Emily's Corner

Batman: the court of owls.

Hal frowns and says he meant like... serious kissing. Bruce suddenly turns pink, nods slowly, and presents his forehead while closing his eyes tight.

Dick's fondest memories of childhood is the hot chocolate he used to drink every winter. He thought Alfred had always made it for him, because Alfred had always been the one to give him a mug of it, but the year after Alfred dies Bruce hands him a mug and Dick bursts into tears right then and there. "You know his recipe?" he sputters, through snot and a lump in his throat. Bruce pauses, considers briefly and dismisses the thought of telling him the truth. "Of course, chum." He lies, because Alfred wouldn't have known where to start in making hot chocolate, that sort of drink was beneath him. "I'll teach it to you."

Jason's favorite feeling in the world is slipping on a freshly ironed shirt. It's fucking fantastic. The greatest thing ever. He loves it so much. He used to watch Alfred do the laundry because he knew ironing was a part of it. Alfred never ironed a thing in his life. Bruce did all the ironing in the house. It soothed his mind to do it, to watch the wrinkles smooth out, to see the mistakes go away with just a little bit of water, heat and pressure. Jason comes to the Manor after a rough patrol and snaps 'where's Bruce?' and Tim points wordlessly to the laundry room. 'doing laundry? yeah right." Jason scoffs, and slams the door open only to find Bruce actually ironing. His shirt. "What are you doing?" He barks, and Bruce looks up, surprised. Like... genuinely surprised that someone is questioning the fact that he's ironing. "I'm... ironing?" He questions, and Jason snorts, snag his shirt and tosses it over his shouldr. "Yeah right. You lose a bet or something, old man?" Bruce debates for a moment, dismisses, and smiles at his son. "It can wait to be fulfilled. Hungry?"

Tim loathes cucumber sandwiches with his whole heart, but his parents staff used to do this thing where they'd put zuccini in the sandwiches in the center just for him. He told the story once to Bruce, and Alfred was in the room with them, and the next time he reached for a cucumber sandwich on the table, it was zuccini. He was elated. Alfred never bought zuccini. Never cooked it. He listed it amongst the top five worst gourds to exist. He never knew there were zuccinis hiding amongst his cucumbers

Steph had this one specific spoon that she loved eating with whenever she was at the Manor, and it was always polished to perfection everytime she needed it. She'd seen Alfred polishing and had been forced to polish utensils as a punishment enough times to assume that he'd just been doing it. When Bruce finally passed, he left the rag he would polish her spoon with and the spoon to her in his will. "I'm sorry I can't do it for you, anymore, but at least I taught you how to do it yourself."

Damian walks into his room to find Bruce bent over his shelf with a feather duster, meticulously cleaning his room for him. "What are you doing?" He barks, sharp and harsh. Bruce straightens, turns to him in surprise. "Damian! You weren't supposed to be home for another few hours!" "Only Pennyworth is allowed in here to clean." Damian says stifly, crossing his arms. Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I thought you said we're only allowed in to clean, unless you give permission otherwise. It's your room, Damian. I will respect your privacy." "Yes but-" Damian begins, and then stops. He'd said they could only go into his room to clean because thats what had happened in the League. Unimportant people, the servants, had cleaned his stuff. It didnt matter to him if they saw it because... they didnt matter. He'd thought... he'd assumed Pennyworth would- not... Bruce smiles.

beak boy beak boy

Jason's finger hovers over the mouse.

On the screen, the cursor hovers over Bruce's medical file. It would be so easy...

"You could've just said you didn't like it if it was that bad," Jason said afterwards. Afterwards, because he wasn't actually that much of an arse, and when he came across the man worshipping the porcelain throne his first instinct wasn't to make it about himself, and he instead kneeled next to him, rubbing his back, flushing the toilet when he slumped aside and wiping off his face like they'd suddenly swapped roles and Jason was the caretaker. It was weird. He doesn't like seeing Bruce so weak.

"Not that," Bruce had gasped, a hand curled into claws over his stomach as he slumped against the wall. "Was nice flavour. You're a good baker."

"That's why you're throwing up?"

Bruce grimaces. "Just something...don't worry about it, Jay."

So Jason had nodded, and pretended to agree, and after Bruce had clapped him on the shoulder and hobbled away, he followed the instinct tugging at his gut and followed it down to the Cave.

It would be so easy to find out why Bruce was throwing up.

So easy....

He clicks the file open.

But Leslie and Alfred were wrong. They are so easy to love, he would die for them. He did.

The problem it's that it's not easy to love him ( and that it seems no matter what, his love is never enough. )

He's the Greatest Green Lantern to Ever Live for a reason, after all. The man had mentored the greatest lanterns that will follow him as well. He founded the Justice League and served as its model for galactic liasons. He's led missions with impossible odds and delivered incredible results.

Hal is brash, but he's competent.

Bruce simply hadn't accounted for what a turn on that is.

Bruce didn't also account for how this mission competence translated to... domestic affairs.

This is a stupid thing to be in love over. This is Bruce at his lowest. Gods, he swears he's better than this. But he mustn't be blamed for what the image of Hal Jordan at his sternest and most proficient.

Bruce is only human. He has weaknesses, such as:

Hal opening doors for him and kissing him as he walked pass

Hal carrying all his things for him, and glaring at him for even picking up a paper handbag

Hal calling him "baby doll" or each of the words alone

Hal taking charge over the kids whenever Bruce is particularly overstimulated, asserting himself with a pointed glare, no use of curse words at all

Hal fixing anything, actually. The man's been a bachelor for a majority of his life; oh, he knows how to get things done in the most creative, efficient ways

Hal taking care of Bruce - dressing him down, bathing him, tucking him in like an actual pampered pet

Bruce will admit to absolutely no one that he enjoys having Hal tease him into allowing this surrender of control. Not even to Hal. He's got a feeling he already knows though, smart man that he is.

But then again, the line of people who actually want to commit to the person and not the status or legend attached to it is decidedly long, and Hal was determined to be the last person to ever date Bruce Wayne for the rest of their lives, thank you very much.

Still, Hal wished he had a forewarning. Maybe an instruction manual or an introductory pamphlet or sorts.

Because he wasn't prepared for this, okay!

When Hal committed to being in a relationship with Bruce Batman Wayne, he was prepared to have an emotionally conflicted partner who had the clingy body of a brick oven. Hal was prepared to get into stupid fights more often. Hal was prepared to be iffy about the money and intrigue surrounding their entanglement.

What he didn't anticipate was Bruce being CUTE.

This lack of preparation could kill a man.

Maybe Hal WAS dead and he was in heaven.

The version of "heaven" for him, apparently, involved living in a world where Bruce, stoic man that he is, pampers him and calls him sweet names.

A "Good morning, lovely" as Hal is woken up by peppered kisses and a warm body pressing him into the covers

Then a "Let me get that for you, darling" as Bruce opens doors for him

With a dash of "Do you like it, dearest?" as Bruce models a nice coat on, shyly smiling at him for his attention

And a side of "May I, love?" as Bruce leans in for a kiss, blushing like crazy even after weeks to months of dating

"i used you?! I gave you everything I had, everything I was! I gave myself over to you, and you still think I was using you??"

"I am not so foolish as to think you would sincerely end the Wayne lineage to become one of mine."

Bruce almost stumbles back in disbelief at the words. "That- that was all I wanted. Did I not prove my loyalty to you, time and time again? Ra's," Bruce shakes his head in distraught confusion. "I let you do anything to me. I let you carve open my body and hold my heart in your palms while I lay awake. I let you rewire my veins, break and reset my bones, flay me open and mold me to your tastes. I gave you everything! My body is more yours than mine! All I wanted was one change from you, one thing to prove your loyalty to me!"

"That 'one thing' was the fundamental mechanism of change, Bruce. I know you have your childish ideals, and I indulged them myself for some time, but what was I supposed to do when you refused to grow up and see the world as it is?"

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP ME!" Bruce can't keep the anger and hurt out of his voice as he shouts. "I remade myself for you and you still threw me aside! All I ever wanted was a family, and I am so damn grateful to be a father, but I wanted one too. Is that so awful? I just wanted to be a son before a father, and I thought you..." Bruce doesn't finish the sentence, instead staring off to the floor on Ras's left.

Gently, Ra's speaks. "In another life, another time, another place, it might have been us," Ra's says. "But in this one, you have your faithful butler watching you, protecting you."

Bruce smiles wryly. "My butler? He's tried leaving me every time I get difficult. Should've seen him when I was addicted to venom. You could always withstand me, but he wanted to leave. If I hadn't adopted Dick when I did...."

A pained look crosses Ra's face as he steps forward. "My boy, I-"

"No," Bruce says, "we can't fix it now. You- I could forgive you hurting just me. I already have, but you laid hands on my kids. I can't be part of your family anymore, not without abandoning my own. And I don't have to tell you that I won't ever do that." Bruce steps back towards his actual family. He watches, distantly, as Ras's hand drops from where it had reached up to touch Bruce. He turns, showing his full, unguarded back to Ra's as he takes his family back home.

When Bruce was a kid and Alfred was looking after him after his parents died when he was in trouble Alfred would lock him in the wine cellar underneath the manor. It’s quiet and huge and pratically sound proof. Sometimes he’d be down there for hours upon hours.

When he’s older, and he blames himself over an argument or his kids getting injured, he locks himself down there. He’ll curl into a ball and hide. Sometimes he cries. It’s a punishment to himself, he’s a monster who deserves to be locked away he thinks.

When it gets really bad he’ll be down there for days.

But it all comes crashing down when Damian finds him down there.

(Thank you for reading my request I am so glad you are back lovely your writing fills me with sadness and joy)

This is like that recent chapter of A Hundred Days Curse...

"Ace?" Damian whistles sharply, but the dog does not respond to his recall, pawing at the door. "Ace!"

The dog barks at him, then slams his shoulder against the door. Damian hurries across the cellar, and shoves a leg between Ace and the door when he goes to do it again.

"Ace," he coos. "What's wrong?"

Father's dog whines desperately, looking at the door with wide eyes. Damian bites his lip, and reaches for the lock.

It can't hurt to check it out, can it?

The door opens and Ace tears past him, sprinting into the darkness.

Damian turns on the lights, cursing the dog internally. He's never disregarded his training like this before, what could possibly be the cause?

Even after sweeping the wine cellar in its entirety, Damian still can't be sure.

But when he looks at the open window near the ceiling, and Ace barking, leaping at the wall like he stands a chance of reaching it, Damian thinks he might have an idea.