#batfam reader insert

The family had gathered in the living room. Alfred had made cookies and hot apple cider in pumpkin shaped mugs, Bruce kindly volunteered to pass it around so Alfred could relax with everyone else. Dick and Damian were dressing a very grumpy Alfred the Cat in a dragon costume. Steph was nose deep in a book, occasionally bursting in a fit of giggles at the words on the pages. Duke and Jason were locked in a tense game of Jenga. Tim was on his laptop, already thoroughly planning on the next years Halloween décor.

You and Cass were roasting marshmallows over the fireplace, when you said it.

“I was thinking of dressing up as Robin this year.”

The room went silent — even Alfred the Cat froze mid-tail flick. Then, like a switch had flipped, chaos erupted.

Dick looked up from his spot on the rug, grinning instantly. “Oh, that’s adorable! You’d make the perfect original Robin — bright colors, circus charm, the whole deal. I still have my old cape!”

Jason scoffed. “No offense, but no one in their right mind would wear bright green undies. If she’s going as Robin, she should be my kind — tougher, cooler, you know.”

Tim didn’t look up from his laptop. “Technically, my suit was the most optimized. It offered the highest balance of flexibility and armor density. If you want accuracy, she should use my version.”

Damian’s head snapped up. “Tt. Incorrect. She would clearly model after me. I am the superior Robin — a jack-of-all trades.”

That earned him a flick of Jason’s Jenga piece. “Your ego is already huge Demon Spawn. You don't need to further inflate it.”

Steph lowered her book, smirking. “Oh this is gonna be good.”

Cass blew the fire off of her marshmallow, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “So,” she said, “if she were going as Robin, which era would be the best version?”

It was all the invitation they needed.

“Uh, mine! Obviously,” Dick said immediately. “No question. I was the first. The blueprint. Right Bruce?”

"This is good hot cider," Bruce mumbled before taking a long sip from his mug. Obviously trying to not get involved.

Jason let out a low laugh. “Yeah, a blueprint for target practice. Sorry, but the only Robin who made Gotham scared was me.”

Tim rolled his eyes, typing something rapid-fire on his laptop. “You mean the only Robin who made Batman lose sleep. Statistically speaking, my version had the highest mission success rate. Right Alfred?”

Alfred was chewing a cookie while checking the weather on his phone. Clearly uninterested in the argument.

Damian’s scoff practically echoed. “Numbers mean nothing without legacy. I restored the mantle’s honor after you all failed it.”

That did it.

Jason stood, knocking over the Jenga tower. “You wanna repeat that, gremlin?”

“I do not repeat myself for those with poor hearing,” Damian said coolly, arms crossed.

Cass bit into her marshmallow, eyes sparkling. Steph slid off her chair and whispered to Duke, “I give it three minutes before someone threatens murder.”

Duke smirked. “Two. Jason’s eye is already twitching.”

The argument started small and childish. But after one too many insults and finger pointing, the living room devolved into full-on Robin chaos.

Dick was passionately explaining the “symbolism of the bright colors” while trying to demonstrate a triple somersault in limited space. Jason was countering by demonstrating his best question mark kick. Tim had brought up charts surrounding the  ‘Robin: A Data-Driven Legacy’. Damian, in a move of pure pettiness, had begun correcting their arguments on a whiteboard he’d stolen from the kitchen.

You and Cass watched from the couch, skewers still in hand.

“This feels illegal to interrupt,” you whispered.

Duke grinned. “Then don't. I surely won't.”

Steph, however, was on a mission. “Hey, [Name]!” she called. “If you had to pick a Robin, who would you be?”

Every head turned toward you at once. Four pairs of eyes, four different versions of pride waiting for validation.

You froze. "Um… I don't know. They're all great in their own ways, it's so hard to pick."

Damian sat next to you and hugged your arm, making a big show of nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "You don't have to say it. We all know you love my uniform the most."

Tim glared at the display. "Hey hey hey! No cute little brother act outta you!"

Dick stood up, allowing Alfred the Cat to retreat from the situation. "Yeah! You can't cuddle and puppy-dog-eye your way into victory. We all know she thinks mine is the best."

Jason chucked a Jenga piece at Damian's forehead, but the boy easily deflect it with this hand. "All of you are delusional. But don't worry, you'll see soon enough. I'm a patient man."

You expected the argument to be forgotten by tomorrow. But unfortunately by the next afternoon, the “Robin situation” had only gotten worse.

What started as an innocent remark, sparked a debate, and it had evolved into a full-blown campaign.

Dick had printed out sketches of his old uniform and strategically left them throughout the house. Tim had sent you a list of materials and seamstress contacts, and even sent you times to reserve a private fitting. Jason personally took your measurements while you were trying to eat your lunch. And Damian had taken it upon himself to invite you to his morning sparring session, going into extensive detail on how the fabric of the suit would blah blah blah blah blah…

You wanted to end this whole thing once and for all. Silencing your phone did nothing but invite your brothers to find you personally, except for Damian, he had Titus sniff you out and bring you notes. So you resorted to hiding in your room. But you soon had papers sliding under your bedroom door and accumulate in a messy pile in front of it. It was only a matter of time before they sent messenger pigeons to your window, you were sure of it,

Steph, Cass, and Duke, of course, had decided to help…themselves. All sense of peace and maturity had been abandoned long ago. Each attempt and escalation was side-gripping and tear-jerkingly funny to them. Enjoying your brothers shenanigans and your throbbing headache and irritation. True sibling behavior.

“Okay,” Duke said, sprawled across the couch as you sat cross-legged on the rug, surrounded by a haul of seasonal treats. “Here’s the deal. You tell each of them they’re winning. Keeps the peace.”

“That’s—” you started.

“Deceptive, brilliant, and morally flexible,” Steph finished, grinning. “I support it.”

Cass nodded "Tell Tim you like his cape, he might stop hovering."

You groaned. “And the others?”

Steph grinned. “Tell Damian his version has the best boots. He’ll talk about himself for twenty minutes, easy. It'll give you time to escape while he's monologuing.”

Duke bounced in his seat. "Oh! Tell Jason you liked that his version had pants. Bonus points if Dick is in the room."

Cass burst out laughing. "That'll have those two will arguing for hours!"

You foolishly took their "advice". It all worked too well.

By evening, the Manor had turned into a costume war zone.

Dick dragged you to the home the gym to demonstrate the “classic Robin agility,” flipping over mats with theatrical precision. "My suit allowed me to move around the best! When you can do a Produnova vault do you really need to listen to anyone else?"

Jason was spray-painting gloves on the back  patio. “You want the matte finish, trust me."

Tim had somehow convinced Lucius Fox to weigh in on his design’s structural integrity, but Damian kept showing up behind him with unsolicited tailoring advice. “Your stitching alignment is off by three millimeters,” he said, arms folded, examining a perfectly folded green cloth.

This continued on for another week. The "Agents of Chaos" further instigating things even when you weren't around. Bruce and Alfred being silent spectators the best they could. Knowing that anything they said would further the chaos. But after a while they just stopped caring. And right now was no different…

“Alright, folks,” Duke said, climbing onto the arm of the couch. He held one of the prop microphones from the decorations box — a plastic one that still had a tag reading ‘Karaoke Queen’ — and held it like he was covering a championship game.

“Welcome to the first annual Battle of the Robins!” he announced, his voice booming over the chatter. “I’m your host, Duke Thomas, joined by our field correspondents Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown. Tonight, tensions are high, stakes are nonexistent, and egos are absolutely out of control.”

Steph cupped her hands around her mouth and cheered, “Let’s get ready to fumble!”

Cass stood beside her, mock-serious, holding up her phone like a camera. “We’re live.”

Duke held up his microphone. “On the ceiling, we have Dick Grayson — acrobat, optimist, and self-proclaimed legacy!”

Dick saluted from the chandelier.

“In the right corner, Jason Todd — rebel, gunslinger, and man who somehow thinks candy corn is an acceptable breakfast!”

Jason pointed at Duke with mock offense. “It’s a seasonal breakfast.”

“In the right corner— Tim Drake, who just installed a spreadsheet to track how often she compliments each of them.”

Steph almost fell over laughing. “Oh my god, you’re measuring it?!”

“Science demands consistency,” Tim stated proudly.

Damian appeared out of nowhere. “And what about me?”

Duke smirked. “Wildcard. Could bite someone. Probably wins.”

He blinked. “…Acceptable.”

Duke nodded. “With all four Robins having entered the ring, and not a single one has shut up since. Let’s check in with the experts.”

Steph cleared her throat dramatically as Cass turned her camera her direction. “Good evening. This is Stephanie Brown, reporting live from Wayne Manor, where chaos has broken out between the four Robins over who has the superior costume. Joining us tonight are two Gotham legends — Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth.”

Steph turned first to Alfred, who was calmly stirring a cup of tea on the sofa. “Mr. Pennyworth, you’ve seen every Robin come and go. Tell us — who’s the frontrunner?”

Alfred didn’t miss a beat. “Miss Brown, while each young master brings… unique qualities to the mantle, I must admit I’ve always been partial to the one who didn’t attempt to sew explosives into their boots.”

Tim shouted from across the room, “Hey, that was experimental!”

“Indeed,” Alfred replied dryly. “As was the subsequent trip to the emergency room.”

“Very interesting Mr. Pennyworth,” Steph said, in her low reporter voice, “Now, who's suit has been a personal favorite?”

Alfred looked over his teacup without a hint of hesitation. “If we’re speaking on style, the original suit was timeless. The short pants, perhaps less so.”

Dick gasped in mock offense. “You said they were iconic!”

“They were,” Alfred said politely. “In the same way that bell-bottoms were.”

Cass snorted hard behind her camera.

Steph nodded solemnly. “So your vote…?”

Alfred took a sip of tea. “Whichever one doesn’t burn down the kitchen tonight.”

"Thank you so much Mr. Pennyworth." Steph turned to Bruce. “Now Mr. Wayne?”

Every head turned. Bruce looked up from his seat in the corner, where he’d been reading over WE spreadsheets on a tablet with his usual “I’m pretending this is normal” expression.

Cass held the mic toward him. “As the man behind the cowl, The Batman, who is your favorite Robin?”

Bruce blinked, deadpan. “That’s classified.”

Duke booed. “C’mon, you know you have one!”

Bruce sighed, a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth giving him away. “They’re all good.”

Tim pointed at him. “That’s such a Dad answer!”

Steph pressed again, straight-faced. “If forced to choose, who would it be? The people have a right to know!”

Bruce put his tablet in sleep mode and set it face down on his lap. "[Name]."

Dick threw his hands up. "What!? She's not a Robin!"

Bruce closed his eyes, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "In another universe she is. And just knowing that is good enough for me."

Duke leaned in. “Come on, you gotta give us something. You designed each Robin costume. So I know you have firm opinions on the matter. If Gotham’s fate depended on one Robin handing out Halloween candy without scaring the children — who are you picking?”

Bruce paused, deadpan. “Not Jason.”

“Wow,” Jason said flatly. “No hesitation?”

Bruce shrugged. “You tried to trade Reese’s for police intel last year.”

“Alfred said the officer liked peanut butter!”

“He was allergic,” Alfred said without missing a beat.

Cass panned her “camera” to Alfred and whispered to Steph, “Breaking news: local butler exposes criminal candy operation.”

Steph whispered back, “Sources confirm Jason’s been banned from trick-or-treat diplomacy.”

Duke nodded gravely. “Powerful words. Now, Mr. Pennyworth, as the cornerstone of the household, how does it feel watching your children argue over fictional titles of supremacy?”

Alfred’s lips twitched. “It feels remarkably similar to a normal Tuesday.”

That sent everyone into another round of laughter.

Duke spun toward the “camera. “You heard it here first, folks! The butler has spoken, the father has abstained, and the Robins are still in denial.”

Cass panned her pretend camera dramatically toward the couch where you’d been sitting. “Now,” Duke continued, lowering his voice into his best reporter tone, “let’s hear from the woman at the center of it all — the mystery of the hour — the alleged Robin herself!”

He turned to where you’d been sitting, but the spot was empty.

Your mug of hot chocolate sat abandoned on the table, steam curling up in the faint glow of the fireplace. The blanket you’d had draped over your lap was folded neatly on the cushion.

Steph gasped. “Wait—where’d she go?”

Tim raised a brow. “She was literally here thirty seconds ago.”

Jason stood, scanning the room like he was on a mission. “Don’t tell me she Batman’d us.”

Dick looked toward the hallway, half amused, half worried. “She did just vanish mid-argument.”

Damian frowned, crossing his arms. “She couldn’t choose between us, so she ran away.”

Steph grabbed the mic from Duke. “We’re live outside Wayne Manors' living room where tragedy has struck! The elusive [Name] has disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a warm cup of hot chocolate and shattered dreams and egos.”

Cass leaned into the mic. “Tragic.”

Steph added, “Historic.”

Duke grinned. “Hilarious.”

Duke grabbed the mic once more and ended the “broadcast” with a flourish. “Stay tuned for the grand finale, when we find out if [Name] actually chooses a side… or if this all ends in emotional devastation and decorative property damage.”

“Property damage is likely,” Alfred muttered.

Jason raised his mug. “That’s the spirit, Alfie.”

Damian groaned. “You two are loving this way too much.”

“Journalistic integrity,” Duke said solemnly. “We report the chaos, not cause it.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

“…Okay, maybe we cause a little of it,” Duke admitted.

Tim pulled out his phone. “If she’s in the manor, I can track her movement on the security feed.”

Dick held out a hand. “No. Let her have her moment. Maybe she’s setting up her costume. Halloween is tomorrow.”

Jason smirked. “Or she’s hiding from you because she realized she doesn’t want to be associated with that outfit.”

“Tt.” Damian glared. “Jealousy is unbecoming.”

And somewhere upstairs, as laughter and mock arguments filled the Manor again, you hid a grin while putting the finishing touches on your costume.

When the sun began to set on Halloween night, trick-or-treaters were already gathering along the gates of Wayne Manor, their costumes glowing in the soft orange light that spilled across the lawn. Alfred had outdone himself — again. The entire walkway was lined with pumpkin lanterns carved into perfect bats, the air rich with cinnamon, sugar, and the faintest trace of fog from hidden machines.

You waited at the top of the grand staircase, straightening your top one last time. Cass gave you a thumbs-up from the foyer. Duke wiped a speck of dirt from his shoes. Steph was barely holding back laughter. Bruce stood beside you, adjusting his own matching costume with a grim expression that somehow made the whole thing funnier.

“Ready?” he asked.

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

The entrance echoed from yet another argument you entered the room. Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian all looked up. Their eyes widened and jaws dropped at the scene.

There stood six Alfreds — identical suits, polished shoes, crisp vests, white gloves, shiny bald caps with horseshoe haircuts, press on mustaches, each holding a silver tray of full sized candy.

You. Bruce. Steph. Cass. Duke. And, of course, the real Alfred.

Then Jason broke first. “Oh. My. God.”

Dick clutched his stomach, laughing. “You didn’t— you actually went as Alfred?!”

Tim’s eyes darted between all of you like his brain was buffering. “I didn’t see this coming.”

Damian blinked, utterly betrayed. “You lied to me!”

You straightened your posture and stood with perfect poise. “We prefer the term, well-orchestrated misdirection.”

Duke, now fully in character, cleared his throat and announced in his best Alfred impression, “Might I offer you some candy, Masters Grayson, Todd, Drake, and Wayne?”

Steph couldn't get into character. “That was so good! We really fooled you guys!"

Cass smiled, which caused her mustache to move slightly out of place. "It seems you boys have forgotten, that Halloween is also about mischief and trickery."

And just like that, the realization hit all four of them at once.

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me—this was a setup!?”

You grinned behind your crooked mustache. “A very successful one.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “You coordinated with three people, a strict butler, and an actual billionaire to prank us.”

You shrugged, straightening your vest. “It's called strategic collaboration Timothy.”

Damian glared between all of you. “I should have suspected this was a trick from the start. But I could never have predicted that you would be in on this juvenile stunt Father.”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, completely unbothered. “[Name] said that this would count as making up for all of the quality father-daughter time I've missed.”

Dick shouted "That is complete horse shit! You spoil the hell out of her. You've rescheduled meetings just because she asked you to."

"The meetings were held another day so it was fine."

You gasped in mock offense. "You're just jealous Bruce never did a fun matching costume with you for Halloween.” you fired back. “You’re mad that your days as the first-born golden boy are over and people like to spoil me more!”

Tim nearly fell over laughing. “She’s not wrong!”

Jason wheezed. “The golden boy dethroned by the golden girl!”

Bruce just sighed, though you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth “Let's start passing out the candy before it gets too late.”

As the grand front doors opened, and the Alfred look-alikes walked out with treats on their trays, the real Alfred surveyed the scene, utterly composed except for the faint sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “Well,” he said finally, “I must say I’ve never seen a finer ensemble of myself.”

Jason was crying from laughter. “Please tell me you have a team name!”

You nodded proudly, opening the front door to greet the line of trick-or-treaters. “The Alfred Alliance. Trademark pending.”

Cass added softly, “We hand out candy with grace and judgment.”

“Indeed,” Duke said, slipping a chocolate bar into a kid at the door. “This tray has standards.”

Even Bruce cracked a small smile as he dropped candy bars into waiting buckets with terrifying seriousness. “We represent excellence.”

The rest of the night played out like the most absurd dream imaginable.

Kids arrived in waves, shouting “Trick or treat!” as the six Alfreds handed out candy in perfect synchronization. Steph offered compliments in her best posh accent. Cass bowed solemnly to every princess and pirate. Duke narrated the candy exchange like a documentary. Bruce distributed treats with military precision, and you kept the trays stocked, every motion measured and dignified.

From the yard, the four Robins watched in resigned disbelief.

Jason shook his head. “This is art.”

Tim groaned. “This is psychological warfare.”

Dick leaned back, smiling. “This is family.”

Damian muttered, “This is absurd.”

Steph turned, holding out a tray of candy with a smirk. “Candy, Master Damian?”

He glared, but took two.

Later, when the porch lights dimmed and the last of the kids had gone home, Alfred collected the trays with his usual grace. He looked at each of you in turn — his little army of imitators — and gave a single approving nod.

“Well done, all of you,” he said softly. “A truly distinguished performance.”

Bruce adjusted his crooked mustache and sighed. “I’m never living this down.”

You stood on your toes and gave your Bruce a peck on his cheek. “Nope. But at least we finally have a cute father-daughter matching costume you've always wanted.”

Bruce gave you a warm smile. "This isn't what I had in mind. But I'm happy that you're happy."

You felt a wave of exhaustion and warmth settling in your chest as you caught Alfred’s eye. “Told you we could pull it off.”

He gave that small, knowing smile. “Indeed, Miss. Though I must admit, seeing five versions of myself handing out candy was not on my list of holiday expectations.”

Duke leaned in, grinning. “Next year, lets add matching aprons.”

Alfred paused. “Let’s not be too ambitious, Master Thomas.”

Jason unwrapped a candy bar he swiped earlier. “I don’t know. I think the Alfred Alliance was a masterpiece. We’ve peaked.”

Steph tugged off her mustache, grinning. “Speak for yourself — I’m already planning next year.”

Cass removed her bald cap. “Let's pick a new target though.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. “Target?”

That’s when you smiled — that slow, dangerous, Gotham-kind-of-smile that every Wayne inherited one way or another.

“I got it,” you said. “Let’s all go as Oliver next year. Just to mess with him.”

Dick choked on his cider. Jason and Tim nearly fell to their knees laughing. There was a slow and devious smile worming its way onto Bruce's face.

“Oh, please,” Tim wheezed. “Can you imagine his face if all of us showed up in green leather, plastic bows, and bad blonde facial hair?”

Damian rubbed is hands together like a super villain. “The wigs alone would destroy him.”

You choked through your laughter. "The mustaches would annihilate him!"

Bruce was frantically typing notes into his phone. “We could call it The Arrow Alliance.”

Cass leaned in to look at Bruce's notes. "Let's show up to a JL meeting! Everyone would love it!"

Damian's grin grew. “Finally, a plan with merit.”

Even Alfred’s composure cracked — just a fraction, just enough for his voice to soften around the edges. “I suppose if we must repeat such madness, Master Queen is as suitable a target as any."

And somewhere across the city, Oliver Queen felt a chill rolling down his spine— sensing something terrible and headed his way.

Following her up the flights of stairs to the sixth floor, he's surprised when she whips out the key from her jacket's pocket like she'd been planning on this. He guesses she had. Still, part of him anticipated the teenager having forgotten the key and having to wind up kicking the door in.

"Just in here," you announce, pushing the key into its keyhole.

Climbing the last few stairs, Jason notices how your body language appears much more relaxed than at the table in the Manor, earlier. It's somewhat hard to ignore the sound of the people fucking you'd passed on the fourth floor, then there's the yelling, the loud televisions, the smell of weed, and the sirens down the street. Yet, you seem entirely unfazed.

He watches as you enter, slipping off your Converse at the door. He follows suit, unlacing his boots and stepping out of them to be respectful. With a swift hand, he closes and locks the door behind the two of you. Backpack tossed onto the couch, he watches as you go over and turn the television off. Why was it even on? Hadn't your mother died? Was someone in here? Were you expecting someone? The casual nature in your behavior is eerie, nonetheless. He traces along the walls of the room, taking in everything.

"It's so people think we're home," you reveal, "the tv. You looked confused." With quick feet, you head down the hallway. It's curious that you come back with a bowl. However, he easily puts two and two together as he spots little fish painted around the circumference of it. You walk into the kitchen, nonchalantly tossing the bowl onto the counter before opening the fridge. The light within illuminates your face and it's only a matter of seconds before you're placing some sort of leftovers from a white styrofoam container into the bowl and heading back down the hallway. When you don't come back, he follows where you'd gone.

"I know that this will be hard, but it's for the best! Plus, I know Mrs. Garcia won't be missing you more than me," you whisper, upper body leaning out the window onto the fire escape's landing. Eyes trailing past you, he finds a fluffy white cat just outside, happily purring and eating whatever it was you'd laid before him. Without turning to look, you speak up, voice no longer holding the soft and sweet sentiment it just held for the animal. "It's our upstairs neighbor's cat. She doesn't really take the best care of him, so I feed him sometimes." With a last sentiment spared toward the feline, you close the window and lock it. Good, hopefully, the others are already locked, he thinks.

"So you can't keep him. That's too bad," Jason remarks, faux sympathy in his voice as he eyes the knick-knacks on your dresser. At least, he assumes, considering the very colorful nature of the room and the stuffed animals on the bed. "Damian is a sucker when it comes to animals. Would've been a good way to bond with him," he teases.

"This is my room. I'll just be a minute! I need to check a few things and… then we can go." You started confident, but he could tell that this was painful for you. The thought of leaving again. Eyes unmoving from his, he watches as you shyly tuck a strand of your bangs behind your ear before he nods and starts to let himself back out into the hall. Hand catching on the door, he holds onto it as he decides to ask, rather than rummage through the entire apartment.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" This time it's you who's surprised as he observes the way you give him a strange look.

"Um… yeah, why, do you need it?" Despite the question, you're already moving toward him, then around and past as you make your way back to the kitchen. Up within a cabinet, Jason watches as you struggle to reach it on your tiptoes. While he's not that close with you and knows some people prefer doing things themself, he doesn't like to watch people struggle. Just as he closes the steps between you to grab it, you let out a proud exclamation and gently cradle it on the descent. "Did you cut yourself or something?"

"Actually no, but I noticed you did. You can't just let it stay like that," he argues. The look on your face sends him racing to beat you to the punch. Before you can protest, he adds, "If anything I'm not letting you leave here without patching that up. I'm not getting more blood and who knows what else on my shirt or jacket." He doesn't miss the glare you shoot him, but he doesn't acknowledge it either.

Sliding the kit out from under your hand on the counter, he opens it to retrieve a bandage and some antibiotic ointment. With a gesture of his head, you turn your palm face up to reveal a few scrapes, some having elicited blood though it all looks dried by now, and a few tiny splinters lodged into the skin. He'd ask you to take them out, but you're already on top of it, preparing your hand as he unscrews the cap on the ointment. Within a minute, you're all patched up, no argument, no complaints; an easy job, really.

"I'll stay in here, I guess. Get your stuff and then we're outta here, alright?" Jason suggests. You seem content enough with this as you nod in his direction before heading back toward your room.

Essentials. Essentials… what even are essentials? Hastily grabbing your bag of hair ties, your hair brush, deodorant, and some of your more important clothing items: bras, panties, and sleeping shirts, you toss them into your bag. With those out of the way, really, what else should you bring? Immediately your eyes are drawn to the shelf of books, movies, and other eclectic items within. Crouching before it, you grab your photo album. You can't forget your favorite bear, the one your aunt had gifted you when you were born. With his head sticking out of the bag as he won't fit any further into it, you decide that apart from one final task, all that's left is the other two rooms: your mother's and the bathroom.

Emptying your piggy bank into your backpack, you pull the door open and head into her room. Luckily, Jason seems occupied snooping through the living room. With an unnecessary urgency, you pull the mattress away from the headboard and round the bed. You crawl up to the pillows, tossing them aside before you lift the corner of the bedsheet. It looks untouched, but that doesn't mean it wasn't. There's a six-inch cut in the mattress; it's easy to miss if you're not looking, but you've known about it since you were eight and caught your mom stashing her last paycheck's worth of money inside. With searching hands you feel around inside. One stack after another is produced from the hiding spot. Altogether, there are stacks of at least, if you had to guess… maybe fifteen, sixteen bundles of hundreds on the bed.

Upon hurriedly transferring the cash from your mother's room into your backpack you'd stupidly left in your room, you're met with Jason's form at the end of the hallway on the last trip. Stacks of hundreds cradled in your arm, your eyes widen. "Where'd you-"

"It's not what it looks like!" You defend. He calls your name in a stern tone, yet you only offer him a Cheshire smile and evade him into your room, placing the last of the bundles inside. "They're mine! Okay? My mom's."

"But h-"

"-She-we don't really trust the banks, okay? Let's keep it at that." Unwilling to part with it, you sling the almost-closed backpack onto one shoulder before walking toward the door. He blocks it.

"I just have to get a few more things and I'm ready, alright?" The hopefulness in your voice does nothing to wipe the disconcerted look from his face.

"I can't just not tell Bruce about this, kid," he warns, a look you can only guess is akin to disappointment on his face. Slipping under his arm and out the door into the hallway, you head back to her room.

"That's fine! But it's still my money. It's everything she ever worked for, and I'm not giving it to him." Upon reentering your mother's room, you stop in the doorway. Sure, the mattress and pillows are askew from your manhandling, but something feels off. Eyes darting to her desk, the top drawer is open, along with some of the side drawers not fully closed. Dresser drawers halfway open with some sock couplings on the floor, it's clear. "Someone's been here," you whisper. Heart jumping in your chest at Jason's proximity, standing just behind you, your hand holds your chest.

"You mean before we got here? How do you know?" He asks. Eyes taking in the space, Jason puts on his detective hat. It's certainly messy, but he'd also just seen you come from this room. Either you're trying to pull something right now, or… he's not sure, yet, but he'll figure it out. He'll figure you out.

"I just know! She never leaves her room like this, and-" pushing at his chest when he doesn't move, you poke your head back in the hallway before ducking under his arm again and running to the dresser. Stashing your mother's jewelry box and perfume into your backpack, you turn and are about to head out of the room when you spot something. A framed photo on her desk of the two of you: it'd been a photo from your trip to Gotham. It was a Christmas present you'd gifted her that year since you didn't really have any photos up of the two of you in your house.

Frame in hand, you stare lovingly at the photo for a moment before a look of determination crosses your features again. Stuffing it in your backpack, you squeeze past Jason into the hallway. Your baby pictures, junior-high graduation photos, and other mementos hung on the wall are mostly untouched, yet at least two photos are askew on the wall. In the hallway bathroom, there's only your makeup bag and skincare that you can take. There are already bathing supplies at the Manor. "If you've ever met a Latina Mom, you'd know that she doesn't keep our house like this! Everything is square and perfect, put away. The only thing that was messy when I left was the kitchen and that was because of breakfast," you inform him. Unloading the backpack from your shoulder onto the couch, you properly zip it up before slugging it over your back again. "I'm ready." If someone really had been here, it's best not to stick around if they decide to come back.

------

While Jason had texted Bruce informing him of your whereabouts upon arrival, he couldn't bring himself to text anything else before the both of you arrived back at the Manor. You'd thanked the man you suppose is your older brother, before departing upstairs with Alfred. And while Bruce had made a move to talk to you, your dismissal was evident in your preference to the contrary. "We need to talk," Jason announces.

"Do you still have it?" Bruce asks, a look of concern upon his features. While both Jon and Clark had gone home soon after your departure, and both Timothy and Stephanie had gone out on patrol, Bruce kept Dick and Damian back. In the event they're all needed, they'll be there, but he'd wanted to have someone around while awaiting your return. Maybe he just didn't want to be alone right now, but he won't admit to that.

"Of course. I wasn't letting her keep that! God knows teenagers don't need guns," Jason grumbles. Reaching around himself, he lifts his shirt to dig the gun out of the back of his waistband.

"Hey! Speak for yourself. I can handle a gun," Damian argues, arms crossing his chest as he stands his ground. "I've been doing target practice since I was two."

"Anyway, she had… at least half a dozen in her arms when I caught her, but who knows how much she really has in her bag! She wouldn't let me touch it."

"So we're talking thousands, then?" Dick asks, hands in his pockets as he leans against the railing in the Batcave. "Shit," he whispers to himself. Hair falling into his face as he looks down at his shoes still processing all of this, his lips screwing in thought.

"At least! And that's not to mention that she insisted someone had 'visited' before us. I checked the locks, and, everything was sound. It was a mess, but, if anyone broke in, it had to be someone with a key. It didn't seem like anything had been taken," Jason expands.

"So what're we thinking? She was dealing?" Dick asks with a thoughtful expression on his features. He finally raises his gaze to meet the group's eyes.

"She has to know something," Damian accuses. Crossing his arms over his chest, the boy's eyebrows are set as he looks more than perturbed by all the information. He'd had a bad feeling about her from the get-go, but this is far beyond anything he had in mind. At least, aside from the really fantastical theories he'd concocted.

"There's no record of criminal history. I'll have to see if this is even registered, and if it's to her mother. I'll look into it," Bruce informs, taking the gun into his possession before walking over to the computer. "Until we find anything, we have to assume that it was a fluke. There was nothing unordinary about this, and I already told you that I don't want anyone digging into this!"

"Bruce, I-" Jason speaks up, a sympathetic feeling in his chest. He can only imagine how this situation has been affecting him. An unknown child suddenly dropped in his hands at the death of a previous lover? And now said child is showing distaste for you? Rough.

"What did I say, Jason?" Bruce barks.

"I only thought you'd want to know! I didn't do any digging, and I'm not going to. Got it? All I did was take a crying girl home, and help her grab some of the things she needs! God knows you wouldn't do it. Besides, she has a lot more that should be moved either into-"

"-storage or here. I know. I'm dealing with it! I told you I've got this covered. If you don't remember, I've been around this ballpark once or twice," Bruce chastizes. Placing the gun under a mirrored device, a red beam shoots out and scans the weapon. Blue eyes stuck to the computers, he reads over whatever report the device is producing.

With a huff of annoyance, Jason swipes his helmet off the nearby metal table and angrily slides it on. Walking away, he only turns back to leave them with one last note: "And for the record, I like her. She's a feisty little thing. Has got a lot more spunk than some of the others around here," he teases, eyes glaring at the two brothers still standing by the ledge murmuring to one another conspiratorily.

"So what's our plan?" Dick asks, ignoring the insults as he turns along with Damian to speak with Bruce.

All the money set up in nice little stacks against the wall underneath and toward the top of your bed, you'd placed your piggy bank on your dresser along with the photo of you and your Mom. Bear propped up to sit against the pillow you don't use, it elicits a faint smile. Jewelry box and perfume add a touch of femininity, and the rest of your items were put into your private bathroom. It's still hard to believe you have one, always having wanted one. It's not until you change into pajamas that you lie on the bed and unlock your phone, hoping to respond to some of the messages you've gotten in the past twenty-four hours.

Of course, your best friend Daisha is worried. Informing her of the situation, it doesn't take long to get back an astonished response. Granted, you'd been the same way yesterday, too. She asks what Wayne Manor is like, and how things are going. Soon, she realizes through text that you really only want to talk about the cool new things in the Manor, so you both revel over all the fancy features you've only found through exploration today. Who knows what else is in store? There's way too much to explore in just one day, and really, you hadn't done much exploring considering you had school and then cried almost all afternoon.

It's only when Daisha's gone to bed and you've been scrolling through memes for far longer than you should have that there are three knocks on your bedroom door. "Come in," you call, expecting Alfred to come in and tell you that you should be sleeping at this hour instead of being awake. He seems like the type to do so. After getting back, he'd informed you of everyone's worry and concern for you, only wanting the best. You'd talked for a while, but overall he eventually dismissed himself with the excuse of more work to be done tonight.

When the door slowly opens, you find it's Bruce juggling two teacups, and a dog at his heels. You know who it is after this afternoon. "Oh! No. Ace, stay out here," he asserts with a wobbly voice as his eyes stay glued to the unsteady teacups.

"It's okay," you assure. At this information, the door swings open wider and the dog pads over to you. Sitting by the edge of your bed, you reach out to pet him. "Hi Ace," you greet, hand brushing over his soft and short fur. "Did you come to check up on me?" You whisper to him with a gentleness that you're sure anyone observing would be baffled by considering he looks intimidating and scary.

"I wanted to talk, and before you say 'no' or tell me to 'get out', just know it's not to argue. I came to apologize," Bruce explains, seating himself at the edge of your bed a few feet from where you sit cross-legged. When you don't say anything, a sigh escapes him, and he holds out one teacup. "I thought you might like some tea before bed."

"How did you know I was awake? Or that I like tea?" You question, eyes shifting from his down to the fancy porcelain cup filled with a yellowish liquid. Taking it into your hands, you let yourself hold onto it, the comforting warmth seeping through the cup and into your palms.

"What happened?" Bruce immediately asks, concern evident in his voice as he notices your palm. "I saw the light from under the door and figured… plus who doesn't like a little chamomile before bed?" He attempts a smile, which you return with an inkling of one. At least he's not yelling at you for your outburst, you figure. "I wasn't sure how you take it, so I didn't put anything in it." It's only after a second that you realize he means milk and sugar.

Contemplating if you're really up for whatever you're sure this discussion will entail right now, it's only once you notice Ace walk in a circle before curling up and lying down that you concede. "I… fell and scraped my hand," you reveal. It's not entirely a lie, you just didn't mention the tree involved. "I just…" you're unsure how to explain why you did it, what came over you, "I'm sorry." His blue eyes stare back at you with a look you're unable to place. Suddenly, he's placing his teacup, then yours, onto the nightstand and enveloping you in a hug.

"You don't have to apologize." His voice rumbles deep in his chest and while you're taken aback at first, he doesn't let up. "I'm just glad you're okay," he says your name with a care that you hadn't realized was there before. Though the strength of his hug partially has you feeling like you'll die of asphyxiation, you bear it. It happens automatically, and despite your best efforts to keep it at bay, the tears come. "I should've talked to you sooner. I realize this is all a big change and I didn't even stop to think about how you'd feel in all this." While he talks you think he finally notices your shaking shoulders as his voice eventually dies down and he retracts from the hug. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I should've asked if you were okay with a hug, I just-"

"It's okay," you respond, voice coming out quieter than you'd anticipated, a shakiness you can't cloak within it. "I just… I didn't get to bring anything, and I didn't feel at home, and…" As your voice fades with your thoughts, he speaks up.

"-I know, and you deserve your things. Whatever you want. Whatever you need, we'll get. We can get some movers to help us get your things from the apartment if you want, either tomorrow or by the end of this week."

"I'm just embarrassed because I didn't mean to make a scene! I… no one deserved that, and-"

"-yes they did." His chuckle surprises you and leaves you taken aback as you stare up at him with incredulity. "I mean, maybe not the viciousness about the BPD and all, as Dick has been trying his best to be supportive, but him and Damian together? Well… they can be troublemakers, I'll say that much. Damian was being rude to you, it's only fair you express how you feel about it. He'll only listen that way, unfortunately. It's something we're working on."

"You're not mad at me?" You whisper, suddenly feeling like the little girl with pigtails in a dress your Mom picked out, crying and praying that you won't get a worse punishment for admitting your fault rather than playing dumb.

"Mad? No. Just… upset with myself, and disappointed that you didn't feel like you could've come to me sooner, and perhaps in a more private setting." The look on your face must say something, considering he continues. "Look, you're not the first kid to curse me out in front of everyone, and I'm sure you won't be the last. Okay? As long as you're okay and you feel welcome and at home here, that's all I care about. Alright?" A big hand on your shoulder, he stares into your eyes with a tacit question. When it seems he's got the answer he's looking for, his shoulders sag a bit and he seems to breathe a little more easily. "What did you even bring back? Can I see?"

Before you can respond, you find his eyes have landed on the photo album you left on the bed in front of your teddy bear. You'd wanted to look at it before going to bed, and it seems now is the best excuse to. "It's my photo album. I know my Mom has more, but, she gave me a bunch of the photos I liked in hers and let me make my own. Do… you want to look at it?" You ask tentatively. He nods, and you grab the album, shifting and taking it into your lap as you move the teddy bear into the middle of the pillows. With a pat beside you where both the album and teddy had been, he scoots backward further onto the bed until he's where you'd patted.

"I know that I haven't been a part of your life, and I know that it was your Mom's decision… and while none of us expected to wind up here, I hope I can--that you'll allow me--to be a part of your life going forward," again, your name falls from his lips. Leaning back against the plush pillows, you point to the lamp on the other bedside table.

"Could you turn that on?" You ask. Doing as you'd said, the second light helps brighten your little area in the grand room. "You're already a part of my life," you point out with a small smile on your face, "but I hope I can get to know you better. The real Bruce Wayne, not just… playboy billionaire Wayne Enterprises, Gotham's most loved celebrity." A teasing smile sits on your lips as amusement fills your chest. Bringing the album into your lap, you flip open the book.

"I hope so too," he agrees, before chuckling uncomfortably, a nervous hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "I don't know about that, but… the real me, I can definitely do." As the book opens, his attention suddenly shifts and he's more engaged, curiosity overtaking as he leans in and examines each photo with intent.

An explanation follows every picture you can remember the pretense of, which isn't too many in the beginning where all your baby photos are. Though as the photos become more and more recent you tell stories, finding that he's actually listening and asking questions, trying to get to know more about the little family you had. Eventually, you both retake your teacups and continue to look at the photos which now sit in the album atop the comforter before both of your laps. Backs hunched over, teacups delicately held in one hand, the other cupping the bottom of it, you two unintentionally mirror the other. The resemblance to an outsider is uncanny, there's no question to Bruce's fatherhood.

Once the album is gone through and you've shown him "Teddy" of course, the beloved bear you'd been gifted at birth. What a unique name, you know… but in your defense you were two when you named him. The Gotham Trip photo's story also told, you simply list the rest of the belongings you'd brought… omitting the cash, of course.

"It's getting late. You should get ready for bed. I decided that you deserve the rest of the week off school. It was too soon to push you into it, and if you're going to help me with the rest of the arrangements then you'll be a bit busy." A surprised, and then excited and appreciative look overtakes your expression, Bruce holding a smile on his lips.

"Thank you! Thank you! You don't know how much this means to me," you cry, hugging him for a moment before sitting back. "I mean… I'm not excited to have to do this… but," your voice takes on a quieter and more serious tone again, "I think it's important I do this. She's my mom, you know?"

"I know," he responds, lips pinched.

"I'll call the school first thing in the morning. But try and get some sleep, please. I know that it'll take some adjusting and getting used to, but I hope you can one day call this home, too," he admits. With another pat on the shoulder, the tall man stands from your bed and pulls the string on the farthest bedside lamp to shut it off. The sound of shuffling by the dresser signals Ace's rise as he trails after the man. "Goodnight."

"Okay, and I will! Goodnight." You're almost half-tempted to say his first name like the others, and while you'd previously been calling him 'Father'... 'Dad' still feels out of bounds for now… so you simply don't say anything.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @moonlightsolo , @jynzandtonic , @ohdamnadam

“Hi, honey,” Y/N’s mother cooed as she walked into the room. Then she placed a plate of food on her nightstand. “I brought you something to eat.”

Y/N didn’t even so much as look at her mother, just continued to stare off into nothing.

“Is it alright if I open of your blinds and windows. I think you could use some fresh air.”

Y/N gave what appeared to be a half shrug, barely visible underneath the thick covers.

But her mother seemed relieved, it was starting to smell musty in the room.

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Y/N’s face. “The funeral’s tomorrow.”

Y/N’s eyes finally looked up at her mother – desperate and scared. “Do I have to go?”

“I think you’d regret it if you didn’t, honey. You deserve your chance to say goodbye. Your father and I will be there with you.”

Then Y/N closed her eyes and burst into tears. “I had a dream about him last night. And I woke up and remembered–” she had to pause to catch her breath. “I-I-I remembered he’s g-gone.”

“Oh, honey,” her mom whispered as she pulled Y/N into her arms. “I know you miss him. I know. He was your best friend.”

Y/N pulled away and looked up at her mom. “He was my only friend,” she corrected.

———

Jason Todd was sitting at a lunch table by himself and reading when someone slammed their tray down across from him. His eyes flickered up in a glare, already expecting someone to try and pick a fight with him or something.

But instead he found a girl standing above him, smirking down at him.

No, not just any girl, the prettiest girl in their grade. No one else at this stupid school seemed to think so. But that just further proved Jason’s theory that everyone here were idiots.

“Hi,” she said confidently.

“H-Hi?” Jason stuttered back.

“I’m sitting with you,” she announced as she sat down. “I’m Y/N.”

Jason finally smirked and remained confused. “I know who you are…”

“You’ve never talked to me, so how was I supposed to know?” Y/N said back. “And you’re Jason Todd.”

“Yes?” He responded.

Y/N laughed at his confusion.

Jason Todd wasn’t popular. There was a disconnect between him and his peers. The kids at Gotham Academy were trust-fund babies and spoiled brats. They were such snobs that there were even cliques separating the kids who came from old money from those who came from new money. It all seemed ridiculous after literally starving in the slums of the city. 

Jason Todd wasn’t a rebel. He didn’t lash out or let his inability to connect to the other students make him feel down. Ask any teacher who had him and they would say he was a straight-A student and he never once caused trouble in their class. He was always polite and respectful, responsible and well-behaved.

Jason Todd wasn’t bullied. Maybe it was a vibe he gave off, but somehow the other kids knew not to mess with him. Jason came to school with a black eye once, and he always wondered if it freaked them all out enough to never try to mess with him – not that they would ever stand a chance against him.

In regards to the middle school hierarchy, Jason was nobody.

Because Jason Todd wasn’t really a kid. He just had the misfortune of also not being an adult yet.

He was just a poor punk from the Narrows, who just happened to try and steal the tires off the car of Gotham’s notorious vigilante. He didn’t belong at this snobby prep school.

But going to school was one of Bruce’s demands after making Jason his new Robin.

Jason just didn’t know how to make a convincing argument for why he didn’t need social interactions with kids his own age.

“Is this some kind of dare?” Jason asked Y/N.

She froze her eating and scoffed at him. “You’ve watched too many bad teen movies. What kind of asshole would I be to do something like that?”

But Jason still looked around the cafeteria, expecting to find a table full of people watching this interaction and trying to hide their giggles.

Y/N finally slammed down her food, sat back, and crossed her arms. “People at this school suck.”

“Uhh…OK?”

“I saw you reading Pride & Prejudice the other week. And you were wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt yesterday. You helped pick up Jill’s stuff when her backpack ripped open, while everyone else just laughed.” She paused. But Jason waited. “What I’m saying is that I’ve decided that you don’t suck.”

“Oh,” Jason blurted out.

“Do you honestly think anyone at this school even knows who Jane Austen is? And some dude in my English class tried to tell me Nickelback was his favorite band.”

Jason laughed at that. “How did you even respond to that?”

“I asked him if he was fucking with me and then the teacher yelled at me for swearing. And I told her, ‘How am I supposed to react to a Nickelback fan without using profanities?’”

Jason laughed again.

That was how Jason and Y/N became best friends. That was all it took.

Jason would soon find out that Y/N didn’t belong here just as much as him. She didn’t come from money – just your normal, middle-class suburban family. She’d won a full-ride scholarship to Gotham Academy, which was impressive since they only handed out one per grade.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne made one 30-second call and Jason was accepted – no questions asked.

Y/N was rather mature for her age, but it wasn’t the product of being Batman’s sidekick and fighting the criminals of Gotham City.

—

Any second Jason had to be a normal kid was spent hanging out with Y/N. Jason was at Y/N’s house all the time, loving Y/N’s parents and envious of the stable home Y/N got to grow up in.

It took awhile for Jason to feel comfortable inviting Y/N to the manor, despite Alfred saying he was welcome to have friends over whenever he wished. Jason eventually got over his embarrassment. While Y/N seemed in awe of Wayne Manor, the evidence of Jason’s wealth didn’t make her treat him any different. They mostly hung out in Jason’s room anyways. Or in the kitchen when Alfred made them snacks.

While they were at school, they always ate lunch together and walked to classes shoulder-to-shoulder any chance they got. They only needed each other.

They ignored everyone else. And in return, everyone else left them alone.

For the most part.

—

Jason should’ve known something was wrong when he heard the commotion on his way to third period.

When he heard kids start chanting “Fight!” his gut somehow knew Y/N was involved.

Jason shoved his way through the thick circle that was surrounding the drama.

He reached the opening just in time to see Y/N tackle a boy named Parker to the ground. The crowd gasped, not actually expecting them to actually go through with violence. Then Y/N lifted her fist and landed a punch to Parker’s face.

But Jason quickly stepped forward and pulled Y/N off.

“He’s not worth it, Y/N.”

Recognizing the voice of her best friend, Y/N allowed him to pull her away.

“Gonna let your boyfriend pull you away?” Parker yelled out.

Y/N whipped back toward him, but Jason wrapped his arms around her and held her back. “Y/N, leave it!”

“I’m not the one with the a black eye and bloodied nose, asshole!” Y/N screamed, only half fighting Jason’s hold. “Next time, I’ll kick you so hard in your tiny dick that you won’t be able to have kids.”

Jason managed to drag her through the halls with a vice-like grip on her hand.

Y/N scoffed at his efforts, “Where are you even taking me?”

“We’re ditching class.”

She shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Jason knew exactly what exit didn’t have an alarmed rigged to it or any video surveillance. He also grabbed a cellphone in his back pocket and started to type frantically.

“You have a cellphone! What? Since when? My parents said I can’t get one until high school,” Y/N groaned enviously.

Little did she know, Jason had set up an AI system that would call the school with Bruce’s voice and leave a recording about how Jason needed to be dismissed from school. It was perfect for Bat emergencies. 

He had added Y/N’s parents voices to the algorithm a few months ago, having a hunch it would come in handy.

As soon as they were a safe distance away from the school, Y/N let go of Jason’s hand and walked slightly ahead of him.

With their freedom secured, Jason could focus on Y/N now.

“What did he do?” He asked her gently.

Y/N was smart and calculated. If she’d picked a fight with someone, Jason knew it had to have been caused by something serious.

“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled.

Jason rushed forward and stopped her walking. “Hey, come on. It’s me you’re talking to…”

Y/N nodded, knowing he was right. They told each other everything, or so she thought.

Her eyes went to the ground, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “We were in health class. Today was the unfortunate lesson for learning male and female anatomy. Mrs. Martin started talking about…” Y/N hesitated. “She started talking about boobs. Said something about when girls start seeing a change.”

“And?” Jason urged softly.

“Parker chimed in and said, ‘Or if you’re Y/L/N… never.’”

Embarrassed by her confession, Y/N started walking again – quicker, this time.

Jason jogged to catch up to her. “Fuck him. Only a loser asshole would say something like that.”

“Well…he’s probably right.”

Jason shrugged. “Who cares?”

This time Y/N stopped walking. “You don’t get it,” she snapped. “Every girl in our grade is growing up. And I still have the chest of a boy. My mom won’t even let me buy a bra because she says I don’t need it yet.”

Jason was speechless. 

To be honest, he had never really noticed. Y/N wore baggy band t-shirts or flannels all the time. He wasn’t exactly studying her silhouette when they hung out. But he never imagined that Y/N would be bothered by something like that.

“Sometimes I’d just like to…I don’t fucking know…feel like a girl.” She paused. “A pretty girl,” she emphasized.

Jason stared into her eyes. “You are a pretty girl.”

Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes. “J, you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m serious. You’re the prettiest girl in our grade, Y/N.”

That caught her off guard. He’d never said anything like that to her before. 

Sure, Jason said nice things to her. But it was usually him complimenting her taste in music or thanking her for showing him a new book he loved. But he’d never called her pretty before.

Jason, worried that he’d exposed himself, pulled her to him so he could give her a noogie. And the moment was broken.

“Jason! I think I’ve proved today that I will hit a bitch!”

He just laughed and playfully shoved her away. “Come on. I’ll buy you one of those embarrassing frappuccinos from Starbucks.”

“Excuse you! They’re not embarrassing. They’re delicious.”

Jason could tell Y/N didn’t want to talk about the fight anymore. So he thought distracting her was the next best thing. 

And, by some miracle, they returned to school the next day without any punishment.

But Jason wasn’t done yet.

Parker didn’t realize he was messing with Robin’s best friend.

Jason was patient. He waited for the precise moment when Parker would be alone.

A week after the fight, Parker turned the corner of an empty hallway and jumped when he nearly ran into Jason.

“What do you want, Todd?”

Jason took a step toward him and lowered his voice, “If you ever say anything like that to Y/N again – or to any girl, for that matter – I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you.”

Parker side eyed him. “Yeah, right.”

Without hesitating, Jason reached forward, grabbed Parkers palm, and snapped the index finger of his dominant hand.

Parker let out a screech of pain and fell to his knees.

Jason kneeled down to whisper in his ear, “No witnesses. No cameras. And I’m actually in gym class right now, running the mile. No one will believe you.”

Parker looked up at Jason like he was a madman.

Jason smiled and patted him on the head. “Remember what I said.”

After that, Parker never even so much as looked in Y/N’s direction.

—

Jason and Y/N looked out for each other, protected each other

And Jason may have kept his other life of Robin from her, but Y/N seemed to already sense that there was something Jason was hiding. It wasn’t just something, it was dark.

When Y/N started noticing bruises and cuts on Jason’s body, she grew concerned. But she wanted to observe and think of all the possibilities before she ever brought it up.

Then one day at her house, she made a joke and slapped Jason playfully on the back.

He hissed uncontrollably and his entire body froze.

“Jason?” Y/N asked with concern.

“I’m fine. You just surprised me and knocked the wind out of me,” Jason said hurriedly.

But Y/N wasn’t stupid. She quickly grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and ripped it up so she could see his back.

“JASON! What the fuck!” She gasped in horror as she saw the bruises scattered across his skin. She had never seen anything like it. 

“Shh!” Jason tried to calm her to stop her parents from coming in and then having her immediately showing them too.

“What happened?” Y/N whispered, her eyes glazed over with tears.

“Nothing. I’m fine, Y/N. I promise.”

“You’re not fine. And this isn’t the first time,” Y/N countered. “You think you do a good job of hiding them, but I see the other bruises and cuts, Jason. And don’t think I don’t notice how often you skip school because your ‘sick.’”

Jason stayed quiet. He didn’t want to lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her. It could put her in danger. And if Bruce ever found out, he’d put a stop to the whole thing. Jason would never be Robin ever again.

“He does it,” Y/N whispered.

Jason blinked. “Who?”

“Bruce,” she clarified. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

Jason’s eyes widened in horror. He knew Y/N was weary of his adoptive father. She noticed how absent he was from Jason’s life, then took note of how cold he was when he was present. But her theory made perfect sense. And if the roles were reversed, Jason probably would’ve come to the same conclusion.

“Y/N, Bruce has never hurt me.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to protect him. And you don’t have to take his shit. I knew something was off about him ever since I met him. But I didn’t think it was this.”

“Y/N…” Jason began.

“Does Alfred know?” She couldn’t imagined him every letting something like this happen if he did. Y/N had grown to love Alfred almost as much as Jason.

“There’s nothing for him to know, Y/N.” Jason laughed. “I was trying to walk across the railing above the great hall and fell and landed on my back. I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed, OK?”

He knew from Y/N’s face that she wasn’t convinced. But she also knew not to push someone who was in the position she thought Jason was.

But to his horror, tears started falling.

“I just…I want you know that I’d do anything for you. You can live here! My parents love you and they’d take you in! Or-or-or we can run away together – just you and me.”

Jason hated seeing her cry. She rarely ever did it. And to know he was the cause made him feel sick.

Not knowing what else to do, Jason pulled her into a hug.

“I’m OK, Y/N. Promise. You don’t have to worry about me. Please don’t cry.”

“We just have to steal some of the stupid jewelry he has laying around and we’d be set for life,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

Jason laughed and pulled away. “Bruce took me in. Gave me a better life. He’s protected me. I know you don’t believe me, but the bruises aren’t because of him.”

Y/N wiped the tears away sloppily and nodded, but they both knew that Y/N didn’t believe him.

Y/N didn’t look at Bruce the same since that day. Not that she spent a lot of time around him.

But Bruce shared a look with Jason when he received the first very harsh glare from the pre-teen girl. It ended with a very uncomfortable conversation between Bruce and Jason where the boy explained what theory Y/N had come to.

Though Bruce said very little in response, he was wracked with guilt. To learn that someone thought he had the potential to behold the evil he tried so hard to eradicate in the world? It made Bruce sick to his stomach.

———

Now Y/N stood with her head hung low, in a crowd dressed in black.

These people didn’t know Jason Todd. Maybe they played the part of mourning funeral goer well. But Y/N saw their performances still.

The only people Y/N recognized were Bruce Wayne, Alfred, and Jason’s older brother, Dick Grayson. She’d never met him before, only seen pictures of him around the manor. Jason always seemed disappointed when Y/N brought Dick up or tried to ask about him. Y/N got the impression that he wasn’t all that great of a brother to Jason. Especially when it was obvious Jason looked up to him and was desperate for some sort of fraternal relationship.

Y/N looked up at her mother when the priest was finished with whatever he was saying. His words were impersonal, sullied by religion, and did nothing to comfort Y/N. He didn’t even say one thing about what made Jason so great. 

“Can we go now?” She whispered to her mother.

She patted Y/N’s back. “There’s a gathering inside the house now. We should say our condolences to Mr. Wayne and Alfred.”

Y/N frowned at that. The last person she wished to talk to was Bruce Wayne.

She had been watching the man through the entire service. He was stoic and collected. There didn’t seem to be any sadness to be found in his eyes.

The longer Y/N watched him, the angrier she became.

“Please, let’s just go,” Y/N begged her mother.

People were making there way into the manor now and weren’t paying any attention to a girl, despite the fact that she was the best and only friend of the boy they were pretending to mourn.

Her mother gave her a sympathetic look. “Honey, don’t you want to say hi to Alfred. I’m sure it would make him happy to see you.”

Y/N knew her mother was right. She could do that for Alfred. Plus, he gave the best hugs, and Y/N could sure use one of them right now.

They waited in a sort of informal line. Y/N wanted to hit everyone in front of them as she was forced to listen to their empty and rehearsed sympathies. Bruce didn’t say much in return, simply thanking each of them.

But when Y/N and her parents were finally up, Bruce Wayne’s expression shifted.

It was the first time Y/N saw any sort of emotion from the man. He looked heartbroken at the sight of Y/N, who’s hand was tightly gripping her mothers.

Bruce, standing at 6’2, knelt down to be at Y/N’s eye level.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greeted quietly so no one lingering around them could hear.

Y/N only glared at him. 

If she were being honest, she was surprised he even remembered her name. 

But Bruce continued. “Thank you for coming today. I’m sure the past few days haven’t been easy for you.”

Then he cleared his throat. And Y/N’s brow furrowed at the sound. Was he trying to hold back tears? No, that couldn’t be possible.

“I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Jason. He talked about you all the time. I’m glad he had someone like you in his life.”

Y/N felt nauseous at how genuine Bruce Wayne’s words sounded. His eyes were even more sincere.

What happened to the cold and distance man she’d had little to no interaction with?

‘He has an audience now,’ Y/N told herself. ‘He knows everyone’s watching. He’s performing just like the rest of them.’

“What did you do to him?” Y/N finally whispered to him.

Where she got the courage to speak to an adult in such a way, she had no idea – especially one as powerful as Bruce Wayne.

Bruce tensed at her question. Was that hurt in his eyes?

“Y/N!” Her mother hissed down at her.

“It was you. I know it was,” Y/N muttered as her lips trembled and tears started falling. She thought she’d run out of tears, but this was her final outburst.

“Y/N, enough!” Her mother hissed again and then made eye contact with Bruce and Alfred. “I’m so sorry. She’s not…she’s not handling any of this well.”

“You did this to him!” Y/N yelled. “He always had bruises…and-and-and cuts! You used to hurt him!”

“Y/N!” Her father finally chimed in, completely stunned by his daughter’s accusations.

“I hate you!” Y/N screamed in Bruce’s face as tears flowed down her face.

With that, she ripped her hand from her mom’s grasp and made a run for it. She heard her parents yell her name, but she ignored it and kept running.

Bruce stood up, looking unfazed from Y/N’s hateful and accusatory outburst.

“We are so, so sorry,” Y/N’s mom insisted. “She’s never done anything like that before.”

Bruce held up a hand, stopping them from continuing. “It’s alright. Really.” Then he sighed. “I’ll have Alfred go find her in a bit. Perhaps she just needs to let out some steam.”

Y/N didn’t even realize where she was running until she ended up at Jason’s bedroom.

Her entire body shook with sobs as she opened up the door.

It looked exactly the same, like nothing had even happened.

Y/N walked to the other side and slide against the giant windows, curling into a ball on the floor with her arms hugging her knees to her chest.

She cried and she cried and she cried.

There was no way for her to know how long she’d been there. But her head snapped up when there was a knock on the doorframe.

Dick Grayson leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and a sad smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he greeted softly.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the snot from her nose with the back of her fist, “Hi.”

“I’m Dick,” he introduced as he closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of Jason’s bed, making sure to give Y/N her space.

“I know,” Y/N answered back through a stuffy nose.

“Alfred tells me you and Jason were good friends.”

“We were each other’s only friend,” Y/N corrected him.

Dick nodded slowly.

“I hate him,” Y/N mumbled.

Dick winced. “Jason?”

“Bruce.”

“Believe it or not, I know how that feels,” he sighed.

“Did he hit you, too?” Y/N asked with wide eyes.

Dick opened his mouth, but was so shocked by the question that no words escaped.

“Why didn’t you help him?” She followed up with. “Where were you?”

Dick knew she wasn’t asking what he felt like she was: Why didn’t you stop the Joker? Why was Robin all alone? Why didn’t Batman call you for help?

But that didn’t stop her interrogation from hurting him.

“I haven’t always been there for him,” Dick finally admitted. “Actually…I’ve never really been there for him.”

Y/N looked at him with bewilderment. “Umm…” she sniffed. “I should find my parents.”

When she stood up, something caught her attention on Jason’s desk.

Y/N’s hand shook as she picked up Pride & Prejudice. He was the only middle school boy she’s ever seen reading a Jane Austen book. It was one of the reasons she wanted to befriend him in the first place.

“Keep it,” Dick surprised her by saying.

She quickly turned around and gave him a questioning look.

“You should keep it,” he told her. Then he looked at the overflowing book case she was standing near. “Take whatever ones want. He’d want you to have them.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered through the bookcase. Her heart was telling her, ‘No, they’re his books. He’ll need them when he gets back.’ But Jason Todd wasn’t coming back.

So she reached up and grabbed Jane Eyre and then Frankenstein.

“That’s it?” Dick asked. Because he would’ve let her take Jason’s entire collection.

Y/N nodded shyly.

Dick escorted her through the house and back to the gathering.

When she saw Alfred, Y/N rushed forward.

Dick’s heart ached as he saw the butler immediately kneel down and pull Y/N into a hug. He wondered what the man whispered to her. Whatever it was, it seemed to comfort her in a way that apparently nothing else was.

Then Y/N’s parents returned to her side. Dick expected them to scold her for her earlier outburst, but they just seemed concerned and started making their leave.

Y/N looked behind her and searched through the crowd to find Dick again. When she did, she gave him a sad wave.

Dick returned it with a sorrowful smile.

———

8 Years Later...

Jason had been keeping tabs on her since he returned to Gotham. He kept his distance, remained out of sight. He would jump from rooftop to rooftop as she walked home from a night class. Or he would wait for the window of her apartment bedroom to go off if it was a slow night of patrolling.

He told himself it was out of curiosity. But he knew deep down he was making sure she stayed safe.

Jason was happy to see that Y/N didn’t retain her lonesome ways in her life after his death. He frequently spotted her having dinner or drinks with friends.

But Jason didn’t know how to feel when it was clear that Y/N had no romantic partner. Was he relieved? Was he irritated that someone didn’t love and care for her the way she deserved? Would he have been jealous if there was someone in his life?

Jason wanted to find her as soon as he was brought from the dead. Even when he felt like he’d gone insane, when his thoughts didn’t make sense and he was confused…her face still echoed through his mind.

But vengeance became his priority.

And with it, Jason slowly convinced himself that it was best to stay far away from the only person he still cared about.

But that didn’t mean her didn’t want answers still.

After his war with Bruce – or really, his attempted murder Batman and the Joker – Jason allowed himself to actually look back on his old life, the parts that didn’t involve being a child vigilante.

Still not on speaking terms with Bruce. Jason decided to get his info from another source.

Cue a month or so after his brush with Bruce, Jason blindsided Dick the next time he was in Gotham and slammed him against the closest brick wall.

Jason used to look up to Dick as a kid, despite his older brother rarely even giving him the time of day.

But now, Dick was quite literally looking up at Jason. 

While Jason died a 13-year-old Robin, he was now a 6’3 man who had the set of a heavyweight boxer. Dick might be more flexible and acrobatic, but Jason had brute strength.

“What? B tell all of you not to talk to me?” Jason challenged when Dick didn’t fight his hold or speak to him.

“What do you want?” Dick asked evenly.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason growled, his voice distorted through his helmet.

“Keep tabs on who?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

Dick finally had enough of being bullied and shoved Jason’s grip off him. “Why don’t you look her up yourself? I’m sure you have no issue with hacking every personal database of hers.”

“That’s not why I’m asking,” Jason growled.

In fact, Jason had already done everything Dick had suggested. Which made him see that she had made a third-party domestic violence report to the police a week or so after Jason had died. And she had kept following up with it until the police finally came clean and told her there was no evidence to support her claim and she was wasting her time.  

It seemed Y/N was the only person that fought for Jason after he was gone. She had just picked the wrong fight.

“Why did you keep tabs on her?” Jason clarified.

“I just wanted to make sure she was OK.”

That caught him off guard a bit, seeing as Dick never gave a shit about Jason when he was alive. So why would he look after his best friend?

“What? Out of the goodness of your heart?” Jason ridiculed.

“She didn’t handle your death well, Jason. She even picked a fight with Bruce at your funeral.”

Jason smirked behind the safety of his helmet at the image.

Dick sighed and finally put down his defenses. “I failed you, Jason. All of us failed you.” He shook his head as he got lost in a memory. “Y/N even asked me why I hadn’t tried harder to protect you.”

Dick’s eyes saddened. “I figured if I couldn’t be there for you, the least I could do was make sure the most important person in your life was OK.”

It wasn’t the answer Jason was suspecting, but it was all he came for.

“Will you go see her?” Dick asked as he saw that Jason was about to take his leave.

“We were kids. Things have changed,” Jason grunted.

“I don’t think any of that would matter to her,” Dick defended. “I think she’d like to see you and know you’re OK.”

“Mind your business,” was the last thing Jason snapped at him before jumping off the rooftop and disappearing.

————

Jason did what he said: he left Y/N alone. 

He watched over her when he could. But most importantly, he didn’t drop a ghost from the past back into her life.

But he also tried to find that ghost in himself.

Somedays he thought that Jason Todd was lost forever.

But other days, like today, he still seemed to live on.

Jason browsed through the books on the shelves. He missed so many of them when he was dead and then when he reinvented himself.

Now he saw books as a time to fill in the empty space.

He was lost reading the back of covers when he heard it. No, when he heard her.

Next thing Jason knew, he was walking toward it.

“I’m sorry, dear. We’re all sold out of that title. You should’ve reserved it weeks ago,” one of the clerks told her with sympathy.

Jason peered between the shelves and caught a glimpse of y/h/c.

“I know. I just totally spaced. I think I’ll just browse for something else. Thank you for your help.”

Her voice sounded mostly the same, maybe a bit more mature. But he still would recognize it anywhere.

Jason knew he shouldn’t move any closer.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He was just one aisle away from her now, only a bookshelf separating them.

He slowly edged around the corner and smiled as he saw the massive pile of books that Y/N was trying to juggle in her arms. When she tried adding one more, they broke free from her grasp and stumbled loudly to the ground.

Jason didn’t know what he was thinking as he jumped forward and bent down to help her pick them up.

He saw her blush, but keep her head dipped from the embarrassment.

“Thank you,” she quickly laughed as she tried to pile the books back together as fast as possible.

Y/N opened her mouth to say more, but the words got caught in her mouth when she finally met Jason’s eyes.

He wondered how different he looked to her. Could she even recognize him? Or was he fooling himself when he became convinced he was an entirely different person after being brought back from the dead?

But his questions were answered when Y/N looked in shock, only unfreezing when her eyes began to tear up.

“It’s not possible,” she said so quietly that it was barely a whisper.

“Everyone good? I heard a loud noise.” The clear interrupted loudly.

Y/N jumped in response.

Jason stood and faced the clerk, “We’re fine.”

But when he turned back around, Y/N had booked it.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed before carefully handing the books to the clerk and quickly following after Y/N.

She made it further than he would expect. He actually had to look around the streets outside the store for a moment before he could spot her.

As soon as he did, he ran. But he called her name before he reached her to make sure he didn’t terrify her more.

Y/N froze when she heard him and whipped around. “Who are you?” She asked roughly.

There was a moment, when she first met Jason’s blue eyes, where she allowed herself to believe that perhaps a miracle had occurred.

But now she only saw this as some sort of heinous prank.

“It’s me, Y/N.” Jason almost sounded like he was begging her. 

She then fully took him in. Yes, he had the same face. But now he was a full-grown man – and an extremely handsome one at that.

“I shouldn’t have spooked you like that. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been dead for 8 years,” she muttered.

“I know. It’s a…” Jesus. Jason didn’t even know how to go about this. “It’s a long and complicated story.”

“Were you ever really dead?” Then Y/N’s eyes flashed with a realization. “Did you stage your death? To get away from him?”

Bruce. She meant to get away from Bruce.

Jason looked around. This was no place to have this conversation. He couldn’t believe they were having it at all.

“Fuck. OK.” He quickly shuffled through his pockets until he found an old paper receipt and a pen. He quickly wrote something down.

“I know this is…a lot.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Y/N of the Jason she used to know. “If you want nothing to do with me, I understand. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He took in a deep breath and handed her the receipt.

Y/N slowly took it and looked down to see a phone number written down.

“You deserve time and space to…” he couldn’t find the right word, “process all of this.”

Y/N watched him as if she was expecting him to vanish like some sort of hallucination.

“After you do,” Jason continued. “If you’re willing to hear me out, I’ll be there,” he told her sincerely as he gestured to the number Y/N now held in her hand.

He waited for Y/N to say something, or maybe even try to make a run for her life.

But after what felt like forever, Y/N gave a short nod.

Jason gave her a shy grin as he slowly started walking backwards. He hesitated saying one last thing for her. But his mind finally told him, ‘Fuck it.’

“I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

————

Jason told himself not to get his hopes up. Y/N had every right to be horrified by him and wish to never see him again. From what Dick described, Y/N hadn’t handled Jason’s death well at all. What child could?

But when Jason got a text from Y/N’s number a week later, asking him to come to her place, he couldn’t help but beam.

Except reality then quickly settled in. And it reminded Jason that this conversation would involve talking about his past for the first time.

‘Suck it up. She deserves to know,’ he heard his past self screaming in his mind.

An hour later, Jason was knocking on Y/N’s apartment door.

“Hi,” she greeted stiffly.

“Hi.”

She led him to her bedroom. “My roommates aren’t home right now. But who knows how long that’ll last.”

Jason didn’t stop himself from looking around. Maybe it was a habit, all of his training of taking in every new environment with acute detail. But really Jason just wanted to take in Y/N and her new life.

That’s when he spotted the three books.

Jason immediately reached for one of them.

“Oh,” Y/N said sadly as she saw what he grabbed. “Umm…Dick told me I could take those. He…umm…said you’d want me to have them.”

“You kept them all this time?” He muttered, still looking at Pride & Prejudice.

“Of course.” Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “You can have them back. I mean, they’re yours after all.”

Jason smirked at her fumbling. “No, keep ‘em.”

Then the tension from this strange reunion returned to the room.

Y/N gave him a heartbroken look and sat on the edge of her bed. “Jason,” she whispered, “what the hell happened to you?”

Jason slowly joined her on the bed.

His breathing shook as he tried to prepare.

But Y/N deserved to know the truth – the whole truth.

So he told her everything. He told her he was Robin. He told her how he died. He told her how he came back to life. He told her where he’d been.

The only thing he left out was how she was all he could think about when he watched the bomb tick down to 0 and he knew he was about to die. 

But the hardest part was explaining why returning to her wasn’t the first thing he did.

“It wasn’t Bruce. It…you…you were Robin that whole time?” Y/N couldn’t even seem to process it.

Jason just gave a curt nod.

“I reported him,” Y/N gasped. “I was convinced he had something to do with your death.”

Jason winced at that. “Well, if you asked him, I’m sure he’d take responsibility for it still.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she tried to take another look at the past now that she knew the real truth that had been hidden. So many things made sense: all the injuries, Bruce’s behavior, Dick being a distant brother – all of it.

“Y/N,” Jason whispered. Her eyes whipped to his. “I’m so sorry for leaving you like that.”

Y/N finally allowed herself to cry. “Missing you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Jason didn’t care about keeping his distance any longer. He pulled Y/N into his arms, just like he used to when they were kids.

Eventually, her crying slowed and Jason knew he needed to finally say the hardest thing about this all.

“But I can’t stay, Y/N.”

Y/N wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“I’m not…I’m not that kid anymore. I’ve done things – terrible things – that won’t ever let me return to the person you knew.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said surprisingly harsh.

“What?”

“I said I don’t care,” even though she knew he heard her. “You think I’m the same person after 8 years, Jason? You think that little girl didn’t face the consequences of losing the best friend she’s ever had?”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that.

Y/N wiped away her tears and her entire body shifted. “From everything you’ve told me, you don’t seem to have many friends – if any. So, sounds like you could use one.”

How could Jason have overlooked Y/N’s stubbornness when he anticipated how this would all end?

“I lost you once. I’m not losing you again. Especially not with all I know now,” she added. 

Jason didn’t even bother fighting her on it. Y/N had always been his greatest weakness. At least he knew that hadn’t changed.

“OK.” He agreed. “So what now?”

Y/N smiled at his surrender. “Now…we have a whole lot of catching up to do.”

--------------------

Wow. I did not realize how long this was going to take me. 

“So, dodgeball?”

“I'm sure I've told you that I was the dodgeball champion at my school. Right?” you asked, your voice heavy with sleep.

“I didn't know about that until I got back to the manor before patrol and Damian was whining about you thinking that you'd beat him in it,” your boyfriend informed you with a light chuckle.

You sighed. “It's not my fault that I'm just the best at dodgeball babe. I don't mean to make him feel inadequate, but I can't change my skill level.” Dick laughed at your antics before kissing the top of your head and settling in for sleep. “G’night love,” you mumbled, nuzzling into his chest.

“Goodnight.”

You woke up that morning to an empty bed. You stretched out and listened. Mornings with Dick out of bed either meant he was cooking (or attempting to cook) in the kitchen, taking a shower, or out for work with Bruce, but judging by the sound of running water, you figured he was in the shower.

Laying in bed for a few more minutes, you checked your phone. You had two unread texts from one of your employees, Justin. You ran an art shop that was mostly online. Selling art prints and trinkets like buttons and keychains, however, you had a small storefront in Downtown Blüdhaven. It wasn’t the nicest area to own a shop, but it never drew much attention anyways. Because you were fairly popular online, even with the storefront not gathering too much popularity, you were able to pay your few employees, and it also allowed for a flexible schedule. Reading the texts you saw that you were out of stock of some of the best-sellers in store, so you quickly set out and ordered more of what you needed, before texting Justin back to let him know you’d be coming in today to check up on the store and stuff like you did every Monday.

Upon leaving your bedroom however, you found that there were more people than just Dick in your apartment. You were startled at first, but then you realized that it was Damian and Bruce.

“Uh, hey guys?”

“Hello, (Y/L/N).”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you guys here? Did Dick let you in?” you weren’t upset about them being in your apartment. You were, however, extremely confused.

“Sorry (Y/N). Damian refused to cooperate with me and Alfred this morning because he wanted to play dodgeball or something…”

“Wait! It’s Monday! Dami, don’t you have school?” you asked, looking at the clock on your microwave in the kitchen. 8:27.

“Tt, I did not wish to attend school today. You told me you would challenge me in dodgeball.” “Oh, buddy. I didn’t mean today, just kinda. In the future, you know?”

“That is fine, however I was thinking over what you said at lunch yesterday and decided I didn’t want to go through with making friends. I’m avoiding school.”

You shot Bruce an apologetic look before telling Damian he couldn’t avoid school forever and offering to drop him off. “I suppose, but my first class started half an hour ago.”

“Okay bud, I’ll get cleaned up real quick and we can head out.” You ran to your room and grabbed a change of clothes before heading into the bathroom. Dick was just getting out of the shower, and he was about to walk straight from the bathroom to your room (without a towel) before you stopped him. “Babe, at least put a towel on. We have… visitors.”

“Visitors? Who?”

“Dami and Bruce. He refused to go to school today without seeing me or something, so I’m gonna drop him off.”

“When did they get here?”

“I don’t know, I came out of my room and they were there? I mean, they obviously just let themselves in,” you noted. “I’m going to have to get used to that, aren’t I?”

“Yup,” he said, wrapping a towel around his waist and walking to your room. You could hear Damian’s protests of disgust from where you were and couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you brushed your teeth.

Slipping into shorts, a sweatshirt, and a comfy pair of shoes, and throwing your hair into a messy ponytail, you headed out to get Damian to school and then to work. “Okay bud, let’s get you to school,” you said, ruffling Damian’s hair (as you found his messy hair was quite adorable, and he was even cuter with a pout on his face). You said goodbye to Bruce, telling him you would deal with the boy, and that he should head off to work. He sent you a grateful smile, ecstatic that somebody was willing to deal with the little monster he called his son, and headed out. You quickly turned to Dick, who was now fully dressed and ready to go to the Manor to help solve a case Tim was obsessing over, and gave him a kiss, earning a sound of disgust from the young boy on the other side of the room. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Wanna meet me at the manor after you check up on the store?”

“Sure! Love you babe, see ya,” you said, leaving another lingering kiss on his lips before leaving with Dami.