#dick grayso

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.” 

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone. 

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him. 

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity. 

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind. 

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.”  Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.” 

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now. 

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already. 

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding. 

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices. 

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

#

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach. 

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father. 

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?” 

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information. 

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.” 

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns. 

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian. 

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down. 

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone. 

Damian is lonely.

#

Patrol is a necessary evil. 

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has. 

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops. 

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions. 

The akuma frowns, tenses. 

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

 Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity. 

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses. 

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?” 

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.” 

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake. 

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now? 

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham. 

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off. 

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills. 

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it. 

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now. 

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease. 

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something? 

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone. 

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?” 

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again? 

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment. 

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin. 

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds. 

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?” 

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.” 

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.  

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him. 

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help. 

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to. 

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding. 

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good. 

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time.  “Who else knows? Do you?” 

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?” 

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?” 

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict. 

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends. 

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

"Word of advice; never check your hashtag."

Zuko muttered a thank you to Dick as he set his phone down to take a cup of tea being offered to him by his older brother, who say down himself and leaned his elbows on his knees. He smiled softly as he looked at Zuko. "Look, everybody thinks that we care about their opinion. They feel like their opinion on things we do matters, especially the negative ones. Plus, a lot of it's just for attention, just to get us to see it and say something."

"Don't worry about me," Zuko sighed, "I'm used to people saying things like that."

"I'm sorry about that." The two say in silence for a few minutes, before Dick perked up. "I forgot!" he fumbled to grab the remote, "I was going to show you Brooklyn Nine-Nine!"

"What's that?" Zuko asked, taking a sip of his tea. "This is really good, by the way, almost as good as my Uncle's."

"Thanks, Alfred makes the best tea," Dick replied, going to Hulu on the tv, "But Brooklyn NIne Nine is amazing! It's a cop show but so funny at the same time!" He pushed play, and sat back to watch.

It was funny. Zuko laughed a few times. He couldn't stay focused for long, though. He was nervous. His interview with Gotham Gazette was coming up the next week. He'd given interviews as Prince of the Fire Nation, but he'd always been with his father and sister, never really speaking unless agreeing with his father.

As if sensing his nervousness, Dick spoke. "Hey, I know you're nervous about the interview, but I promise it'll be okay. It won't be televised, and Bruce paid the Gazette to allow a family friend, Lois Lane, to interview you. She knows about all of this, including you being from another dimension, so it'll be easier."

Zuko took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Who is Lois, exactly?"

"Superman's wife," Bruce said as he walked into the room, holding a manila folder in his hand. He smiled. "How are you doing, Zuko?"

"I'm fine," Zuko said, crossing his arms  after he set his tea down on to the coffee table.

"It's okay to be nervous, it's your first interview," Bruce said kindly, sitting on the other side of him "I was for mine." Zuko looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You? Nervous?"

Bruce laughed. "Oh, yeah. I was terrified. I was about your age. The Gazette wanted an exclusive about the new Healthcare program Wayne Enterprises were putting together- which I had little to no part of since Lucius Fox was running it for me."

"What'd you do?" asked Zuko, shifting to face the man.

"Alfred phoned the Gazette and played the sad orphan card for me so I could get the questions in advance," Bruce explained, smoothing the folder on his lap. "Lucius told me the answers to all of them, and so I knew what to say when the interview came."

"Lucky," Zuko snorted. Bruce smiled softly.

"No. Not luck. I just had people that loved me looking out for me." He handed Zuko the folder. "I called Lois and asked her to send over the questions she's going to ask you. Look through them to prepare for your answers, and if you need help, just ask." He ruffled Zuko's hair as he stood up and left.

Zuko blinked, and opened the folder. He read a few of the questions, and groaned. At Dick's questioning look, he said, "Half of these are way too personal, and I don't know what the other half of these mean! Current tv obsession? What lyrics from a song mean the most to you? Anakin Skywalker or Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"What about Anakin Skywalker?" Duke piped up, sticking his head in the room. "I don't know what we're talking about, but if it involves Anakin, I want in it."

"Lois sent over the interview questions for Zuke," Dick explained, ignoring Zuko's protests against the nickname, "And some of them involve pop culture." Duke looked at the paper over Zuko's shoulder.

"I can help with these," he offered, "After that month mission in San Fran, I'm taking a week break. I can educate you on the icon that is Anakin Skywalker and all the other stuff."

"Okay, thanks," Zuko replied. Duke grinned.

"Now come on, we're binge-watching all the seasons of Clone Wars."

-_

Zuko and Duke were inseparable for the next week, constantly talking about the interview. Duke was telling him all about Star Wars, showing him his Spotify playlist, going to the Gotham Fashion Show, and trying new foods, to name a few.

"You're taking my sparring partner, Thomas," Damian had snapped on the third day.

"Sorry, man, Zu and I have stuff to do!" Duke had replied as he dragged Zuko to the garage by his hand, not looking very sorry at all. Duke had taken to calling him 'Zu' and if he was being truthful with himself, Zuko didn't mind it. They'd become very close.

It was the day of the interview. Zuko was nervous as he and Duke ran over his answers again.

"And remember, if you forget one, just say what you think," he was saying as Bruce straightened his tie. Bruce nodded in agreement.

"And I'll be right behind the camera," the man added, "If you get overwhelmed, tap your leg three times, and I'll interrupt you so you can get a break. Zuko nodded.

"Thank you," he breathed. Bruce and Duke smiled at him.

"Zuko," a woman with long black hair in a white blouse got Zuko's attention, "We're ready."

Zuko took a deep breath as he walked over, sitting on the couch they'd brought into the room for him and Lois to sit on. A broad man with black hair and glasses was behind the camera- Superman, Zuko remembered -smiled encouragingly at him. Usually, Bruce had told him, a man named Jimmy was Lois' partner, but Bruce had requested Clark just in case Zuko had accidentally revealed something incriminating.

"Okay, Clark," Lois said, making a motion with her fingers, "Let's do this." A red light blinked on the camera, and Lois turned to Zuko with a smile. "So! Zuko!" she grinned, "It's nice to meet you! How are you feeling?"

Just say what you're thinking, Duke's voice reverberated in his head. Zuko's voice didn't tremble when he finally spoke, "I haven't felt anything in years."

Lois blinked. "Oh? Did you have a rough life before you met Bruce?"

"Something like that." Lois smiled sadly. She knew the truth, as Clark had told her.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, before clearing her throat. "So! The Gazette put together the 'twenty-one questions' questionnaire for you to go over! Does that sound good?"

The interview was a blur. He remembered telling her that he liked Anakin more than Obi-Wan and that his favorite song was Choke by I DON'T HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME. He told her that his favorite part of living with Bruce was Alfred's tea because it reminded him of how his uncle would make it.

"Thank you for your time, Zuko," Lois smoothed her skirt in her lap as she smiled warmly, "It's been lovely to meet you."

"And we're good!" Clark said from behind the camera, giving the two a thumbs up. "You did great, Zuko!"

"Thanks," Zuko replied, releasing a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

"Hey, dad!" a boy around Damian's age in a Superman hoodie with black hair and blue eyes flew down the stairs until he right in front of Clark. "Can I spend the night?"

Clark looked at Bruce. "If it's okay with Bruce, sure. As long as you're back tomorrow by noon."

"It's fine with me," Bruce agreed. Jon grinned.

"Yes! Damian, it's a go!" he threw his arms around Clark. "Thanks, Dad!" he turned to Zuko and held out his hand for him to shake. "Hi!" he chirped, "I'm Jon, Damian's best friend! It's nice to meet you!"

"Uh, nice to meet you, too," said Zuko, taking the Kryptonian's hand. Jon's eyes lit up.

"Do you like smores?" he asked. Zuko's eyebrows furrowed.

"What's that?"

"Jon," Bruce said sternly, "You and Damian are not starting a fire in this house. Not after last time." Jon’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

"But Mr. Wayne-"

"Jon," Clark cut him off with a look, "Bruce said no."

Jon sighed. "Aw, fine. But come on, Zuko, let's go!" he picked Zuko off of the ground with startling strength and carried him to Damian's room.

"Don't carry me!" Zuko snapped, shoving the boy off of him and dusting off his clothes. Jon laughed.

"Wow, Damian! He's just like you!"

Damian scoffed from where he was sketching on his bed. "Don't be absurd, Jonathan." Jon raised an eyebrow.

"Let's see; grumpy, not liking being carried at first," he was counting on his fingers, "Trauma, a little scary, black hair, little to no social skills-"

"Hey!" Zuko and Damian interrupted simultaneously. Jon laughed.

"I'm just saying! Anyways, Bruce said we couldn't start a fire for smores."

Damian groaned. "That is so unfair! The chandelier incident was not our fault!"

Zuko blinked. "That... what incident?" Damian waved him off.

"Never you mind. Father is just being unreasonable." he paused. "Jonathan, what exactly did he say?"

Jon cleared his throat before lowering his voice several octaves in an impression of Bruce. "You and Damian are not starting a fire in this house." Damian smirked.

"So we cannot start a fire, but he said nothing about Zuko, the firebender!" he turned to Zuko, "We will go get the supplies. You stay up here. We'll use these to communicate." he tossed an earpiece into his hand. Zuko frowned.

"We need an earpiece just so we can get food?"

Damian gave him a disbelieving look. "Zuko, at this moment there is a Kryptonian, my father, Drake, Thomas, and Lane in this house. We have to cover all of our bases."

Zuko rolled his eyes but put the device in his ear anyway. Damian did the same. Jon was staring at the door, using his x-ray vision to see if anyone was coming. He didn't need an earpiece due to his superhearing.

"Alright, I will go get the marshmallows and graham crackers, and Jonathan, you go get the chocolate from Drake's room," Damian commanded in his voice typically only used for missions. "Zuko, you stay here, and do not let anybody know our plans."

Jon and Zuko nodded, the Kryptonian's serious and the firebender's condescending. Damian gestures to the door. "Let's be off, Jonathan." the two left the room, leaving Zuko standing.

Zuko looked around Damian's room. The walls were bare aside from two swords mounted above his bed and a framed picture of all of his bets above his television. Zuko was accepting the fact that he would be bored whenever there was a knock on the door.

Clark walked in, looking for Jon, but frowned when he didn't see his son. "Where are Jon and Damian?" he asked.

"Play. Dumb," Damian hissed in the earpiece. Zuko put on a confused expression.

"Who's Damian?"

"Not that dumb!"

Clark rolled his eyes fondly, clearly not believing him, but not wanting to push him. "Whatever. Tell Jon I said I love him."

Zuko nodded. "Will do, sir!" he said. Clark nodded, and left.

Jon was back in the room shortly after with a box of chocolate under his arm. "Golly," he gasped, "Tim's room is booby-trapped to the extreme! I barely made it without tripping any of them!"

"That is because you are an imbecile," Damian said from the doorway with a box of crackers in one hand and a bag of marshmallows in the other. He looked at Zuko with a deadpan expression. "You have much to learn when it comes to lying."

"He believed me, didn't he?" Zuko countered, crossing his arms over his chest. Damian rolled his eyes.

"No, he did not, he just heard a distress call from Metropolis and he did not have time to wait," he replied matter-of-factly. Jon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I didn't hear a distress call."

"That is because you were too busy trying not to get trapped in one of Drake's childish snares."

"Why does his room have those, anyway?" Zuko asked.

"Because he is worried somebody will come in and steal his things," Damian explained, "as he thinks that anybody with time on their hands would care enough to snoop through his stash of Penthouse magazines."

"What's that?" Zuko and Jon said at the same time.

"Pornography," Damian replied, opening the bag of marshmallows and pulling one out. He put it in between two of the graham crackers, and grabbed a square of chocolate to add. He looked at Zuko expectantly as he impaled it with one of the swords on the wall.

"Light a fire, Zuko," Jon explained, doing the same thing as Damian. Zuko obliged, a fire igniting above his palm. Damian and Jon put their smores in the flames, letting them toast. After a minute, Damian pulled his out. He handed the sword to Zuko.

"Here, eat." It was more of a demand than an offer, but Zuko didn't argue. He took the smore from the tip of the blade and took a bite. His eyes widened.

"This is amazing!" he praised, taking another bite. Jon smiled brightly.

"Right? They're the best!"

"They are a delectable treat," Damian agreed, taking the sword back from Zuko to make himself one. "Even if they are for children."

"Don't forget forbidden."

The three jumped at the voice, the flame fizzling out from Zuko's hand as he saw Bruce standing in the doorway with a frown on his face. "I thought I told you all that you could not start a fire!"

"On the contrary, Father," Damian contradicted, "You said that Jon and I could not start a fire. You said nothing about Zuko."

Bruce narrowed his icy blue eyes. "You're a smart boy, Damian, you knew what I meant. No patrol tomorrow!" Damian's eyes flew open.

"But Father-" he protested, but Bruce cut him off.

"No, Damian, you disobeyed me. And you, Zuko," he turned to the firebender, "No going to John Mulaney's show with Duke tomorrow."

Zuko's jaw dropped. "But-"

"And you, Jon," the Bat ignored him, setting his eyes on Jon. "I will be informing your mother of this." Jon paled.

"No," he whispered, "Not that. Anything but that."

"Yes," Bruce said sternly. "Now, I have work to do." Before he could walk out, Zuko's voice stopped him.

"That's it? Aren't you going to hit us or something?" he asked, confused. That's what fathers did whenever their children misbehaved, after all. They disciplined them.

Although it was impossible to tell, Bruce's heart cracked at his son's bewildered face. "No, Zuko," he answered, his voice much gentler now, "No. A father should never hit his children."

After Bruce left, Damian groaned, throwing his arms into the air. "This is ridiculous!" he seethed, "No patrol? For making smores?"

"My mom's gonna be so mad," Jon whimpered, closing his eyes as though that would erase the image of Lois' disappointed smile out of his head.

Zuko, though, was silent. Bruce's words were running through his mind. A father should never hit his children.

_

Zuko awoke the next morning to texts from the group chat.

Frowning, Zuko opened his twitter as he stood up, stretching. His eyebrows furrowed as he read.

"What the heck?" he muttered as he texted the group chat a response.

"Well," he said aloud as he put on a shirt and prepared to go downstairs for breakfast, "Alrighty then." As he made his way to the kitchen, the voices of the other boys reached his ears.

"If we were in a band, I would be the lead singer!"

"No you wouldn't, you can't sing!"

"What the hell do you know, Drake, you have barbecue sauce on your toast-"

"Damian don't fucking swear-"

"Jason! Stop teaching him those words!"

"How I eat my toast isn't relevant to the fact that Dick can't sing-"

They stopped arguing as Zuko entered the room, sitting into the seat next to Tim and rubbing his eyes. Seeing Tim dipping his toast in barbecue sauce, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and got up from his seat and moved to the one beside Duke.

Tim didn't seem phased. He pointed his toast at Zuko. "You went on a midnight drive with Dick, right? Was he a good singer?"

"No," Zuko replied bluntly, meeting Dick's pleading look. The acrobat scowled.

"That is false! False! I am a great singer!" he huffed, "Just ask Superman!"

Jason laughed. "Dude, Clark was lying! He's too nice to tell you the truth! You royally suck."

Bruce was sitting at the head of the table reading the newspaper, sipping his coffee as he tuned out his children's argument. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"The gala's tonight," he said, "And I want everyone on their best behavior."

The gala was for Zuko. An event to celebrate the Waynes bringing in another child.

Zuko was not excited about it.

The day was spent with preparations. Getting the ballroom ready, running over what to say when Gretchen Milliana made you comfortable, and ballroom dancing.

Zuko was not very good at the last one.

"Okay, so, you might need more professional help," Dick admitted after the second hour had passed. "Never fear! We'll get Cass."

Cassandra Cain, the only female Wayne, was in the dance studio. Zuko had only met her a few times.

"Hey, Cass!" Dick greeted as they entered the room where a girl of Asian descent was practicing ballet. "Any chance you can help Zuko get the waltz down before tonight?"

"Sure," Cass replied, stilling her motions. "Come here, Zuko." She placed his right hand on her waist and put her own on his shoulder, interlocking their other hands. "Like this."

She began leading him in the dance, but within two steps, Zuko stepped on her feet. "I'm sorry," he muttered. Cass shrugged.

"It is alright," she paused, "Think of it as if you were in combat. As though you're learning a new fighting technique."

That worked.

After ten minutes, Zuko was starting to get the hang of it. Cass was a good teacher. And surprisingly, Zuko found himself having fun.

The two danced around the room to a Beethoven song. Zuko had a smile, a real smile on his face. He liked it. It was peaceful. It was graceful. It was fun.

"Very good!" Cass praised, "You're a natural!"

Zuko laughed nervously before asking his question. "Do you think... do you think you could show me ballet sometime?" he asked, his face red. Cass smiled.

"Of course! You're a great dancing partner!"

_

Eight hours later, Zuko was in a suit. He pulled at the collar nervously. Duke saw this, and stepped in front of him to straighten his tie.

"No worries, dude," he said, "It isn't that bad. Besides, aren't you a prince? You've probably been to a ton of these things."

Zuko shrugged half-heartedly. "Yeah, but it's different."

"Then don't make it different," Duke replied, "Just put on your Prince Zuko face and pretend like you know what you're doing even if you don't. Fake it till you make it."

Zuko did just that. He put on his Prince Zuko face and acted.

He stood by Dick most of the time, his older brother doing most of the talking for him. But, as all good things must come to an end, Gretchen Milliana asked him to dance.

"You're a good dancer!" the forty-year-old woman purred, "Who taught you?"

"Cassandra," Zuko replied simply. "She's a good teacher."

"She must be," Gretchen smirked. The conversation continued, Gretchen flirting with the sixteen-year-old until he was red in the face. Finally, the song ended, and he said a polite good-bye and went back to find Dick.

"How was it?" Dick asked.

"Take a guess," Zuko grunted. Dick sucked in his teeth.

"Yeah, she's something else. Very yucky." Zuko raised an eyebrow at the word choice.

"Yucky? How old are you?" he taunted. Dick rolled his eyes.

"Twenty-three, which makes me your elder and therefore deserving of respect." He showed Zuko his phone. "Look at my post!"

Zuko looked up at Dick. "Where'd you get that picture?"

"The paparazzi work fast, my guy.”

_

After the gala, Zuko was making his way to his room, when Tim stopped him.

"Come on, I have a favor to ask!" he said, leading him into the Cave where a girl with blonde hair and star earrings was waiting at the computer.

"Zuko, this is Cassie Sandsmark, also known as Wonder Girl," he introduced. Cassie shook his hand.

"Nice to meet ya, Zuko!" she greeted.

"You too," said Zuko, before turning to his brother. "What do you need?"

"So, my team and I have been tracking a magyntite dealer for months," Tim began, sitting on the chair in front of the computer. "Magyntite is a chemical that, when coated over something, makes its durability increase ten-fold. Like, if you made this stuff into a suit, even a punch from Superman wouldn't hurt you."

"It's from the planet Tatooine," Cassie added, "No relation to the Star Wars planet, though. Total coincidence."

"We tracked the dealer to Gotham, and he's having an auction at one of Falcone's clubs. They're calling it 'Masked Magicians Monday,'" Tim said, cracking his knuckles.

Zuko interrupted him. "What does this have to do with me?"

"We need to infiltrate it," Tim explained,  "and we need your help to do it, Zuko. You and Cassie are going to pretend to be a magician couple."

"No offense, Zuko," said Cassie with a glance at him before looking at Tim with a raised eyebrow, "But why isn't Bart or Kon doing this?"

"Because they don't have experience acting as a fancy socialite. Zuko does, being a prince as well as being apart of a gala."

"I don't have experience either!"

"I know but like, you're the only girl." Tim rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly at her glare.

Cassie sighed. "Alright, what's game plan?"

"You and Zuko go to the party in Carnevale masks- I got one big enough to cover your scar-" he added as Zuko opened his mouth, "And when it's time to bid on the magyntite, you get it. I've got $50,000,000 in cash."

"Sounds easy enough," Zuko said. Cassie nodded in agreement.

Tim sucked in his teeth. "Yeah, this is where it gets weird though. Whoever the dealer is is bonkers. Really weird rules. You have to have a date to get in, and you have to be in a relationship with the person. And you have to be convincing. Like if they suspect you're faking, you'll get kicked out."

"That sounds fake," Zuko grunted.

"That's what I thought, too, but it isn't," Tim argued, "This dude only wants couples. Maybe it's a sex thing?"

Cassie scrunched her nose in disgust. "Whoever this guy is, he sounds like a creep. Why does he care?"

"Who knows?" Tim shrugged, "And another rule is that you have to show that you can do magic- real magic, not that children show magic -at the door. I figured Zuko would light a fire in his hand."

"Does he have to say a spell?" asked Cassie.

"Yeah, just come up with something," Tim said to Zuko. "Also, for obvious reasons, you guys need to think of fake names. I have your ids all set up, but I was gonna let you pick your names so it's easier to remember."

Cassie turned to Zuko, putting her hand on her chin and scrunching her face up in an exaggerated thoughtful expression. She furrowed her eyebrows. "You," she pointed her finger at Zuko, "Look like a Dylan."

"Dylan?" Zuko echoed with a frown. "I don't like it. That doesn't sound regal enough."

"Oh, you want a regal name, Your Majesty?" Cassie bowed dramatically before flashing him a grin. "Okay! What about Henry?"

"Henry is... acceptable," Zuko replied, rolling the name around in his head. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, his mouth agape.

"Tell me you didn't pick Henry because Timothée Chalamet played Henry V in that movie."

"That's completely the reason and I'm not even remotely sorry about it," Cassie huffed, placing her hands on her hips dramatically. "I've said it before and I'll say it again; if I don't marry Timothée Chalamet, my life has been a waste." Tim stared at her as if she'd grown another head.

"You've saved eleven people from dying this week alone."

"A waste, Tim. A waste." The corners of her mouth turned up as she looked at Zuko. "Your turn, fake boyfriend, pick a name for me."

Zuko sized her up, thinking, but the only name that came to his mind was 'ty-lee' and he certainly couldn't give her the name of his sister's best friend.

Cassie shifted her weight from one leg to the other impatiently. Zuko's eyes zipped around the room and landed on an empty starbucks cup. "Uh, what about Larissa?" he finally said

"Larissa," Cassie hummed, "I like it!"

Tim gave Zuko a strange look as if to say why did you give her the name of our favorite starbucks barista?

Zuko gave him an anxious look in return as if to say I don't know I panicked.

"So what about last name?" Cassie asked, seemingly oblivious to the silent exchange. "Are we married or what?"

"No," Tim answered, "You're engaged."

"Ooh, that means a fancy ring! Score!" Cassie cheered. She gave Zuko a friendly nudge. "And you'll get one too! Though you're probably used to fancy things, being a prince and then being a Wayne and all."

Zuko shrugged. "I'm not really a jewelry person."

"Well too bad, fiancé of mine," Cassie wrapped her arm around Zuko's waist and gave him a playful side hug, "You are now! Come on, we should get ice cream or some thing else so we can get used to each other so the chemistry seems real and all."

Zuko sent Tim a glance over his shoulder as Cassie grabbed his hand to pull him to the motorcycles. She handed Zuko a helmet and revved up the engine. "My mom doesn't know I have this, so keep it a secret."

"Your secret's safe with me."

Cassie was a bad driver.

Zuko didn't get scared often, but riding with Cassie on a motorcycle? A terrifying experience.

"I can see why your mom doesn't want you to have one of these," Zuko gasped as he hopped off the motorcycle, putting a hand over his chest. "You're a terrible driver."

"No, I'm not!"

"We almost died!"

"But we didn't!" Cassie countered. She walked ahead of him towards the building. "Anyways, let's go eat ice cream! Your treat, since you're rich and all."

"This ice cream better be good, or else," Zuko grumbled. Cassie laughed.

"What are you gonna do, break off our engagement?" Cassie had a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke. "Whatever shall I do?"

Zuko rolled his eyes and led her to a table. Their waiter arrived shortly, holding a notepad and pen. "What can I get you two?"

Before Zuko could say anything, Cassie interrupted him. "Vanilla milkshake please, two straws," she said sweetly. The waiter chuckled, his eyes flicking between the two of them, and walked to the back.

Zuko gave her a look. "Two straws?" Cassie shrugged.

"Hey man, the event's tomorrow night and no offense but being romantic doesn't seem to be your forté. We're gonna have to do a ton of couple stuff so you get used to it."

"I can be romantic!" Zuko protested, "I've had a girlfriend before!"

"Oh yeah? How old were you?"

"Thirteen!"

Cassie laughed. "In my book, any relationship thirteen and younger doesn't count."

"Well, we must be different then," Zuko grumbled, crossing his arms.

Cassie's eyes softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't."

Cassie clearly didn't believe him, but she didn't press it. "So! What do you like to do for fun?"

"I don't do fun," Zuko replied, looking out the window. Cassie rolled her eyes.

"Oh wow, you are so Bruce's kid. But seriously, Zuko, everybody has something they do for fun! You have to have an idea."

"I mean..." he wracked his brain for an answer, and remembered Cass. "Turns out I like dancing. It was outlawed in the Fire Nation, so I'd never danced before. My sister Cass was teaching me how to ballroom dance and I actually really liked it. We're gonna start doing ballet together." His face turned red as he realized what he'd just admitted. A boy? Doing ballet? His father would have scoffed at him, calling him pathetic.

Cassie shocked him by giving him a warm smile. "I love that! Cass is the best ballet dancer I've ever seen, you're super lucky to have her!"

Zuko looked down. "I'm not lucky," he said darkly, "It's like my father always said; my sister was born lucky, while I was lucky to be born."

Cassie scowled. "Well, that's awful to say! I think you're very lucky! I mean, hey," she leaned back in the booth, putting her hands behind her head and smiling, "You get to fake-date me! The great Cassandra Sandsmark!"

Zuko snorted a laugh, which made Cassie's grin widen.

"Score! I made you smile! We'll be a believable couple in no time."

The ice cream arrived, and Cassie put the two straws in. Telling him to 'drink up,' Zuko took a zip.

"This is really great," he said. Cassie grinned.

"Ice cream's so good, man, I'm glad you like it."

"I'm exhausted," Zuko complained, leaning back. He was still in his suit from the gala.

Cassie waved. "Hi, Exhausted, I'm Cassie!"

Zuko gave her a weird look.

Cassie frowned. "You know? You said you were exhausted so I said 'hi, exhausted?' It was a joke."

"It was a bad one."

She scoffed. "As if you can do better!"

"I have plenty of jokes!" Zuko argued.

"Oh yeah? Tell one!"

All Zuko could remember was half of the joke Iroh had told him the night before he's arrived in Gotham. "My uncle used to tell me this one all the time. I don't remember all of it, but the punchline was 'leaf me alone, I'm bushed!'"

Cassie sucked in her teeth. "Tt. You know, a joke is only funny if you tell the entire thing."

"Okay, Damian," Zuko retorted, referring to her use of the sound Damian constantly vocalized.

"Speaking of Damian, what's it like living with him?" she rested her elbows on the table. "Tim says he's a nightmare, but surely he's got his moments, right?"

Zuko didn't respond for a moment, his mind wandering to a few days prior, whenever Damian had invited him up to his room to paint the sunset with him.

The two were silent, nothing but the sound of paintbrushes gliding along canvases filling the air.

"The League of Assassins told me many things." Damian's voice broke the silence, not looking up from his canvas. "They told me that they were great, that they- that we were only killing because we had to. That we were doing good work. That we were going to make the world a better place, start a new, good world order, and that I would lead it."

"I know what you're trying to do," said Zuko shortly, not looking up from his painting.

"I am simply relaying facts to you," Damian denied, "Anyways, I believed that I was doing good. The murder, the cruelty- it was all for the greater good. But... but it wasn't. It wasn't good. Murder is murder. We were using murder as a way to gain power, to gain control over everything. Not to make a good world. They didn't care if the new world is good, as long as they got to rule it." His eyes flicked to Zuko briefly, before returning to his painting. "It took me a long time to realize that. That I was being used. I was a pawn. They didn't love me, I was a weapon. A tool. Something they could use to get what they wanted."

Zuko didn't reply. Surely his father wanted to love him. After all, he was giving him a chance to regain his love. He only had to capture the Avatar. And the Fire Nation was the greatest of all. They were doing good, helping the world.

And yet, the more he thought about it, the more Zuko realized that he couldn't find any instance of the Fire Nation doing something that would directly benefit the Air Nomads, Earth Kingdom, or the Water Tribes. The more he thought about it, the more he noticed the similarities between the Fire Nation and the League of Assassins.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how different Bruce Wayne was from Fire Lord Ozai. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how different his relationships with Tim, Duke, Damian, Dick, Jason, and Cass are from his relationship with Azula. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much safer he felt at the Manor than he ever felt at the Palace.

And the more he thought about it, the more the hand holding his paintbrush shook.

1. (5+1 hurt comfort wip)

Instead of waking to the oddly tranquil sounds of the EKG, mapping his primaries and secondaries- Jason woke to the sound of arguing.    Not even normal arguing- no.  

  It was Cass Cain-Wayne Brucie’s little fucking princess who can do no wrong and The Big Bat himself arguing. And given the previous day’s events their topic of argument was obvious- it was about him, and his decision to use what could have been lethal force as his last resort to protect Damian and Collin. The two kids had gone off adventuring on there own and decided to pick a fight with Flamingo, one of the ‘do not engage of “do not engage”s’ whom Jason had been tracking and was attempting to apprehend when the boys showed up. Their loud entry, (Damian’s) cry of Todd!, had distracted him just enough for a split second that Flamingo had gotten the drop on him.

A few well placed shots from the mad man’s automatic side arm and he had gone down. Hard. Flamingo then stabbed him and kicked his body away taking out his knife to presumably skin Jason only before he could make it a more than a few steps Damian -in a stupidly dangerous rare showing of comradely- had launched himself at the hit-man, stabbing him in the arm, Colin following soon after with a punch that didn’t even daze Flamingo who threw Damian against the wall and stabbed Colin in the gut. Then Damian was back up and parrying blows back and forth with the hit-man. And the little brother- Jason’s pup -Started to loose. Jason could barely move. Couldn’t feel anything more than pain and desperation. Definitely couldn’t continue fighting Flamingo. So he lifted his pistol- the one carrying actual bullets. Took aim. And Fired. Then he had blacked out- presumably from blood loss. And now he was here. In the caves damp med bay, waking up to the sound of Batman and Black Bat arguing and-

“Jay?” Jason tried to open his eyes and moaned. “Hey guys I think he is waking up!” The voice- Dick he realized had decided to yell for some reason. “Dick,” And Dick threw his arms around him and Jason’s flinch of pain at the added pressure seemed to go unnoticed by the Beta.“Jason! Your okay!” No- Jason was the opposite of okay. “I might not be if you keep yelling and squishing me.” Just as Dick pulled away looking sheepish, and opened his mouth the most likely apologize another small warm body came barrelling in and tucked itself deftly into Jason’s side- nuzzling Jason’s neck.

2. Inspiration from GoddessOfRoyalty's post here

Jason knew it was the pit. Knew it was the new robin (Timothy his slowly detoxing mind reminded him very quietly, his name is Timothy) watching him. But Bruce being in near tears when he saw him and reaching out to carress his face like he was made of glass before pulling him against his chest made him bitter and angry. Enraged at how easily he just melted into Bruce and felt the pack bond sparking letting the pack members feel him. Letting them- Bruce, Alfred, Dick, loosely Barbara, and others he didn’t know- in. Let them be taken aback at the flood of unease, bitterness, and rage.

    He let it happen. He let himself “open up”  even though the probing in his mind that Jason could suppose was meant to be a soothing gesture felt like acid pouring down his skin, and the pit left over inside him was on fire and freezing at the same time from the contact.

    Jason had come here because he needed somewhere safe from the league. Needed somewhere he could have and possibly raise his baby away from Talia and her Batman-centric obsession. So Talia never finds out.

    So he let it happen.

    He let them in. 

Eventually Bruce had finished his half examination half blubbering in disbelief (because truly for Bruce Wayne  not Brucie, not Batman, not Matches-freakin-malone, but Bruce showing this much emotion (especially in regard to Jason, the infamous fuck-up robin) was utterly unprecedented) so with a pointed glance to Timothy- who looked like he would attempt to approach Jason, something he aborted when prompted to- Bruce and the  new robin left him standing stiffly and alone with Alfred. An inherently good thing, as Alfred was easily the best member of the Bat Clan.

    “Come along, are you okay with staying in your old room Master Jason?” Alfred looked over him, inquisitively searching for some tell that would say otherwise and simultaneously looking straight ahead as he waited for Jason to speak.

    “Yeah Alfie” And the way Alfred primly turned around and ed Jason away without a word- up the stairs and to Jason’s childhood room, where the halcyon days of his adolescence had been spent. Alfred opened the door and it became obvious that in an odd and mildly creepy way nothing had changed. Not even the cleanliness. It was as if  Alfred had merely dusted and changed the sheets but other than that nothing had been rearranged. The textbook on his desk was even still open to the same page.  His pens and pencils still in their chaotic state- waiting for a teenager who was dead to the world to pick them up and use them again. Once Alfred had led him inside and was about to leave, the old Beta turned to him- a calming scent leaking from his body.

“Master Jason,” Alfred clasped both of his hands in his holding them tentatively but firmly in between them. This time it was Jason- surprising even himself- who surged forward and embraced the other. To his unexpected yet unbridled delight he was met equivalently. And Alfred still smelled as good and soothing as he always had. Still a balm on Jason’s soul.