fanfics....fanfics galore

“That shouldn't be a problem, I don’t need to sleep like that,” he shrugged.

You pressed your lips together, “isn’t it more comfortable laying down though?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You stared at him for a moment, “alright… I’m going to take a shower real quick.”

“Okay, I’ll review the case one more time before going into ‘rest’ mode.” You nodded and grabbed your bag, hurrying into the bathroom. 

You took your shower quick and dried your hair. You stepped into the main room and saw Connor still sitting on the car. His eyes were closed and his LED was spinning blue. You hesitantly took a few steps closer and knelt next to him. He sat with perfect posture in the chair with his hands place in his lap. You tilted your head to the side and continued to observe him, each feature putting you into a trance. If you squinted you realized you could barely see the seams that ran along his body.

“Y/n?” you jumped onto your feet and looked at him squarely. You had been so distracted that you didn’t realize he opened his eyes, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah- yup!” you cleared your throat, placing a hand on your chest, “I- um, I’m going to sleep. G’night.” You began to walk to the bed.

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly confused, “Uh, goodnight.” You tugged the top of the blankets free and scrambled under them, eager to get out of his sight. You could feel your heat beating out of your chest and was sure Connor could see it too.

You silently lay there as your heart rate slowed down, and your breathing, and your mind. You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you shot straight up in bed. You were gasping as your eyes darted around the room, not yet used to the darkness. 

Your eyes landed on a familiar light shining from the desk, “are you alright? You seem to have had a nightmare.” You didn’t say anything, you only continued looking at him. Although it was more like for him, you could see the vague shape he was making but nothing else. “Y/n?” he asked, slowly walking towards you.

“I’m okay,” you muttered, sleep still heavy in your voice, “it was just a stupid dream.”

“Will you be able to get some more rest?”

“Probably not,” you groaned.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you shot him a confused look, “sometimes humans require comfort inorder to go back to sleep.”

“Oh no- you don’t have to,” you stammered, shaking your head.

“Staying up before a busy day will have negative affects on your health and on your ability to complete assignments.”

“I’ll be fine, I don't need you to help.”

“I would like to if that’s okay with you.” He smiled, artificial muscles flexing as he expertly tilted his head to the side. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, he nodded eagerly, “that’s fine i guess.” You tried to sound annoyed and reluctant although you were sure he could see through it. His LED flashed yellow as you slid to the other side of the bed. He began to climb in with you before you stopped him, “uh uh! First off you need to take off your shoes,” you pointed. You continues as he pulled them off, “next, you need to take off your outer jacket.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye and smirked, “oh?”

“Not like that,” you felt your face flush and swatted at him, “we just don’t need you overheating or anything…”

“You seem to be overheating,” he teased, pulling his jacket off and setting it on the night stand. He leaned forward and rested his cool hands on your cheeks, “but it’s not like you’re wearing much…”

You placed your hands on his wrists, “it’s these blankets-”

“Your hands are cold, you can’t fool me,” he laughed, quietly, almost to himself.

“I thought you wanted me to go back to sleep,” you muttered, “you’re only keeping me up.” He cast you a lopsided frown, sticking his bottom lip out.

“Fine, I guess I’m done for now,” he released your face and stepped off the bed. 

“Good,” you watched as he adjusted his shoes so that they were neatly next to the bed. Once he finished he climbed under the covers.

There was a lot of shuffling before both of you had found a comfortable position facing each other, “is there anything else that would bring you comfort?”

Honestly, you couldn’t even remember the nightmare, “no, this is alright.”

“Okay.” He watched as you fell asleep and waited a few hours before moving as he didn’t want to wake you. He shifted so that he was resting on his back. It was easier to go into rest mode without having to worry about balancing. He glanced at you one more time before allowing himself some more rest.

You woke up slowly, Connor made sure not to startle you awake, “y/n it’s time for you to wake up.” You groaned and stretched. Just as you were about to complain about five more minutes you realized you were on top of him. You quickly lifted yourself up so that you were hovering over him.

“Um, sorry about that,” you awkwardly laughed, moving to get away from him.

He held your waist, keeping you close, “it’s fine, I did offer to help you get rest last night.” You watched as his eyes flickered to your lips. His LED spun yellow.

“Do you wish we didn’t get any?” you teased breathlessly.

It flashed red as his eyes met yours, “kinda,” he huffed.

You leaned forward until your lips were right next to his ear, “well that just sucks doesn’t it?” you whispered. You rolled off him and began picking out your clothes for the day, “You should get ready too, although I love the look, I don’t think the others would appreciate seeing you with bed head.”

however, you underestimated just how much booze the .1% could consume in an evening. traipsing back and forth across the ballroom in a constant duck and weave routine to avoid twirling couples, you would get to one side of the party, only to find your tray of champagne completely barren, and would have to trounce back into the kitchen for more.

and, of course, there was the uniform. you felt like a penguin, clad in a black and white romper that was so tight to your body it was giving you a perpetual wedgie. the neckline felt gratuitous in its dip, as did the sleek, black pumps that were murdering your poor feet.

moreover, you could feel a pair of piercing eyes on you every time you made another round. he was posted near the corner, arms crossed and had been wearing the same scowl since you’d first walked in. you knew who he was because of course you did, but you couldn’t find the nerve to actually meet his gaze— keeping your eyes fixed at the flutes balanced on your crystalline tray, instead. why was he glaring so hard? did you really look so out of place? or maybe it was the sheer ridiculousness of your outfit that he was looking at with disdain. but, if that were the case, why did you feel his stare on your face, as if he were trying to catch your gaze? moments felt like hours as you prayed the remaining glasses would disappear faster so you might have a reason to escape to the back again, but it seemed like Lady Luck was having too much fun in watching you stand there, blushing like a fool, trying not to look like you knew he was staring at you.

you fix your eyes to the dance floor, crowded with gorgeous women in gaudy gowns and dazzling jewels and their dapper companions, twirling and dipping them. it was almost like something out of a fairytale, a royal ball where every man’s suit probably cost more than your dented, little Camry parked outside. for a moment, you try to imagine what it might be like to be there, instead of on the sidelines, serving drinks. was it fun? freeing?

“Do you even know how to ballroom dance?” it was a curt question that comes from your left, cutting through your daydream and pulling you back to reality.

it takes you a moment to realize Damian had stepped up beside you, but now that you were aware of his closeness, you couldn’t think of anything else. the warmth of his figure, the softness of his suit, and the hints of sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne. “Um… no, not really.” you replied, bashfully looking towards your feet, “Just what I’ve seen on, like, The Princess Diaries.” you tried to chuckle, to make a joke of it, but he didn’t reciprocate. your awkward laugh hangs in the otherwise silent air and you force yourself not to roll your own eyes. what a lame attempt. you clear your throat, looking at your nearly empty tray. three left. just three.

“Dance with me.”

three words that had you blinking incredulous, unsure if you’ve heard him properly as your attention is directed towards him. he’s staring at you again, eyebrow quirked, both arms folded over his chest and his clear eyes were narrowed. did he look this angry all the time?

“What?”

“I don’t like to repeat myself.”

blinking again, you zip your tiers for a moment, and that’s when his hand stretches out, palm up, practically commanding you to take it. and you want to, but your hands are full. “I— I’m working.” you offer, sheepish, just as the last flute is plucked from your tray. you’re supposed to rush back and get another round, so you hug the tray close to your chest.

“Clearly. But I didn’t ask, did I?”

“What if I… get in trouble?”

Damian’s gaze hardened, his fingers barely twitching. “You won’t.”

you look down at his hand, and then back up to his face, stoic and expecting you to accept, but you can’t bring yourself to abandon a wage and make a fool of yourself in front of Gotham’s Elite. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Wayne. But I need to… uh…” gesturing over your shoulder, you took a couple of steps back, bumping into a gentleman’s back and sputtering an apology before you turned and hurried towards your roommate. maybe you could walk back with her. she sees you coming, a partial smile forming on her face until she sees the tense expression on yours. you grasp her arm pulling yourself close to her whilst your footsteps fall into a rhythm with her own.

“Hey! Were you just talking to Damian Wayne?” she asks; she sounds starstruck at the mere prospect. “What did he say to you?”

you sighed, “He… asked me to dance with him.” you pause, before shaking your head. “Well, demanded I dance with him, actually.”

her countenance screws into bemusement, “And you didn’t?”

those three words made you feel ashamed; perhaps you should’ve. you frown, indignant, and gesture to the tray in your hands. “No, I’m a little busy, remember?”

“Yeah but, come on, you can’t just reject Damian Wayne.”

why not? you wanted to ask. what the hell made him so special, other than his family name, anyways? what gave him the right to talk to anyone the way he did to you? you reach the door to the kitchen, only for her to stop in her tracks, putting a halt in your step as well.

“Oh, my god, he’s coming over here!”

“What?” you don’t look, you can’t, because your face is already on fire with another blush.

“He’s coming over here!” she repeats, giddy, and urges you to turn around. “Good evening, Mr. Wayne!” she gushes. you follow her lead, sheepishly glancing back up at him. his eyes are just as hard cut, as if carved from diamonds, and his brows are knit together. he doesn’t even acknowledge your roommate, he’s much too busy glaring at you. making you feel two feet tall. you shrink beneath his stare.

you half expected him to tell you to get lost; after all, he could’ve kicked you out of the party, couldn’t he? but, he doesn’t. his hand shoots out, wrenching the tray from your grip with a swift snatch, and he tosses it on top of your roommate’s empty tray in her arms, which she catches and holds tight, watching with big eyes. your heart is beating like a drum, and you swear he can hear it. but Damian doesn’t say a word. his stone features fixed on you, he grasps your wrist, tight, and drags you to the dance floor. he was determined to get this dance. you stumble along behind him like an uncertain puppy dog, looking around. “Mister Wayne, I really shouldn’t…”

“It’ll only be one dance.” he says, matter of factly, pulling you close to his body. you hit his surprisingly solid chest with a huff of surprise, blinking. impressive.

“Everyone’s staring at us.” you mumble, sheepish, feeling gazes of disapproval. you must’ve looked hilariously out of place out there, stumbling, clad in a server’s pantsuit, amidst the modelesque women in their long gowns and sparkling gems.

“So?”

“So…” you exhale, incredulously, “you might be used to that but I’m more of a fade in the background type of girl.”

Damian’s eyebrow arches, both hands firmly taking hold of your waist. “So then only look at me.” he commands, and you find yourself compelled to obey, eyeline drifting back to his. you reach up, carefully bringing your hands together at the nape of his neck. “And let them fade into the background.” you give a little nod, and he takes the lead.

your steps are clunky at best, and the heels weren’t helping, but instead of allowing yourself to overhear what the other guests had to say about your lack of skill, you simply watched Damian. his eyes would lock with yours every now and then, but mostly he studied your face, as if examining every pore. you noticed he didn’t even flinch when you stepped on his toes, which you did quite a bit. “Sorry.” you whisper, face heated.

“I knew you couldn’t dance already,” he replies, almost flippant.

“Then why did you want to—“

“Because you’re the only one here I want to dance with.” Damian cuts you off, holding you close to his body. whilst the other couples had fallen back into their own waltz, and their partners twirled them, you noticed Damian was holding you too tight to do that. as if he didn’t want to let you go, even for a second. “If that means you trip over my feet a little, I’m willing to deal with it.”

it takes you a moment to realize your mouth is hanging open, and you close it promptly, feeling flushed. what could you say to that?

“I kinda feel like I’m one wrong step away from breaking my ankle in these things.” you admit halfhearted, glancing towards your feet. whilst his move with such certainty, yours are awkward and unsteady. you give a little, awkward chortle.

Damian leans closer to you, so close that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. “I won’t let you fall. I’ve got you.”

there was something about him that was oddly charming. sure, he was incredibly blunt and, honestly, pretty rude, but when he ensured that he’d keep you upright, you believed him. and you felt a wave of relief washing over you. you hug closer to him, giving in to the urge to rest your cheek against his chest while you sway in tandem. his heartbeat was steady; in contrast to your thumping one, he seemed cool and collected. you wished he could give you pointers.

“What happens when the song ends?” you ask, almost fearful to do so. this already felt like some lucid dream that you might wake up from at any moment, the last thing you wanted to do was hurry it along. “Will you still have me?”

YN wouldn’t like the smell. He’d have to change when he went back in. Maybe he should’ve stayed in his Red Hood gear— perhaps it wouldn’t have held the smell like his hoodie would.

No; He hadn’t wanted to stay in that gear for another minute, much less fifteen.

He had been freezing when he came home— wanting nothing but the comfort of sweatpants and his girlfriend. But he needed to take his edge off first, or else he’d stay up all night. Tossing and turning.

YN had work in the morning.

Luckily, he had early patrol this week. He was actually home at a decent hour; He was able to spend time with her.

His tired eyes cracked open, sliding across the sparse view from the fire escape.

A pair of booted feet dropped down onto the metal platform. Nearly silent.

“Are you going to stay out here all night?” Damian demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jason sighed through his nose, taking another drag of his cigarette before cutting his eyes back over to his brother.

“Are you gonna stop dropping by my apartment unannounced?” He rebutted, flicking the ash away.

He wondered how long Damian had been perched on the rooftop, waiting for him to move. Jason was already twelve minutes in— on his second cigarette.

He had gotten antsy and deviated from his plan of waiting Jason out. Dropped down anyways.

“Those aren’t healthy.” Damian stated, nodding to the stick between his fingers.

“Gee, thanks.” Jason droned sarcastically, tilting his head to blow smoke in the opposite direction. “Why are you here?”

“I have business with YN.”

The older boy rolled his eyes, a soft ‘tch’ coming from his mouth. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, his free hand coming up to run through his hair and tug at the roots.

“You’re like twelve.” Jason met his brother’s eyes in a blank stare. “Just say you wanted to see her.”

Damian’s face warmed, despite the chill that had settled in over the atmosphere as night set in over Gotham.

“Didn’t you stop smoking months ago?”Damian wrinkled his nose, eying him suspiciously. “Does YN know you’re out here?”

Jason rolled his eyes. The only person the little brat had to get along with would be his girlfriend. Whether the cause be cosmic karma or just Damian trying his damndest to annoy him.

“I’ll throw you from this fire escape.” He threatened.

Damian’s left brow lifted. After staring at Jason for an unprecedented amount of time, he finally huffed before ducking through the window. His cape smacking Jason in the face.

Jason growled, every neuron of his brain telling him to reach in, grab the little jerk, and hold him by his underwear off the platform.

It would upset YN, but how much was he willing to undergo the silent treatment?

Damian made sure his steps were loud enough to alert Yn. As brilliant as she was, she was still a hopeless civilian. The tiniest of squeaks could go by unnoticed.

He was sparse in his evaluation of the apartment— it rarely changed form, as both Jason and YN were far too comfortable to actually change any aspect of the living quarters.

As usual in the apartment, Jason had books strewn about. Most were face down, still open. Others were stacked and piled on any flat surface available. Blankets were piled on the sofa, where a basket of unfolded laundry also sat.

Damian grit his teeth— nearly bursting a blood vessel— at the sight of the coffee table. Pieces of his red hood armor sat out in the open, along with multiple handguns and knives.

Didn’t he understand the simple concert of vigilante and secret?

He tried to smooth his expression over as he approached the kitchen— where he could hear soft humming and the clank of glassware.

“Hey, Damian— everything okay?” YN asked. She lifted the glass measuring cup to the light, squinting at the lines— bringing the cup closer to her face.

Damian frowned; She needed glasses. If he pointed it out again, she would just brush him off again.

Stubborn as a mule.

“Fine.” He replied, disinterested as he pulled a barstool out. Plopping down, his eyes glued to Yn’s actions. “Your boyfriend is smoking on the fire escape.”

YN exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head at how fast Damian was to snitch on his brother to her. It had been discovered that when it came to her, the boy was always looking to start a hate campaign against Jason.

Because YN deserved way better than Jason Todd, and Damian was not shy to hold his opinion to himself.

“Better than inside.” She assured him. Damian’s brow lifted suspiciously.

“You’re letting him do it?”

YN’s movements slowed, her lips pursing. Damian saw her swallow her first thought, keeping it quiet.

Even though Jason ‘forbade’ him from doing it, Damian still looked up a background on the girl when she first came around the Manor. She and Jason had been dating for five months before her first visit.

He didn’t really care what Todd had to say— he was running a background on her.

He wasn’t sure of what exactly he had been expecting, but what he found wasn’t it.

Two restraining orders issued on a pair of brothers, several pages of wellness checks by the police (all which ended with the officers being escorted off the property with no other words being exchanged).

Her medical records were also chock full of ‘accidents’.

So Damian had a pretty clear idea of why she rarely spoke her mind. That was something he assumed Jason was working on with her.

“He’s had a rough week.” YN excused, her brow creased as she stirred her dry ingredients together.

“That is enabling behavior.”

Okay, so he was also working on it with her.

He’d never admit it. Not even in front of God Themselves.

YN exhaled a short laugh, her face warming exponentially. It was pathetic that a twelve year old had more self worth than she did— even worse that he was teaching her to be better.

“Okay. I’ll talk with him about it.” She murmured, keeping her eyes low. Damian hummed, content for now. “What’s going on, Shortstack?”

“Father enrolled me in an extracurricular.” He announced, crossing his arms and propping his elbows on the counter before him.

“What is it?”

Damian never understood why YN was such an apt listener. Even to the most boring of conversations.

He would hate to see her in a gala situation. She would be stuck for days.

Not that Todd would ever bring her to one, but should he ever, he would have to stick close by her. Nothing to do the fact that he would actually enjoy it for once. Of course not.

“Fencing.”

YN paused at the venom behind a single word; She tossed a glance over her shoulder at the young boy. His brows furrowed and a look a genuine dissatisfaction on his features. Damian habitually had a hint of that face permanently.

“Did you want to do that?”

“I am already the best in the class.” Damian droned. The words were supposed to be good words, but his voice made them seem depressing. His eyes cut over to hers— narrowed and annoyed. “We’ve had two lessons.”

“You’re bored, then?”

“Extremely.”

“Did you say any of this to him?” She asked, keeping her focus on her task. This was always the best way to obtain information from nearly all the Wayne boys. Coaxing information without direct confrontation. Anything to make them feel less vulnerable. Except Dick— he spilled secrets without a second thought. “What other choices did you have?”

“There’s… “ Damian’s voice instantly perished, his throat closing and keeping the thought locked in. His face warmed uncomfortably. He cleared his throat before trying his luck. “I was interested in taking… piano classes.”

A beat of silence fell over the kitchen.

Just the noise of YN scraping what seemed to be a pie crust out onto a pile of flour.

A small seed of anxious doubt buried itself at the apex of his heart. Worming its way through the muscle.

He put too much trust in her, he shouldn’t have spoken. It wasn’t too late to snap at her and leave the apartment. He could—

“There’s nothing wrong with piano, Damian.” YN spoke up, once she realized he was awaiting her response.

For all his eccentricities and independence, Damian was still just a boy. YN, while she never babied him, spoke to him as such. Encouraged him to delve into his own interests— something other than the League or Robin or Batman.

She was having better luck than Bruce, at least.

“I don’t know how Father will react.” He cautioned.

YN clicked her tongue softly, nodding her head. She had learned long ago that Damian had many facades for many different occasions. He was very good at pretending and acting indifferent. Especially when it came down to his father’s approval.

“Just explain your thoughts. If he has a problem with it, tell him to come see me.”

Damian hummed, the corner of his mouth tugged uncontrollably.

It was the closest YN had ever gotten to a smile.

The closest anyone had ever gotten from him.

“You cannot fight Father, YN.” He decided, shaking his head. “You will lose.”

She laughed, wiping her hands off before crossing the room. YN pulled the chair out right beside his, scooting it over to give him his space.

Then she laced her fingers together and leaned her forearms against the table.

With her attention solely on him now, Damian could feel the shift. He often felt that shift with her; Where her attention was on him and him only. It always made him feel like he was the only person in the world— like Gotham could be in flames outside at that moment, but she wanted to hear every detail about his day.

No wonder Todd had an ego the size of North America.

“Point is, sometimes two can be better than one. Make sense?”

“I suppose.” Damian agreed. YN smiled warmly.

It almost made him want to smile back. He would have, had the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. A soft noise in the next room ripping him out of the falsified world YN had smothered his senses in.

In the next moment, Jason’s broad shouldered form came striding through the doorway. He had stripped off his hoodie, down to his t shirt; Forearms on display, as well as the scars that laced his skin.

“Hey, babe, we’ve gotta start closing those windows. We’re getting cockroaches in here.” Jason swatted at Damian’s ear, keeping his body out of the boy’s range.

It didn’t stop him from leaping out of his chair, nearly fuming. Jason snorted: it was always so easy to rile him up. No matter how much training or discipline Damian touted about, he was still a kid with his brothers, and he would always be so easy to make angry.

“I’ll show you, cockroaches, Todd.” He growled, rocketing forward. His shoulder caught Jason’s stomach, hauling both of them backwards into the wall.

Jason grunted at the force, grappling to gain a grip on Damian’s uniform. Gripping the cape, he brought it directly over the boy’s head, holding it over his eyes.

It only infuriated him further.

Damian’s hand slipped down to where his sword hung at his hip. Yn’s eyes widened as she shot back to her feet, prepared to involve herself if the situation got sticky.

“Hey! Not inside!” She threatened, stepping forward once more. Damian shoved away from his older brother, scowling. Jason had the nerve to smirk at the obedience the boy portrayed when it came to YN. “We might not have a lot of nice stuff but we are civilized.”

“Some of us.” He cut his eyes down to the short teenager at his side.

Damian’s elbow prodded into his ribs; The older boy winced, reaching out to smack him.

“Jason.” YN warned.

“Fine.” He stepped away, a deep pout on his lips.

“I have to go anyways.” Damian broke away from the melee group, beginning his exit.

“Hate for you to miss bedtime and story time.” Jason teased, grinning at his own clever remark.

Damian didn’t flinch; He continued on his path toward the window, stopping at the doorframe to turn back around and announce:

“I will slip in under the cover of night and steal your kneecaps to make decorative bowls out of them.”

“Yeah, right.”

YN rolled her eyes and spun on her heel, going back to her original task.

Jason immediately saw his opportunity to get closer to YN and took it, without care of the four foot child-man in the room.

He curled his body around hers, arms winding around her to pull her closer. His chin propped on her shoulder— gently swaying.

Damian’s mouth tugged into a sharp frown at the blatant show of affection.

“Gross.”

“My apartment, dumbass.” Jason snarked.

“Goodnight, YN.” Damian sighed; His lip curled as his eyes raked over the overly large man, clinging to her body. “Todd.”

“Gremlin.”

He didn’t reply further, simply turning on his heel and slipping off into the apartment. Jason listened for his feet on the grating of the fire escape, the tell tale whizzing noise of a grappling hook, a cape whipping through the air.

Once he was sure Damian was gone, his attention returned to where it was always meant to be.

He exhaled sharply, a small shake of his head— the best he could do, seeing as he’d melded their bodies together.

“God, that kid is weird.” Jason’s words were muffled by her skin, as he pressed his mouth against her shoulder.

“He’s a kid— he’s supposed to be weird.” YN’s lips curled in the corners, amused at his tone.

She could have told him that he shouldn’t have spoken against his youngest brother’s eccentricity. She could have told him that she recalled stories a certain butler had divulged to her over tea one afternoon.

It would’ve done no good— not at this proximity. Jason would just press himself closer and drown her teasing out with slow kisses until she forgot what she was saying.

It happened more often than not.

“Not like that he’s not.” He grumbled. YN rolled her eyes, continuing her task of chopping strawberries. Jason’s hand snuck off her waist and to the pile to snag two of the fruit pieces. “What are you making?”

“I went by the farmers market and found these,” Yn lifted a small green basket of ripe strawberries, bringing them to his face and shoving his nose into them. “Don’t they smell good?”

“Yes, Christ.” He hissed, his head jerking back. YN laughed at his faux annoyance, biting down on her bottom lip. Jason pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek and backed away, leaving a swat to her backside. “Didn’t answer my question. Did you get any more of those fruit tart things?”

He opened the fridge door, perusing the items in search.

“Yes I did— top shelf.” Jason snagged two from the box, using his elbow to close the door. “And I’m making strawberry pies. One for us and one for Wayne Manor.”

“Ugh. Why do you insist on being nice to those assholes?” He whined, nearly melting against the appliance.

“They’re your family, Jason.”

He frowned.

While over the past few years, Jason’s connections had become significantly less strained with his family, he still didn’t completely feel that he fit in with them.

He had missed so much— too much. The bitterness and hatred had swept him away. Sometimes he still felt that wave crash into him as he sat with them, watched as they fit so well together.

It was why, when he found YN, he didn’t share any information. Barely visited them.

He wanted a home again.

He wanted her to be home. Specific and special for him.

Jason was always selfish with her.

“You’re my family,” He argued. Dropping his dessert into a napkin, Jason approached his girlfriend. His hands resting low on her hips, his head peeking around to her face. “They are the estranged wealthy vigilante group on the side.”

“They are not, hard ass.” She scoffed; She shifted in his hold where they were face to face. “It’s at least for Alfred on your behalf, then. Better?”

Jason grunted, pursing his lips.

YN leaned in to press a quick kiss to his mouth, an attempt to sate him.

Jason caught her three more times, each kiss longer than the last.

She broke away, both hands coming to his chest. Jason stared down at her, mostly her lips. Anxious to kiss her again.

“Speaking of your family, Steph and Cass wanted to come over sometime next week. Girls night.” YN explained.

Jason’s head fell back, a loud groan slipping from his chest. The noise vibrated from his body into her own, as he hugged her closer.

“I’ve gotta get more cigarettes.” He whispered to the ceiling, causing her elbow to jut out into his belly gently. “They’re gonna have you all night, I won’t see you at all. Steph talks way too loud and Cass just hits me in the dick as a greeting.”

YN bit down on her lip to suppress her grin. She had definitely not been present when his siblings decided that it would be a good idea for Cass to start doing that to Jason. And she certainly didn’t laugh every time Cass did it, either.

And since Cass was pretty much terrifying, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Fine— go stay at the manor that night. You won’t have to watch the movie with us, or eat the pizza we order.” YN shrugged, untangling herself from him.

Damn her: she knew he was a sucker for a movie night.

“What movie?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to appear nonchalant. YN only wiped her hands on a kitchen rag.

She got close to his face, close enough he could feel her breath against his skin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She murmured, tweaking his nose. Backing away quickly, she winked before spinning on her heel and disappearing down the hallway.