back to normal.

"Jay?" Dick called, rising his gaze to meet the other's eyes. A weak, almost forced connection was made. Dick's lips curved into a grin, his usual look. "Wanna come over to my apartment? It's late." He offered, secretly hoping he wouldn’t be brushed off insignificantly.

Jason took some seconds to reply, before he actually noticed, he was already following Dick back. He kind of wanted it. He knew it couldn't work. However, he was grateful for the night. Grateful his Grayson was with him. Grateful he had him one more night.

#jaydickweek #jaydickweek2017 #jaydick #Batfam #batfamily #my writing sucks #mirror verse #DC #lateeeee

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ellana-ravenwood · 7 years

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“My parents are gross...ly in love” - Bruce Wayne x Reader (x batfam)

Hi ! I see you all the time in my notifications, liking my stuff, so thank you very much for that @xsxaxjxax, and thank you for the compliment as well !! Here’s your request, I don’t know if it’s any good but hope you’ll like it ! (Oh also, #3.being sickeningly affectionate with each other :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_______________________________________________________________________

You heard them coming in, but you couldn’t care less. And given the fact that your Bruce was still kissing you, he obviously didn’t give a damn either.

It was too perfect to stop. You rarely had time where things could be like that.

Your husband had a day off, and you called in sick just to stay with him, the occasion too good to pass on. You had a wonderful morning together, staying in bed late, enjoying each other’s presence, talking about anything and everything, making love a lot. When you finally got out of bed, you didn’t bother to dress nicely as usual. You both just put on sweat pants and a hoodie, and, hands in hands, went to get your late breakfast.

Your sons were there, and when they saw the both of you coming in, giggling like idiots because their father was tickling your sides lovingly, they all sighed. Oh, that was one of those days uh ? One of those very rare days where you and Bruce didn’t have to worry about anything because things for once went alright, one of those very rare days where you’d almost turn into conjoined twins because you wouldn’t let go of each other for a seconds. One of those days where you grossed out your children on a regular basis.

You sat in front of plates full of scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrowns and pancakes, carefully prepared by your favorite butler (and adopted father), Alfred. Your hand left Bruce’s...Only for him to wrap an arm around your shoulder, and grab a piece of bacon to feed it to you. You snuggle against his chest, his huge frame dwarfing your petite one, and took a spoon full of eggs to give it to him. He handed you your coffee, but you showed him your hands were already full feeding him...He smiled, and bent the mug down for you to drink your hot beverage. Of course, it spilled a bit, as he bent the mug too much...He caught the drop of coffee running down your chin with his mouth, and you giggled some more as you felt his tongue lapping every single one of them.

Dick made a gagging sound. Jason hid behind the newspaper he was reading. Tim made a face of disgust. And Damian yelled a very loud : “EEEEEEWWWWWW”. Bruce turned to glare at them coldly, and you just couldn’t help but smile because you thought their reaction was kinda cute...Your husband said :

-If you don’t like it, leave.

-Don’t mind if I do, father.

And on that note, the kitchen was empty, and you were feeding each other mouth to mouth, unable to erase the stupid smiles you had on your faces. From the corridor, Alfred was looking at you two, and couldn’t hold his smile either. It was a sight he really liked, two of the people he loved the most in this World, being happy and careless for once. It happened so rarely...He went on to scold your children, and told them that they were under no circumstances, except maybe for an emergency, to bother their parents. They’d reassure them by saying that it was so gross, that they definitely wouldn’t try to see them today, too afraid to walk in on them doing...the thing. Ew.

*********************

Unfortunately for the both of you, one of your best friend, Clark Kent, decided that day to come and visit, to check on you guys as you both got hurt pretty bad in a previous mission, a few weeks ago. He actually felt bad that he was coming so late to check on you guys, but he had been so busy in Metropolis lately...

Damian lost at “rock paper scissors” and had to be the one taking your friend to you guys. He went threw most of the manor before finding you guys in his father’s study. He opened the door slowly, and only because he couldn’t hear any of the...sounds you’d make if you were busy doing “the thing”, and gave Clark a warning look. The man didn’t understand, but he would soon get it...It was one of “those days”.

***********************

And so here you were, in Bruce’s study, comfortably sat in one of his huge armchair, his arms around your waist, yours around his neck, devouring each other’s mouth, completely ignoring the boy and the man who just walked in on you. You heard Clark first :

-Wow...Hum...Wow...

Clark’s reaction would have make you chuckle if you weren’t so busy. You could only imagine his face, and wished someone was there to take a picture.

-It’s like he’s not the same person right ?

-Yes. I’m...I’m completely stunned. It’s a bit unsettling to be honest.

-You’ve never seen them together when they’re not working or doing superhero stuffs I take it ?

-Never.

-Yeah, I get it then. It’s surprising to say the least. I personally think it’s gross.

-It’s...kinda cute.

-Of course you’d think that, you’re one of those people.

-”Those people” ?

-Yeah, the ones that just love cheesy stupid things. My dad does someti...

-Could you guys shut it ?!

Bruce, at your great displeasure, finally pulled away from you to face his son and his best friend. His arms stayed around you though. He wasn’t happy, wasn’t happy at all, and the murderous look he gave Superman was pretty self-explanatory.

The kryptonian shifted awkwardly on his feet, and ignored his friend’s hand apparently not able to stop caressing your back up and down softly, and the way you weren’t climbing off of him. He had no idea what to say, this was all so...unusual.

It had always been very clear that the both of you were very much in love. The gentle brush of fingers on each others’ shoulders or cheek, when no one was watching you. The way you two looked at each other, the fire in both your eyes. The worries when one or the other was in trouble on the battlefield...Yes, everyone in the Justice League knew you guys were completely, deeply, and irreversibly in love. But you never kissed or had actual intimate moment in front of them, disliking PDAs above all...So, seeing you two right now, unable to stop touching each other, made him feel very weird. Of course, he just walked in the intimacy of your home, and he suddenly found himself stupid to think you guys weren’t different when it was just the two of you...But still, you weren’t pulling away from each other right now, and he was pretty sure you heard him and your son coming in and yet you kept eating each other’s face !

-Are you going to stand here like an idiot for ages, or actually tell us what you want Clark ?

You elbowed your husband slightly. Sure the man was interrupting a very good make-out session that was probably gonna lead to an even better sex session, but he was still your friends and he shouldn’t talk to him like that...Bruce’s hand slipping under your hoodie and his fingers skimming lovingly on the small of your back changed your mind. Fuck Clark, why was he still here ?

An awkward silence installed itself, until your son broke it :

-Superman’s here to check on you, parents. He was worried about how you recovered from your injuries from two weeks ago.

Your features softened a bit. Damn, why did he have to be so sweet ? You suddenly felt guilty that you wanted him to leave so bad.

-That’s nice Clark. We’re good. Really.

-Yeah...I can see that...

Realizing that you were still on Bruce, you blushed a bit and stood up, ignoring your husband’s groans. Clark was still staring at you, mouth opened. Your husband couldn’t help but say, a bit coldly :

-You’re going to catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that...

-I’m sorry it’s just I never saw you so...eager and all. You were smiling in the kiss...And...it’s just so unlike you two to...

-You’re making it weird Clark.

-Yeah I realized that as I was speaking...I’m...I’m sorry I just...Hum...

He couldn’t finish his sentence, because his best friend’s damn hand was slipping back in yours, and you were imperceptibly getting closer to his side. It seemed like you two just couldn’t stay away from each other...Which was exactly it. Superman also realized in that instant that he should probably come back another time...Took him long enough.

-Well, I’m glad to see you two are...Alright. More than alright if...

-You’re going to make it weird again Clark, shut up.

-Hum. Yeah. Sorry. It’s just...I mean it’s weird...I mean...Ok, I’m gonna go. I’ll come back another day.

-Good thinking Sup’.

You were trying to ignore Bruce’s hand slipping in your sweatpants, and smile at Clark, but damn it was difficult...You just wanted to turn around and attack his lips with yours, but you couldn’t, because your son and best friend were there...Your fake smile made Clark understand he had to leave, now.

Before he even exited the room, you and Bruce were back on each other’s, tongues in each other’s mouth again, and Superman had time to see his friend catching you under your thighs to sit you down on his desk, your legs wrapping around his waist, your hands tearing his shirt off. Clark’s eyes widened, and Damian pushed him out of the room quickly, closing the door behind him.

-I know, my parents are gross...LALALALALALALALALALALALALAAAAA !!

The boy started to sing really loudly as he ran down the corridor as far as he could from his father’s study, closely followed by a very stunned Clark, trying to cover the...sounds that started to escape the room they just left with his loud singing.

Damn sometimes your love was disgusting.

Fin.

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