Pewpew

Grace sends this off as a "fuck you" to Stratt and unintentionally eases 40+ years of horrific guilt.

(40+ factoring in the Hail Mary mission, then the time it would take to get back to Erid and the time it would take for the message to get to Earth. Probably closer to 50+ actually).

Grace sends this off as a "fuck you" to Stratt and unintentionally eases 40+ years of horrific guilt.

(40+ factoring in the Hail Mary mission, then the time it would take to get back to Erid and the time it would take for the message to get to Earth. Probably closer to 50+ actually).

Adrian: Dear, wanting to fuck an alien is not that strange.

Rocky: Yeah but wanting to break into his ribcage while he's awake is. With lots of painkillers so it doesn't hurt.

Adrian: ...That's a very specific fantasy.

Rocky: Grace asked me if I would do it when he was delirious from the trip to Erid. I can't stop thinking about it.

Adrian: Ah, so it's his idea?

Rocky: He's so creative when he's on the brink of death, my song.

There’s so many of you!

she heard ilya mention shane while kissing her goodbye, but she didn't understand it when ilya pointed to these two strangers, who were smiling warmly, and said the words grandma and grandpa.

but then she got all the treats she deserved, even more walks than her dad would take her on, and so many snuggles and kisses.

a few days later, when ilya came to pick her up, she saw, sitting by his ankles under the dinner table, that yuna and david had made ilya a large meal, and that he was grinning happily. then she understood that yuna and david must love ilya, like they loved her.

(Idk how many parts I'll be making or if everything after this will be just a bunch of headcanons)

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Part 1 / ???

Damian knew there was someone else in the manor. Some hidden presence that nobody else seemed to notice. Just like a new toy that he one day found Titus playing with. Or a small batch of cold pastries and sweets that was left in the dining room each time he returned from the patrol. It wasn't Pennyworth. Whatever he presented them with was always warm and fresh. And there was a clear difference in quality too.

He confronted his siblings and even father about it just to be dismissed as he was just "not used to the new home". It must have been his paranoia playing tricks since he wasn't used to feeling so safe (at least the manor was supposed to be that).But when he talked to the butler about it, he finally got an answer. A name said so casually while the man was doing his chores kept ringing in his ears.

"Who is that?"

"Your half sister, master Damian."

The boy's brain short-circuited in that moment. For several seconds he just stood there, staring at the water running as Alfred was washing the dishes.

Half sister. Half sister...

Half?

Sister?

As in, a blood child of his father?

Damian opened his mouth to say something several times, but words died in his throat with each attempt. Really, what could he even say? What should he ask? His whole life he thought he was the only heir of renowned Bruce Wayne. And now they just drop it on him that there's another one? And a butler of all people is the one to tell him?

Finally, words manage to leave his mouth.

"Why was I not notified of this?"

"That is an excellent question."

That's it. That's the only answer he gets. Because, perhaps, Pennyworth didn't know himself. In a house such as this, where every child is treasured regardless of their background and what they went through, why would one be just... what even was it? Forgotten? Ignored? For God's sake, she literally lived in the same building, why did everyone act like she didn't exist?

Damian especially, as an heir, had every right to know if there were any other rivals for his status, and everyone here seemed to completely disregard that. He'd be certain to confront father about it as soon as he sees him. The man is lucky he is out of the manor for now, otherwise he would have suffered his unadulterated wrath right then and there.

_________________________

Before he knew it, Damian was standing in front of a door. The hallway was quiet and the room seemed to be located further away from all others, in a wing he rarely visited, if ever. And as far as he knew, the rest of the family did too. It was Alfred that directed him towards the elusive sister's room.

The boy clenched his teeth as he brought his hand up to knock. It was just then that he noticed that his heart was beating faster than normal. He was about to meet his rival after all. Yes, that must be it. A measured knock disrupted the silence.

He waited.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

Not even a sound.

Strange. It was as if nobody was on the other side at all. It was too early to sleep, so it couldn't be that.

He swallowed hard, took a deep breath and turned the handle... unlocked...

The door opened just a crack and he peeked in. As expected, the bed was empty. He peeked over the door to see the rest of the room to, again, see no one. Furrowing his brows he walked in.

Damian looked around the space. It was clean, the bed was made, windows closed. Some books were placed neatly on the shelves, some were textbooks, others seemed like classic novels of some kind but despite no dust covering them it didn't seem like anyone touched them in a while. The desk didn't hold any trinkets like Steph's, no notebooks, or toys, or anything of the sort. The room looked occupied, but not lived in. Not a single personal belonging seemed to be placed in the open. Nothing to give him even a hint of what kind of person the occupant was. Was that on purpose? A way to conceal their identity just like they concealed their presence in the manor? It was more frustrating than Damian would like to admit.

Just like the fact that he STILL didn't get to meet them. Pennyworth said his sister was currently in the manor, so where the hell was she?

He thought about looking through more rooms or inquiring the butler about her whereabouts again, but then he noticed the clock on the wall, reminding him that it would be soon time for his patrol.

___________

It was infuriating. Not just the presence of a potential rival for his status as an heir. Not even the fact that he failed to corner them or even get a glimpse of them in almost a week. But most of all, it was the way others behaved.

The second Damian saw Bruce on patrol he immediately demanded answers. The man tried to brush it off but to no avail, the boy was relentless. Still, the answer was less than satisfactory. Simple "yes, you have a sister" and as for the reason why nobody told him "it slipped my mind".

Slipped his mind.

The same man that upon arrival introduced him to every single one of the siblings present in the house. Notified him of each one that was absent. And later specifically made time to introduce each one of those as soon as they stepped foot in the manor. That same man claimed that his own blood child just "slipped his mind".

In later days he tried to ask his siblings about it. Tim, naturally, didn't provide any useful information, so he went for Stephanie, as she was the most loud and talkative of the bunch. Her nonchalant reply practically knocked the air out of his lungs.

"Oh, right, I haven't seen her in a while." the blonde said sipping her coffee.

"What the hell do you mean "haven't seen her in a while"?! You live in the same house!"

How this family didn't implode on itself was actually beyond him. For all he knew, she could be a spy gathering information on him and feeding it to whatever of this city's maniacs paid more, and they just had no idea where she was or what she was doing and acted so casual about it too. And when he shared a piece of his mind with them, they also brushed it off as her being just a normal quiet teen.

Damian cussed under his breath as he stepped out of the elevator. He had to end the patrol early tonight. Too early, in his opinion, but father wouldn't allow any argument on that. According to him, Damian was too emotional lately (how could he not be, with everything going on?) , not focused enough during a mission. And most importantly, he had a test tomorrow and needed time to prepare (not really, he was certain he could ace it with eyes closed). So, here he was, fresh out of his costume, walking through the hall towards the dining room to get himself some sort of snack for the night.

A dim light caught his attention. It was rather strange for Pennyworth to be setting anything up this late. Could it be one of his siblings?

Turning the corner he froze. The girl standing at the counter was unfamiliar. She was pulling cheap looking pastries out of a paper bag. Her posture was stiff, as if she knew someone was in the room with her. Before she could turn around to face him the boy moved and katana was already pointing at her throat.

The girl held out her hands in surrender and smiled awkwardly.

So he works to get the pronunciation down, and finally springs it on him one day when Ilya’s just come in from the lake, hair air dried and floofy and he’s all open limbs and soft edges.

The moment the words fill the space, Ilya goes silent, and tears start to fall. Shane panics, and closes the gap between them to hold his husband close with a crushing grip.

‘What’s wrong? Did I not do it right? Did I say something bad?’

Ilya stays quiet for a moment, trying to control the inevitable break in his voice when he speaks. When it comes out, it’s wet, and wounded, like blood seeping out the mouth of an injured animal.

‘No, no. It’s ok- my mama, she-’ another small sob. ‘She used to call me that. I have not heard it in a very long time.’

Shane knows he doesn’t need to reply, or to fill the following lull.

He just needs to stand there. Solid and unyielding.

And it's often enough that Shane falls asleep with his head on Ilya's shoulder or lap, because Shane conks out on most forms of transportation. They've all been on a bus or plane or even in a car with Hollzy while he was snoozing by now. Ilya teases him about it constantly, something about a Pavlovian reaction, something about Shane being a colicky baby, and the Cens don't really ask because it seems like married people business.

It's also married people business that sometimes Hollander lays there in his usual slump in Ilya's lap with the addition of a blanket pulled up over his head. The assumption is that he's having a migraine or some sensory issue. And that's generally the case. If someone ventures back there and notices that Shane's under the blanket, Ilya rarely acknowledges whoever's wandered to the back of the bus, but he's usually sitting there on his phone or sometimes even staring out the window with his hand on the mound of Shane's head, and it's kind of cute, actually, the way he accommodates for his husband.

And nobody ever realizes that Shane is laying there with Ilya's cock in his mouth, letting the world narrow down to the weight of his husband on his tongue and the sensation of Ilya's fingers curling along the curve of his ear from overtop the blanket, the occasional twitches of Ilya's mostly soft cock against the roof of his mouth, the comfort of Ilya's breath sounds. The sweet surprise when Ilya, occasionally, when he's not too tired and his medication is cooperating, does get hard--and then the floaty, happy satisfaction when Ilya comes gently and softens again, nobody any the wiser, and Shane's stomach warm.