You Weren’t As Good As You Said You Were.

┆WARNINGS .ᐟ read on ao3, + 18 content, eventual smut. fem!reader. it's a messy love triangle. i'm following the canon/comics. reader is an honorary member of the batfamily. very slowburn. reader is jason todd's childhood best friend. there is a 6 year age gap between dick and reader.

FIRST CHAPTER ──── ❛❛I THINK I WOULD REMEMBER IF YOU HAD THAT FACE.❞

CHAPTER SUMMARY ──── ❛❛You never wanted that stupid scholarship or to attend a school full of snobby rich kids. But then Jason Todd showed up, and suddenly, you felt… something.❞

NEXT ﾉ MASTERLIST ﾉ READ ON AO3.

──── GOTHAM ACADEMY, GOTHAM, NEW JERSEY. EARLY 2011.

Rejection is probably the worst thing a pre-teen could feel.

It settles on your small shoulders like a heavy, tattered cape, dragging you down with every step. Your eyes stay glued to your shoes, two sizes too big, scuffed, hand-me-downs from your older sister’s high school days. The worn soles squeak softly against the polished floors, echoing through the hallways in a way that makes you feel painfully exposed. Around you, the other kids laugh in crisp uniforms, their shoes shiny and perfectly fitted, their backpacks glossy and new. The smell of polished wood and lemon-scented cleaner fills the air and every whisper of laughter, every glance at you, feels like a spotlight shining on your differences.

Your hands hang awkwardly at your sides, fingers brushing against the oversized sleeves of your blazer. Your mom couldn’t afford to buy a new uniform, but thankfully your neighbor’s daughter had been a scholarship student at Gotham Academy too, and now you have a set of her old blazers, one of them swallowing your frame. The skirt is another story, your mom patched the gaps with so much care that it almost hurts to look at it, the stitching holding more love than it could ever be fashionable.

“Are you kidding me? They just accept anyone these days. Bruce Wayne must be losing it,” you hear from behind. Four boys are passing by, their voices loud and casual, but every word feels like it’s meant to land right on you. The tallest one has messy blonde hair and a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. He glances you up and down, lingering just long enough for you to feel the weight of his judgment.

“Whoa… did you smell that?” he adds, laughing, and his friends snicker along with him. You shrink into your oversized uniform, tugging at the sleeves as if hiding could erase your presence. Your patched skirt and too-big shoes suddenly feel heavier, every step squeaking against the polished floor like it’s announcing your wrongness to the whole hallway. You force your gaze down, wishing the walls could swallow you up and make them forget you exist.

When the bell rang, you nearly bolted toward your classroom, slipping inside as quickly as you could. You didn’t dare look at anyone, didn’t pause to meet a single pair of eyes. Instead, you went straight for the last row, sliding into the corner seat like it was the only safe place left in the room.

The chair was surprisingly comfortable, far sturdier than the wobbly desks back at your old public school. Even the air here felt different, quieter, sharper, like everything at Gotham Academy had been built to remind you of how far you were from home. For the first time that morning, you let out a shaky breath, thinking maybe, just maybe, you could disappear here.

But then a shadow fell across your desk.

“That’s my seat,” a boy’s voice drawled. He stood over you, arms crossed, a smug grin tugging at his face. It’s the same blonde from the hallway. His friends lingered behind him, already laughing as if they knew how this would end. You froze, hands clutching the edge of the desk, heat rising in your cheeks.

He leaned closer, wrinkling his nose like you were some kind of disease. “Ew… do you always smell like that? Cheap, nasty perfume—my maid wears better stuff than that,” he sneered. “I can smell it from here. You’ve basically ruined the whole row with… whatever that is.”

His friends burst into loud, cruel laughter, the sound echoing off the classroom walls like it was meant to humiliate you. A few kids glanced over, some giggling, others quickly pretending they hadn’t noticed, like they didn’t want to be associated with someone like you. You felt your stomach drop, shrinking further into yourself, wishing you could vanish into the floor. But before you could even move, another shadow fell over the desk.

“Back off, Jordan.”

The voice came from your left. You looked up and saw a boy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes standing there. He didn’t move closer, didn’t shout, but the weight in his tone made the room feel heavier.

Jordan's smirk faltered. “Excuse me? Do you know who you’re talking to? My family—”

Your savior’s lips curled into a sharp, unreadable smirk. “Yeah, I know your family. You’re horrible with chicks just like your dad, huh? Wife-beater behavior runs in the family.”

The words hit Jordan harder than anything else could. His friends froze, unsure whether to laugh or retreat. Jordan's face went red with anger, his smugness cracking, but he opened his mouth to defend himself.

“My dad… my family—”

He cut him off, deadly serious. “I don’t give a fuck about your dad. Back off before I break your nose.”

Jordan’s scowl deepened, lips pressed into a tight line, but he finally stepped back, muttering under his breath. The black haired boy dropped into the seat next to yours and gave a small, almost invisible nod.

“I’m Jason,” he said, his tone casual, but there was a sharp edge to it, the kind of confidence that made it clear he wasn’t someone you messed with. On the surface, he looked like a regular rich kid, fancy shoes, hair perfectly in place. But his eyes… They carried weight, the kind of intensity you didn’t usually see in someone born with a silver spoon in their mouth. He leaned back slightly, one shoulder brushing yours, and gave a small, half-smile. “Don’t worry about Jordan. He acts like he’s got a stick up his ass all the time probably because his dad’s a disgusting piece of shit.”

“His dad?” you asked, surprised.

“Uhm… Mayor Hamilton Hill,” Jason said with a shrug, like it was common knowledge.

You glanced toward Jordan, who sat a few rows up with his friends gathered around him, tossing out half-baked jokes to lighten his mood. But he wasn’t laughing. The moment he felt your eyes on him, his head snapped back, and his gaze locked onto you, sharp, furious, like you’d trespassed into a place you didn’t belong.

It was insane. He didn’t even know you, yet the hatred was already there, simmering in the way his lips curled. It wasn’t just about a seat. It was about the uniform you wore that didn’t quite fit, the scuffed shoes on your feet, the patched skirt stitched with love instead of money. To him, you weren’t just a new student, you were a reminder that not everyone at Gotham Academy came wrapped in silk and gold, and he despised you for it. But your twelve-year-old brain didn’t hold onto things for long, and your attention shifted the moment class began. Physics was first, and you let out a quiet sigh as you pulled your notebooks from your bag.

The teacher started scribbling equations across the board, symbols and numbers flowing together like another language. You stared at them, eyes wide, as if you’d just been asked to solve rocket science. Back at your old public school, lessons had been slow, basic, sometimes the teacher didn’t even bother showing up. Here, though, everything moved too fast, built on foundations you’d never been taught.

Your pencil hovered uselessly over the page. It wasn’t just that you hated numbers, it was that you’d never been given a real chance to understand them. And now, surrounded by kids who nodded along like it was nothing, the gap between their world and yours stretched wider with every line the teacher wrote.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, shame settling heavy in your stomach. You shifted, hoping no one would notice.

But someone did.

Jason leaned back in his chair, glancing sideways at your notebook. He didn’t say anything at first, just smirked faintly, like he’d already figured out what was going on. When the teacher turned back to the board, Jason muttered low enough for only you to hear, “Don’t sweat it. Half these rich idiots don’t actually get it either—they just pay people to make ’em look smart.”

He tapped his pencil once against his desk, casual. Before you could give him more than an awkward smile and a straightened, whispered “thank you,” your teacher’s voice cut through the room.

“Alright, let’s see who was paying attention…” His eyes swept the class, finger pausing before landing right on you. “You—new girl. Can you answer this one?”

Your stomach dropped. The chalk marks on the board blurred together, numbers and symbols turning into a jumble that made your chest tighten. You gripped your pencil so hard it might snap. A couple of kids twisted in their seats to look back at you, some already smirking, waiting for you to trip.

Jason didn’t give them the satisfaction.

“She knows it,” he cut in smoothly, his tone sharp enough to snap the tension. He leaned back in his chair with a cocky grin, eyes locked on the teacher. “But if you’re really trying to put someone on the spot, pick me. I like this crap.”

A low ripple of laughter moved through the room. The teacher frowned, hesitated, then sighed and called on another student instead. The whispers quickly faded, the eyes on you turning back to the board. Jason glanced sideways, his smirk softening into something less sharp, almost reassuring. The knot in your chest began to ease, and you found yourself giving him a small, uncertain smile in return. Maybe, just maybe, you hadn’t walked into Gotham Academy completely alone.

“Mom, I’m home!” your voice echoed down the narrow, dimly lit hallway of the apartment building as you kicked off your shoes by the open door. The soles were caked with grime from the Narrows, subway dust, rain-slick asphalt, and everything else Gotham liked to cling to you on the walk back from the station. No matter how polished and pristine the Academy looked, the streets you crossed to get home never let you forget where you really lived. The apartment was small and warm, and smelled faintly of onions sizzling in a pan.

Your mom stood in the kitchen, still in her diner uniform, apron strings knotted tight around her waist. Her hair was falling loose from a bun, and she looked bone-tired, but her face lit up the second she saw you.

“There’s my smart girl,” she said, stirring the pot before wiping her hands on her apron. Her face looked worn, and the smell of cheap coffee still clung to her, but her smile was full of pride. “How was your first day?”

“It was nice, I guess.”

She tugged gently at your shirt and skirt, inspecting the seams with a frown, worried her stitching might not hold up through a long day. “Don’t forget—I need that uniform. I’m washing and pressing it tonight, no excuses.”

From the living room, your brother called out over the blaring baseball game. By his grunts, it sounded like the Gotham Knights were losing again. He was stretched out on the old couch in a clean T-shirt. Rare sight “Come on, ma,” he said, a grin in his voice. “She’ll survive one day at school without you wrapping her in bubble wrap.”

Your mom just kissed your forehead, “Go get cleaned up before dinner.”

You passed your brother in the living room. His feet were kicked up on the scratched coffee table, a pile of magazines teetering nearby. The couch sagged under him, its faded fabric dotted with crumbs and the faint smell of sweat and sawdust from work.

“Mom’s going to kill you for that,” you muttered, glancing at his scuffed boots by the door. He’d been working construction since he dropped out of high school, putting in long, dusty days at sites all over the Narrows. He always smelled like concrete and sweat.

He just reached out and ruffled your hair. “Go shower, Ankle Biter. You stink.” He sniffed dramatically and recoiled, waving a hand. “Wait… is that mom’s perfume?”

You wrinkled your nose.

“You know that stuff’s ancient,” he said, gasping as if he’d just uncovered a crime scene. “Seriously, go shower before she notices.”

Chances were, she had already noticed, not just the perfume, but that you’d tried to borrow some of her makeup. A bit of foundation under your dark circles, a touch of mascara, last night had been rough with your older sister’s newborn crying nonstop. But your mom was too kind to say anything, letting you slip by, proud of you no matter how small the effort to look presentable for the new school.

“Tony, take your dirty feet off my coffee table!” you heard your mom yell as you shut the tiny bathroom door behind you. Something thumped against the couch, probably whatever she had thrown at your brother this time. From the front door, your sister’s arrival reached your ears, your nephew babbling nonsense only she seemed to understand. You laughed and shook your head, slipping out of your uniform. The noise and chaos of the apartment faded into the background, a comforting white noise as you stepped into the shower.

But your moment of peace was short-lived. A knock at the bathroom door sounded insistent.

“Come on! I really need to pee—these pregnancy hormones are no joke!” your sister shouted.

The perks of having only one bathroom in the whole house.

“You’re not pregnant anymore, Simone,” you said, opening the door, already dressed in your Superman pajamas. She barged in, practically shoving you aside.

“She better not be!” your mom yelled from the kitchen as the baby reached up to tug at her hair.

Simone had become a teen mom last year, after six months of secretly dating the crackhead who lived down the street. You were pretty sure he was too old for her and he hadn’t paid a cent in child support. That’s why she dropped out of high school in her senior year, taking a job as a cashier at the corner bodega just to make ends meet. You still remembered the shouting matches between your mom and her.

And Tony? Well, he dropped out of high school in his junior year after your dad bailed, leaving your mom to raise three kids on her own. Since then, he’d stepped in, not just as a father figure, but as the one keeping the household afloat.

They were over the moon when you got the scholarship. You could see it in your mom’s eyes, in Simone’s beaming smile. In Tony’s quiet praises. For the first time, someone in your family was getting a shot at a real education, a chance to step out of the struggles of the Narrows and into something bigger.

At the dinner table, you carefully recounted your first day, making it sound smooth and easy, because you didn’t want to worry them. You left out the tears in the girls’ bathroom during lunch, and the awkward encounter with the mayor’s son. This was your moment and you wanted them to share in the pride, not the doubts.

Tony pushed his plate back slightly, crumbs clinging to his fingers. He leaned back in the chair. “Nice to hear your day was all sunshine and rainbows, Ankle Biter,” he said, voice teasing but gentle. “But… don’t you have homework? I doubt Gotham Academy goes easy on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll get to it.”

Across the table, your mom was sneaking glances at you while eating, and Simone cooed at her baby, mumbling something.

That night, you helped with the dishes. It was just you and your mom in the kitchen, steam curling from the leftover food as she slid containers into the fridge and you dried the plates. The apartment was quiet except for the clink of dishes and the low hum of the radiator.

“Mom,” you asked quietly, glancing up at her, “can you help me with my homework?”

She froze for a second, the spatula hovering mid-air, before straightening her shoulders like she knew exactly what she was doing. “Uh… of course,” she said, her voice a little too bright, a little too confident. You could see it in the way she smoothed her apron and tried not to fidget, homework had never been her strong suit, but she was determined to make you feel like she had it under control.

You smiled at her, and she returned it, though just barely. The tremor in her hands betrayed the confident posture she was trying to wear. You could see it in the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot, biting her lip, fumbling with her apron—your mom trying so hard to seem capable, even though you knew she’d never finished school.

You sighed softly and headed to the bedroom. Simone and the baby were already lying across her bed, the little guy murmuring an incoherent babble, while Simone was reading a copy of People magazine, her eyes caught on an article about Kim Kardashian’s whirlwind 72-day marriage that everyone had been gossiping about. You grabbed the textbook the school had handed you, opening it to the first chapter.

“I need to write an essay about Little Women by Louisa May Alcott,” you said, setting the book on your lap. You could feel your mom lingering in the doorway, hesitant, hands clasped together like she wasn’t sure whether to leave or step in.

“Uh… yeah, okay,” she said finally. “I… I can help. Sure. Sit down.”

You patted the spot beside you. She sat, sinking onto the edge of the bed with a little groan, the mattress dipping under her weight. Immediately, you noticed the way she scanned the page like it might explode in her hands, brow furrowed, lips pressed tight. She glanced at you, clearly anxious, pretending she understood, but the way she tapped the page with her finger betrayed her.

You looked at your mom with soft eyes, taking in the tired lines on her face and the slight tremor in her hands. You’d never seen her reading a book your entire life. Gently, you kissed her forehead.

“Mom… I actually asked my new friend—uh, Jason—to help me with this earlier,” you said casually. Sometimes, lying isn’t wrong—it’s just protecting someone’s feelings... “He promised to explain the parts I didn’t get, so you don’t have to worry.”

Her eyes widened a little, a flicker of relief, and maybe guilt, crossing her face. She tried to hide it with a nod. “Oh… right. A new friend,” she said, her voice just a little shaky. “That’s… good. That’s… really helpful.”

She stood up from the edge of your bed and shuffled around the cramped bedroom, fumbling slightly as she grabbed your uniform from the pile of laundry on the chair. Her shoulders were hunched, and the dark circles under her eyes betrayed just how little sleep she’d had.

“I’m going to wash it and press it,” she said, trying to sound firm.

“It’s midnight, mom… you have work tomorrow,” you protested softly, reaching out to stop her.

She paused and turned to you, giving you a small smile. The corners of her eyes crinkled, and she brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “Just go to sleep, pretty girl. I’ve got this,” she said, her voice gentle.

For a moment, the hum of the radiator and the soft creak of the floorboards filled the apartment. You watched your mom from the bedroom doorway, folding your uniform carefully.

Once she was done, you closed the door behind you and walked over to Simone, who was lounging on her bed with the baby beside her, the TV flickering in the background with Keeping Up with the Kardashians. “Hey, have you read this book?” you asked, holding up the textbook.

“Of course not,” she replied without looking up, her eyes still fixed on the magazine. “I tried watching the movie with Christian Bale, but it was so boring I couldn’t even finish it.” She nodded toward the TV with a faint smirk. “Honestly, this show is way more entertaining.”

You rolled your eyes and sat down next to her. “Well, one of us has to actually, you know… learn something.”

She snorted, tossing a blanket over your lap. You closed the book and leaned closer to her. “Sure, Professor Ankle Biter.”

Slowly, your eyelids grew heavy. You drifted off with your big sister gently stroking your hair and with the soft weight of your nephew curled against you, drooling lightly on the sheets.

You didn’t see Jason again until four days later. By then, you’d noticed he had this strange habit of skipping school for days at a time and then showing up with fresh, unexplained bruises. This time, it was a swollen black eye, dark and raw against his skin. At lunch, the cafeteria buzzed with voices and clattering trays, every table crowded with clusters of friends, except his. He sat alone, hunched over, picking at the food he wasn’t eating.

“You should put some ice on that,” you said quietly, stepping up behind him.

Jason glanced up. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” His voice wavered just a little.

You shifted the Little Women book in your hands, hugging it against your chest, not sure what to say next. He noticed, his gaze flicking to the cover.

“You finish the essay yet?”

You shook your head. “Not even close.”

Something in his expression softened. “Good,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair. “Makes me feel a little better.”

You sat down, facing him, heart racing slightly. But you didn’t answer right away, and the silence stretched until he let out a long sigh. “It shouldn’t take long. Little Women’s an easy book.”

“Yeah, totally easy. I can read it with my eyes closed,” you said, shifting in your seat. But Jason caught it—the way your hands fidgeted with the spine of the book, the slight awkward twist of your shoulders. His gaze tracked every movement like he was piecing together a puzzle.

“You never read it, did you?”

“Mm… no.”

“You didn’t understand it?”

You shook your head, bracing yourself for a sarcastic jab, maybe even a laugh. But none came. Jason just sat there, studying you with that bruised face and tired eyes. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table like he was debating whether to bother. Then he huffed out a breath. “Alright. Look. Little Women’s not rocket science.”

You tilted your head, clutching the book tighter. “Easy for you to say.”

He smirked faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his bruised eye. “Okay, so—you got four sisters, right? Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. They’re dirt poor, but they’re trying to keep it together while their dad’s off fighting in the war.” He paused, making sure you were listening. “The book’s really about how they deal with growing up when everything around them kinda sucks.”

You blinked at him. “That’s… actually a lot clearer than how our teacher explained it.”

Jason shrugged. “Yeah, well, teachers like to make things sound fancy. Truth is, it’s just about family. Each sister’s got her thing—Meg wants to fit in, Jo doesn’t want to be told what to do, Beth’s sweet but too quiet for her own good, and Amy… well, Amy’s Amy.”

You bit back a laugh. “That’s it? That’s your literary analysis?”

His lips twitched. “Hey, I didn’t say I was writing your essay for you. I’m just giving you the cheat sheet. Point is, the story’s not about big words or whatever—it’s about trying to do right by your family even when life kicks you in the teeth.” His voice softened at the edges, like maybe he wasn’t just talking about the book anymore.

For a second, neither of you spoke. The cafeteria noise buzzed around you, but at that table, it was just the two of you.

You looked down at the cover of Little Women and then back at him. “You’re… actually kind of good at this.”

Jason smirked again. “Don’t spread that around. Gotta keep my reputation.”

“Yeah, sure but... Thank you,” you said quietly.

He leaned back, starting to wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve read this book a bunch of times, so it’s—”

“No, not just about the book,” you cut in, heat rising in your cheeks. “I mean… standing up for me. For not letting Jordan humiliate me. Or our teachers.”

For once, Jason didn’t have a quick comeback. His smirk faded into something gentler, almost surprised, like he wasn’t used to anyone noticing that side of him. He rubbed at the edge of his tray, looking everywhere but at you.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, voice low, “somebody had to.”

Neither of you said anything after that, both of your faces heating up. Jason’s eyes dropped to his bruised knuckles, and you found yourself fiddling with the corner of your book.

“So, uh… did you start the physics homework?” he asked suddenly, like he needed to change the subject fast.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Okay, then. We’ll do the essay together, and after class we’ll tackle physics.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? I mean—I don’t want to bother yo—”

“Just give me your mom’s number,” Jason cut in, his words quick and clumsy. “I’ll… I’ll ask Bruce to talk to her. You can come over to my place. There’s more room to study there.”

You blinked. “Bruce?”

His body went rigid. He scratched the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at you. “Uh—Bruce Wayne. He, uh… adopted me. I’m… adopted.”

You froze for a second, eyes wide, your mouth opening and closing like you were about to say something smart but failing spectacularly. “Wait… so… you live with Bruce Wayne? Like… the billionaire guy?”

Jason’s cheeks flushed, and he jerked his hand toward the tray in front of him. “Yeah… but it’s not like I’m rich or anything, okay? Don’t tell anyone.”

You nodded frantically, heart racing, words tripping over themselves. “No, no! I—I won’t! I promise!”

He gave a small, awkward smile, and the cafeteria noise faded into the background, leaving just the two of you. Awkward, a little embarrassed, but strangely… allies in all of this.

┆NOTES .ᐟ Jordan Hill and his family aren't OC's. Fans of The Batman: The Animated Series might recognize him as the Mayor’s son. He’s not actually a jerk in canon, but I needed someone to fill the bully role here. Canonically, Dick Grayson was a Gotham Academy student in both the Young Justice comics and the show. I read Issue #408 and the subsequent issues covering Jason’s origin and didn’t find much about the school he attended before his death, but I decided to place him in Gotham Academy for the story.

┆NOTES .ᐟ A few small changes: I decided that the beginning of the story will take place in the early 2010s, with Jason and the Reader being 12 years old. The references and technology at the start will follow that period.

┆NOTES .ᐟ As an author, and especially one who writes "reader x" fics, sometimes the absence of a nuclear family for the MC makes me relate to them less as real people and more as ornaments in someone else’s story. Coming from a big family, being poor, and growing up in the Narrows are experiences that shape our reader and her perspective.

Never before had David flown so fast. He didn't care about the sharp, cold air nipping at his face or the whipping winds practically pounding in his ears. Hell, he didn't even care if someone happened to look up and see him flying across the night sky. 

All he cared about was getting to Max's house as soon as physically possible. His brothers were in danger and nothing else mattered.

The sheer speed of his flight was enough to get him to the house in a matter of minutes. By the time he burst through the front door, he was heaving from being so out of breath. Across the room in a sleek, leather chair sat the man himself. Max was remarkably calm, considering David had practically kicked his door down. In one hand he held his favorite smoking pipe, and in the other he had a book open. To any other person, he was the picture of an all-American, wholesome father figure.

David would never accept such an image. Max was a monster, through and through.

"Why David, what a surprise!" the older vampire greeted him, a smile stretched across his face as he looked up from the page he was on. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I am so not in the mood for these games, Max," David spat. He stormed over to his sire, smacking the book out of his hand and letting it fall to the ground. "Where are they? Where are the boys?!"

Max simply sighed at David's actions. He took hold of his glasses and brought them down to his shirt, carefully rubbing an invisible smudge with the fabric. 

"You know, David, it would not kill you to start off with a simple 'hello' from time to time," he sighed. "I should have known this was going to happen. They've clearly only encouraged your terrible manners. This entire plan I had was just one big mistake."

"Don’t blame the boys for the way I am! They didn’t do any-"

"I'm not talking about your brothers," Max interrupted. "I'm talking about the Emersons."

Any anger that David had felt in that moment had stopped in its tracks. It had been quite a while since Max had brought up Michael and his family. He was certain that the party crashing had made his sire shut up permanently about his plans for the humans. 

He must have been displaying his confusion quite obviously because Max continued with a more thorough explanation.

"Yes, my boy, your old man did in fact make a mistake. I know I'm not the best at admitting when I'm wrong, but I certainly was this time. I shouldn't have pushed for this plan to blend our families together. I'm glad you didn't end up changing Michael."

David cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Never in all the decades he had followed Max and his commands did he ever hear an actual, genuine apology. His sire would always insist he knew best or that his plans would always work out in the grand scheme of things.

Hearing Max admit to being wrong was so gratifying. If he hadn't been worried sick about the others, he would have had the biggest, shit-eating grin on his face. Instead, all he could do was express some skepticism.

"And why do you say that?"

"Well, isn't it obvious? Their family is....how do I put this nicely....uncouth."

David could feel his gloves tighten around his fingers as he unintentionally squeezed them into a fist. Any negative talk towards the Emersons royally pissed him off. Michael and his family were the best thing to ever happen to him in his life. They were a far better family than Max could ever dream of being.

"Excuse me?"

"Am I wrong?" Max continued, crossing a leg over his knee and leaning back in his chair. "They're loud, obnoxious, crass, and to be perfectly honest, I loathe that trash they call music. I thought Lucy was a darling little southern lady, but she just encourages those hooligans she calls her sons. I think it would be best for everyone if I were to simply move on to something else."

"So...you're not gonna have me pester Michael about sharing the blood?"

Max shook his head, that damn smile still stuck on his face. David was getting sick of looking at it. Max would have been more convincing if he were wearing a mask rather than attempting to show genuine, positive expression. 

"Correct. We needn't bother with such company," Max explained. "You can go ahead and stop spending time with them. It won't be necessary any longer."

The blond vampire didn't even bother to hold back the scoff that came out of his mouth. He couldn't believe the audacity of his sire. Their blood bond aside, the man could not control the choices that he made. All of the Lost Boys loved the Emerson family far too much just to ditch them like Max would. 

"Oh, fuck off!" David snapped. "You can't stop me from spending time with them, Max. I do whatever I want, whenever I want. I'm sick of you and your stupid rules. Punish me all you want, but you're never gonna change who I am, old man. So back off!"

"Now you know well and good that this kind of behavior isn't becoming of a vampire your age," Max scolded. His glasses had been discarded, forgotten on the side table next to his chair. The smile he once wore had swiftly morphed into a deeply disappointed frown. 

"Your brothers would certainly agree. After all, I've given them a very rigorous lesson on what is to be expected of them as my spawn."

In a brief moment, David’s world came to a screeching halt.

His body froze over with an icy shot of terror running through his veins. His hands went clammy and began to tremble. The worst thoughts and scenarios flashed in his mind like some kind of grotesque horror movie.

"What....wh-what did you do?"

"The same thing I do whenever you cause trouble for me," he said. "I punished them."

Once again, the sinister smile had returned to his face. It only worsened David's fears. 

"Oh, boys!" Max called out, not breaking his eye contact with David. "You can come out now. Come say hello to your brother."

The silent air slowly filled with the soft sounds of footsteps from down the hall. As they got closer to the room, the more obvious it became that something wasn't right. When the boys finally stepped into the room, it was clear to David why exactly that was.

Dwayne, Marko and Paul were practically dragging themselves along. They all were either limping, hobbling or just off balance with their movements. If their pained movements weren't enough a clue that they'd been through something, then their appearances certainly were. 

David was horrified to see that his boys had been battered and beaten. Their eyes were swollen almost completely shut with black eyes already taking form. Dried blood was smeared across their scalps, noses and lips from the gashes carved into their skin. Bruises were blooming over their jaws and around their necks. The patterns clearly showed that someone had tried to choke them out. Their clothing was tattered and covered in gore, much like they were after a hunt. But the dark color of the stains and the slight shimmer in the light told David that it was their own blood, not that of a human. All three of them looked utterly exhausted, barely left with any strength to stay standing upright. 

His heart ached in his chest, devastated to see such pain. A thick lump caught in his throat as he could feel the tug of tears ready to fall from his eyes.

"Y-You..."

"Oh no no, I can't take the credit for this," Max nonchalantly explained. "I didn't lay a single finger on them. I can assure you they did this to themselves. Or rather....did this to each other."

Max's brown eyes briefly flashed to gold, a clever way of showing that he had exercised the power of control he had over the boys and their minds. A closer look towards their hands proved that Max was being truthful. All of them had bruised and bloodied knuckles. Flecks of red and mauled skin were stuck under their fingernails. 

A thick, bitter flavor shot up David's throat, making him sick from the disgust he felt in the pit of his stomach. 

"Wh....why....wh-why would you d-do this...?"

Max tutted and rose from his chair, his height dwarfing David as it always did. He reached out to cup a hand over David's shoulder. The younger vampire was powerless to stop him or move away. The haunting sight of his family beaten within an inch of their lives had paralyzed him. 

"I believe I made myself perfectly clear when I said there were consequences when you do not listen to me, son." Max stated. The sharp tips of his claws were making an appearance once again. They threatened to dig into David's skin under the coat, just as they did at the video store.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to take your brothers home, help them feed until they've fully healed, and then you will go about your life like normal. You will not ever speak to the Emerson family again, especially Michael. If I ever find out that you do, then I suppose I'll have to extend my methods to him as well. Then again, I don't know how well he could handle it, given that he's human."

There was no holding back the tears now. Thick, warm drops swiftly fell down his pale cheeks, the dread of what Max could possibly do to Michael overwhelming his senses. He would rather drop dead than let any harm come to the man he loved. 

David could not speak. He was certain his silent tears would become terrible sobs if he tried. So, all he did was nod. Accept the words of his sire, and seal his fate. The idea of life without Michael was his worst nightmare, but he wouldn't dare put him in any danger. If not for his sake, then for the sake of his vampire brethren.

"Very good. You three are free to go," Max spoke to the injured spawn.

In a mere second, the boys crashed down to the wooden floor they stood on. They cried and winced as the sudden force of gravity worsened the pain they were in. It was like watching puppets get their strings sliced off. Such an act was all too fitting for a man like Max. That's all his children were to him. Puppets to control and then toss to the side when he grew tired of using them.

While Dwayne was able to gather enough strength to slowly lift himself back up and aid Paul, Marko was still in far too much pain to even attempt to get back up. David rushed to him in a flash, wrapping his arm around the back and throwing one of Marko's arms over his shoulder so he could lean on him for support. Blood quickly began to soak into the side of his jacket. Even through the thick fabric he could feel that the bones in Marko’s arm were broken.

It killed him to see his boys in this state. They horror they must have experienced being forced by their master to hurt one another. It broke his heart. 

Still, he couldn't bring himself to think about how much worse of a heartbreak Michael was going to face. This was the most despicable situation he could have ever found himself in. And Max knew that all too well. He only hoped his sire would leave the human and his family out of this if he did in fact stay away. 

"Let's go home, guys," David said somberly. It would be the first time in a long while that they would head to their cave at the bluffs and not the warm, cozy home of the Emersons. They were going to be worried about the boys not showing up, but there was simply nothing they could do.

David only hoped they would find it in their hearts to forgive him someday.

"Any sign of them yet?"

"I'm sorry, Michael, but they still haven't been around."

The weekend had come and gone, and Michael hadn't seen his boyfriend or friends the entire time. He had waited patiently that first night for the boys to return home and meet Cookie the cow. David had seemed so enthusiastic about his buddies meeting the newest calf on the farm.

So, when the nighttime slowly morphed into morning and they still weren't home, he understandably got confused. When he noticed that the Triumph was still parked in the driveway, he started to get worried. He took his ATV out at the first light of dawn to go looking around Santa Carla for them. With the wind in his hair and fear in his stomach, Michael was determined to make sure they were okay. 

When he went by the cave and found their hangout space empty, he decided to scour every inch of the city that he could possibly find. The beach, the boardwalk, the trails, the woods, and every store and business in sight. Since they liked to go by Max's video store the most, he popped in to ask Maria to keep an eye out for them. He even asked that she give him a call if necessary.

To his dismay, there hadn't been any sign of them. Maria knew how much they meant to Michael. It was such a shame to see him so dismayed as they talked over the counter at the video store. 

"You seen Max 'round here either?" he asked her. Even if he hated the guy, that was still David's father. If he was around, then David had to be too.

"Actually, Max took some vacation time," Maria explained. "It's been a bit calmer lately now that school is back in session, so he's just taking some downtime."

"I see," Michael sighed. "Well just give my mama a call if you see them before I do."

Maria nodded, sympathetic to his situation. He gave her a wave ‘goodbye’ as he shuffled out of the store, the disappointment weighing heavy on him as he did so. It just didn't make sense to him. It was as if the boys vanished into thin air, but he knew it really wasn't like them. 

Dreadful thoughts danced around in his mind, fueled by his anxiety of the worst possible situations. Even if it turned out they were perfectly fine, he still missed them terribly. Dinners at home were a lot more silent, and he couldn't bring himself to pick up his guitar without David there to play along with him. 

Their absence was affecting the rest of the family too. Lucy still cooked grand meals, but sadly had to put more food in the leftover containers each night since there were less mouths to feed. Sam hadn't even spoken to anyone since the night David left. He'd shut himself in his room, not talking to anyone unless it was the Frog brothers over the phone. Grandpa insisted they’d be back soon, but there was a touch of uncertainty in his voice.

It was all just so lonely and hopeless without the others in their family circle. All Michael could do about it was drag his boots along the planks of the boardwalk and hang his head in sorrow. He imagined he looked just like a lonesome little hound dog. All sad, puppy eyes and pitiful-looking pouts. Michael just couldn’t take this. He just wanted his Huckleberry back.

He would have kept on going if something hadn't caught his attention on the boardwalk.

Off to the side, practically hidden in the shadows behind a chain-link fence were two bright-colored shapes. Michael raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, but he was rather interested in seeing what it could be. 

Michael moved past the light crowds of people as he got closer and closer to the spot he had his eye on. When he finally got up to it, he realized just what it was he was looking at. 

Flowers. Long, green stems with a full bloom of petals. They boasted bright shades that rivaled that of the sunset he saw every day. He didn't expect to find such unique flowers in such a random spot, especially in autumn. 

He sighed to himself, reminiscing about that special first date he had with David. Seeing these flowers reminded him of the lovely rose he was gifted. It seemed that everywhere he turned there was something that sparked a memory he shared with David. It was a rather bittersweet experience to say the least. 

“David…” he sighed to himself. “I wish I knew where y-”

His words cut off without him even realizing. The train of thought was lost once it dawned on him what flowers he was looking at. Foxtail lilies.

Foxtail. 

Without a second thought, Michael sprinted off back to where he left his ATV parked, kicking up dust and dirt as he went. He had to move as fast as he could push himself to go.

He knew where to find David.

Another cigarette was lit up to smoke. Was it his tenth or eleventh? The pack was getting light, but David didn’t even bother to keep track. All he’d done since he woke for the night was hide away from the world and smoke by himself at Foxtail Grotto.

The others were still healing after their gruesome night at Max’s house. David had hidden them as deep as possible in the caves so that nobody would possibly find them during their recovery. Not even Star or Laddie were allowed to see them. It would have been traumatizing for them to see the boys in such a state.

He must have brought at least two dozen victims to their hideout for a thorough draining. Any vagrant, nobody or tourist he could find was fed to his wounded friends. They all drank heavily and slept through both daytime and night, allowing their bodies to repair themselves with the power of the blood. 

Still, their journey to recovery wasn’t done quite yet. Max had made sure the damage they inflicted was thorough. The boys still had some bruises and cuts to heal up. David only wished their suffering would end faster. 

When he wasn’t taking care of them, he was all alone in the wilderness. His thoughts were so jumbled that it was the only thing he could bring himself to do. All the while he couldn’t stop thinking about Michael. What Max had demanded of him was possibly the worst punishment he’d ever given David. He would have happily taken a beating of his own if it meant he could still be with Michael.

To his dismay, Max’s word was final. He could never see his true family again. He wouldn’t allow more people he loved to get hurt. The best thing he could do for their safety was stay away from them.

But that didn’t mean Michael was going to do the same.

The familiar roar of an engine filled the otherwise silent landscape. David whipped his head around in surprise, the headlights of a red ATV shining directly on him. The fresh cigarette slipped out of his fingers and snuffed out in the sand at his feet.

“DAVID!” a southern drawl called to him. Out from the shadows came Michael, sprinting towards David as fast as he could.

Before he could even get a word out, Michael body-slammed him with a massive bear hug. He gripped David’s shoulders and back tightly while pressing feverish kisses all over his cheek. When he finally let go, he nervously fumbled with his hat, trying to keep it from falling off.

“There you are! Hell almighty, you scared the goddamn shit out of me!” Michael scolded him. He sounded exhausted. “Where did you go? What happened to you??”

The brunet boy pulled away to get a better look at David’s face, desperate to look into those eyes again. Though the expression that looked back at him was not one of relief or happiness. It was more akin to fright. As if he had been worried about Michael finding him.

“How…how did you find me?”

“Well…it’s hard to forget a place like this after that special night we had, Huckleberry,” Michael smiled sheepishly. 

David could hear the rush of the human’s heartbeat at the mention of such memory. He had missed that sound more than anything.

“No…” he said. “I’m not your Huckleberry. You can’t be here, Michael. I can’t do this with you.”

Michael’s head tilted slightly to the side while he raised an eyebrow. Surely he didn’t hear that right.

“David, what are you talkin’ bout? Is somethin’ wrong? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

David wanted to pull him into his arms and never let go. Tell him that he could never do wrong by him. That he was always so happy to have the human boy in his life. But he just couldn't. All that he could think about was Max breaking Michael, in both body and spirit. 

"No, Michael, it's nothing you did. It's me..." David explained. "We can't be together anymore....I don't love you..."

The silence hung thick in the air. David held his breath, waiting for his lie to sink in with Michael. It had to be enough to work properly.

"Yeah, nice try, slick," Michael smirked. "You wear your heart on your sleeve when it comes to how ya feel 'bout me."

Shit. He should have known that wasn't going to work. Michael was absolutely right, and not even his best attempt at lying could deny that. The blond let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved fingers. It was difficult not to be frustrated with all of this.

"Look, darlin', whatever is goin' on, you can tell me. I can help y-"

"NO!" David snapped, raising his voice. "Dammit, Michael, this isn't some little problem you can fix! You need to stay away, or bad things are going to happen!"

Michael tensed at the sudden change of tone. David stepped away, turning his back to the human boy. He was running out of ideas, and he couldn't even think straight with Michael looking at him. 

"I'm just gonna hurt you, Michael, and I can't let that happen. There's something dangerous that I deal with. Something that is gonna put your whole family at risk."

"David-"

"I'm serious! Go away, Michael, or you'll just make it worse."

"Why should I?"

"THIS IS WHY!"

A piercing screech rang out as David sharply snapped back around. His face had morphed into that of his vampiric appearance. His mouth stretched open to display the deadly row of fangs he had. The blue of his eyes had melted into the color of gold, with  red, jagged lines taking over the white space. 

This wasn’t how he wanted it to happen. Michael learning about the secret he carried. But it was all he could think of to get him away. 

“JESUS FUCKIN’ CHRIST!” Michael yelped. He stumbled backward, his eyes widening in shock as he took in what he was seeing.

“I’m a vampire, Michael!” David hissed out. His voice was deeper and raspier than before. His back was hunched and his arms outstretched, showing off his predator stance that he’d use for hunts. “We all are! Me, the boys, Star, even Laddie. We’re killers, Michael. I’ve been slaughtering the innocents of Santa Carla before your goddamn grandpa was born!”

The heartbeat he heard from Michael before was now ramped up faster than ever. It was echoing in his skull with the fierceness of its pounding. What would have delighted him from any other person just made him feel worse in this situation.

“You should have listened to Sam and those Frog brats. Now go! Run away from the big, bad monster! Don’t ever come find me again!”

Surely this had to work. Michael could see all of the viscous beast he had locked away for months now. All those sweet images he once held of David being his lover would be replaced by the vision of a bloodsucking creature of the night. He’d get away as fast as he could, and David would never be at risk of putting him in any danger from Max ever again.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Michael stayed in place. Though sweat poured from his face and his body shook in terror, he didn’t run away. It could have easily blamed it on shock, so he tried even harder.

“GET OUT OF HERE, MICHAEL!” he growled, baring his fangs and talons even more now.

Still nothing. If anything, Michael’s reaction was only softening. His expression did not hold fear, but rather a deep sadness. As if he had…pity. 

“D-David…”

“Goddammit, why won’t you leave me?” the vampire asked, the demonic tone slightly fading. Now he was the one struggling to hold his look properly. He could feel those pesky tears making an appearance once again.

Even in the face of a monster, Michael still had the same love in his heart. His entire understanding of the world and the reality of who was in his life was flipped upside down. Not even in his home state of Texas had such a wild thing happened to him.

But he just couldn’t look away. He couldn’t abandon David. Though his body felt the fear, his heart just wouldn’t deny the feelings he still had.

“Huckleberry…I-” he whispered.

David had enough. He couldn’t take this any longer. If Michael wouldn’t run, then he would instead. 

With a swift turn of his body, David pushed himself off the ground and soared into the inky, night sky. Shadows covered his trail as he got away as fast as he could. If this was the last time he’d see Michael, it wouldn’t be the image of him completely gutted with heartache.

Little did he know that the human lover he had left behind was feeling the exact same way. All the love in the world for the monster he had shown himself to be.

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