#impulse oneshot

Companion #3

(Bart Allen)

[Art is not mine! Credit to onipilot]

Requested by: Feketealkony16

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 4,041

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Torture

Blood

———————————————————————

     It's been about a month since Bart and I started dating. It's been really nice. I like him a lot. I like waking up next to him, I like playing with his hair, and I really like our kisses. We have also been talking to Canary together which makes it easier to tell him things and has helped me not be so scared of him touching me.

     Another new thing has been us going on runs. My companion has a lot of energy and a lot of stamina which means he can be a handful when he isn't active enough. We talked it over with Canary last week and she recommended to find something we could do together. Something that could be altered so Bart could burn through his energy before bed. We ended up settling on nightly runs. I can work on my cardio and stamina and Bart can run circles to use up his energy.

     Like every night recently, we're on our nightly run. Bart is zooming around town, stopping for a beat when he passes to check up on me. He paces next to me, throwing up two thumbs up. I nod and he zooms away again. I'm not okay, my lungs are screaming, and I want to stop, but there were no missions today, so my companion has extra energy, which means this needs to be an extra-long run or else I won't get any sleep.

     It's hard to keep up with my breathing so I stop for a moment. I hunch over, hands on my knees, as I heave for air. The chilled oxygen burns my lungs, but it's nice to not have such labored breaths. I go to stand up straight again, but before I can there's a sharp pain in my side.

     "What the-" I turn to my right, where the pain is, and I'm meet with Luther's face. No... no, no, no, no, no.

     "Experiment 203," he says, tugging the knife from my side. The blade of the knife is green, the same shining green as the rock that haunts my nightmares. I stay frozen, unable to run or fight or scream. Within seconds the world goes black, the only thing I can feel is my body making contact with the pavement.

————————————

     A light shines behind my closed eyes, slowly pulling me out of my sleep. I flutter my eyes, giving them a chance to adjust to the light. Where am I? Where's Bart? Why is it so cold? Luther! I snap my eyes open, my most recent memories flooding my mind. Luther, the knife, the concert. 

     I scan my surroundings. Glass separates me from the room. It's the dark, cold, red room. The room of my nightmares. The room I spent most of my life in. I slam my fists against the glass, my voice tearing from my throat as I yell. "Let me out! Let me out right now! I know you can hear me, Luther! Let me go!" Unsurprisingly, the glass doesn't break despite my strength. It never did before, it's not going to now. Despite that, I continue banging on the glass, trying to make it crack.

     "Experiment 203," Luther's voice comes through the speakers in the room. This isn't real. It can't be real. I'm just having a nightmare. Any minute now I'll wake up with Bart wrapped around me in bed. "Welcome back to Cadmus. You've been missed."

     Lair. Dumb, mean, abusive, lair. "Let me out!" I scream again, the feeling of blood trickling down my hands from the continued contact with the pod.

     "No can do, 203. We have more tests I need to run. Plus, now I have to restart everything. I can't have you acting like Project Kr." 

     "My name is Y/N! And my brother's name is Conner! Y/N and Conner! Conner and Y/N! We are people; We have names!" The glass in front of me is stained with my blood, the stain only getting worse as it rolls down the front of my - the pod.

     The speakers stay silent, the voice being replaced with the sounds of fans turning. The pod is filled with gas, making it hard to stay awake, to stay fighting. My fists get slow, and my eyes get heavy as I breathe in the air. I can't pass out again. I can't be vulnerable. I can't let Luther get the upper hand. Even with my best efforts, the world starts going dark again. No, I can't live like this again. I can't go through all this again.

————————————

     The end of Luther's knife dugs into my bone again, the tip of it sliding against the hard material. "What's your name?"

     "Y/N." 

     The knife is pulled out before quickly being plunged back into me. This time, the tip of it digs between two bones. Luther tips the knife, forcing the bones apart slightly, causing new waves of pain to ripple through the numbing pain. Tears trickle from my eyes as I tug against my restraints, the rough edges of the kryptonite digging into my wrists and ankles again. Blood trickles from the new wound. I've grown used to this, grown used to the only warmth coming from my blood escaping from my injuries.

     I don't know how long I've been here. How long I've been running tests so long that I can't even stand by the end of it. How long Luther has been tearing my flesh apart piece by piece.

     "What... is... your... name?" He asks again, removing the pain for a second before plunging the knife back into the same place, over and over again.

     I need it to stop. I need him to let me go back to my pod. I need to sleep. I need a break from the pain. "Experiment 203."

     "Good Job!" Luther cheers, removing the knife from me and letting it clutter onto the medical table I've been tied to for hours. Or maybe days. Maybe even months. I can't tell anymore. 

     It's been terrible, it's been tiring, it's been the same it was before Project K- Conner saved me. The same exhaustion I can't wash away from the overuse of my abilities and the under-given chance to sleep. The same exhaustion from lack of food, lack of light, lack of anything except pod, tests, and pain.

     Occasionally anger bubbles in me. At first anger at Luther, and now anger at the league. Where are they? Why haven't they saved me? Do they not care? Does Bart not care? Has he already moved on? Cut his losses? Has he found a new companion? A new relationship? Is he someone else's boyfriend? Does he miss me? Does he think of me?

     "Are you thinking of your little speedster again?" Luther asks, his eyes as dark as ever as he pats at my wounds with a cloth. He says he doesn't like blood in my pod because it could ruin the wiring and 'we can't have a dysfunctional cage for you, can we?'.

     I stay silent, focusing on the lights above my head. They're bright and burn my eyes when I look into them, but I don't care. At least this is pain I can control. The only thing I can control.

     "He's not coming for you, and neither is Project Kr. Do you really think they'd risk getting captured to save you again? You're worthless to everyone but me. I'm the only one that sees any worth in you, the only one that cares. The league couldn't care less about-"

     "I know," I whisper, cutting Luther off as I blink my eyes, giving them a little rest from the light above. He's wrong... maybe. Probably... probably not. If he was wrong, why would I still be here? If he was wrong, why would I still be hurting? Bleeding? At least he cares, right? If he didn't care he wouldn't put so much effort, some much time into me. "Thank you," I murmur, pushing down a whimper as he dips the cloth into one of the newer wounds.

     "What a good pet," Luther says, moving closer so I can see his face. His eyes aren't dark anymore, they're almost sparking as he smiles at me. "Good, good pet," he adds, running his hands through my blood-soaked hair. At least I know Luther still cares.

———————————— 

     The metal infused with kryptonite wrapped around my neck and wrists clink around as I fall to my knees. In the past while Luther has been testing my jumps, he wants me to jump higher, he wants me to fall harder, make the Earth shake more. He thinks if I work on it enough my genes will unlock flight so I'm better than Project Kr - Conner. My brother's name is Conner.

     I stay curled up on the floor, my breathing sounding louder than it is as it echoes off the walls. "Luther?" I call after a pause of silence. Usually, he calls in, and tells me to do it again or that I failed or that I did good. Maybe I did really bad and that's why he's not talking. I probably did badly, I'm exhausted, all my limbs shaking from the constant use of my abilities. I did bad.

     The button for the speakers is pressed in the control unit, sending the familiar clicking sound throughout the room. "Y/N?" A voice calls, but it's not Luther's.

     This is a test, a new test. Luther has run this test a few times to 'see if I'm really fixed or if we need another lesson'. I passed it last time - it only took six tries - so I thought it would be done with. Hope used to flow through me when I would hear someone call it out, but that's been beaten out of me, beaten out of my head, my soul, my heart. I'm not being saved, Luther just pulled a doctor and had them call for me to see if I've learned my lesson. 

     "I'm Experiment 203," I answer, turning my head towards the control unit. It's a blackout screen, so Luther can see me, but I can't see him. I did good, I passed the test, and I will get chocolate before going back to my pod today. Maybe I'll get lucky and there will be almonds in it like last time. I hope so.

     Another click, but silence passes over the speakers. "Oh, Y/N," the voice finally says, it cracking as the person speaks.

     "I am Experiment 203. I am Luther's, I belong to him." Why are they still going? I passed the test; I said the right thing. I want my chocolate, my pod, my sleep. I am being good, so why won't Luther give me my reward? 

     I stay still, waiting for Luther's voice. The heavy door behind me opens, filling the room with screeching as it moves on its hinges. "Luther!" I call, trying to be cheery and smile despite my pain. He likes it when I'm cheery, he says it makes me look like a cute puppy dog. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the new, brighter light filling the room from the open doorway. When they do focus, it's very much not Luther standing in it. 

     Standing in front of me is someone short, someone skinner than Luther. Where is Luther? Who is this? Is Luther, okay? Why is this person here? Why isn't Luther here? Did I fail? Is this my punishment?

     "Y/N?" They call taking a step into the room.

     "I am Experiment 203!" I try to yell, but it doesn't work out that way. I struggle to my feet, moving as far back as my restraints will let me. Kryptonite digs into my skin as I pull against my restraints, the edges reopening old wounds and causing fresh blood to start coating my skin. My trembling now is a mix of exhaustion and fear.

     The person takes another step forward, the ends of their hair almost glowing from the light behind them. "Y/N?" They repeat, my vision is filled with the green eyes from my dreams. "Are... you're... oh my god," Bart mutters, quickly walking up to me. His hands hover over me as he moves them around, his mouth falling open and shut as he panics.

     "I am Experiment 203," I repeat, trying - but failing - to pull back more.

     "No, your... your name is Y/N," he says, his hands settling on the restraints around my wrists. His own hands vibrate for a while before my shocks drop off my wrists and land at my feet.

     Once again, I try to tug against my collar to get further away from him. This isn't real, this is a test, and I'm failing. I don't want to fail, I don't want to hurt, I want my chocolate. Bart steps closer, his hands moving up to my last restraint.

     "No! Go away!" I yell, shoving him away from me. From my overuse today, my strength isn't super good, and he only ends up on the other side of the room instead of through the wall like I meant. That's not good. I definitely failed this test. I'm not getting my chocolate.

     "Bart!" Someone yells, quickly joining us in the test room. Just like last time, it's Birdman, in the same repulsive blue spandex suit. This dumb bird. He needs to go away. They all need to go away. I'm too tired to pass this test. It's not fair. "Y/N!" Birdman yells, standing up after checking on the speedster. 

     "Go! Away!" I yell again, trying to put more strength behind each word. 

     Birdman's face falls as he snaps open one of his pockets. "I'm so sorry," he says, pulling out a green shiny rock. I am so sick of kryptonite, I'm so sick of people, of men, of heroes, of life. "It'll get better," he says, pushing the rock against my head. The darkness I've grown used to envelopes my mind, making me grateful for the rest even though I'm furious with the world.

———————————— 

     Light peeks through my eyelids, pulling me from sleep like usual. Unlike usual, this light is a lot brighter than the small bulb in my pod. I take my time opening my eyes, eating up the last few seconds of sleep. Who knows the next time I get to sleep? The next time I get to rest. What do I have to do today? Where I'm even at. It's important to enjoy the peace when I have it, especially since I don't get a lot of it anymore. Plus, who knows where Luther has transported me to or what this new place has in store for me?

     When I finally open my eyes, I'm met with a pale yellow wall. It takes a second, but I realize I'm not in my pod. I'm in a bed, with blankets on top of me and pillows behind my head and back. What kind of test is this? What does Luther want me to do in this situation?

     I glance around the room, being met with different furniture. Luther must have really gotten into my head because this room is an exact couple of my old bedroom, from my old life, from when I was a hero and not Luther's pet, his weapon. Fear and anger start stirring in my chest as I take in the space. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I don't know why Luther is using this room, I don't know why I'm here.

     "Are you okay? Do you want me to go get Conner?" A voice says from next to me, causing my fear to overthrow my anger. I snap my head to the right, being met with an exhausted-looking Bart who's sprawled out in a lounge chair. Out of instinct, I try to tug myself away from him, but I get stopped by restraints around my wrist. "Oh shit, ya, sorry. You kept trying to fight us as we were giving you medical care, so Nightwing put restraints on," Bart says, leaning forward and snapping the restraints off my wrists before placing them on the nightstand. "Nightwing doesn't want them off until you get a psychological scan, but he can fuck off for all that I care."

     I stay silent, frozen in my spot. I am really confused. What is this test supposed to be about? Am I supposed to fight Bart? Is that what Luther wants?

     Bart settles back into his chair, his posture forgotten as he slumps, and his head propped up so he can look at me. His eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks still wet and his breath still hiccupping as he breathes. 

     "Why are you crying?" I ask, turning my attention away from him. My chest is tight, like it used to be when I would look at him; when he was real, when he wasn't just a dream or an illusion for Luther to use against me. This isn't real, Bart isn't real, this is a test. I need to figure out the answer.

     "A lot of reasons," he says, his eyes still burning into the side of my face. He isn't real, this is a test. Luther wants an answer, the correct answer. Focus. "For starters, you're finally safe. I can see you, hear your voice, finally touch you again," he says, leaning forward so most of him is propped up on the bed, next to my legs. I turn my attention back towards him, watching as his hands hover by my face. Is he going to hit me? Scratch me? Break my nose? "Can I touch you?" he asks, his eyes jumping around my face.

     "What?" I ask before I can stop myself. Of course, he can touch me, I don't get a say in it. I don't get a say in anything. People - especially Luther - get to do as they please. I either let them and get it over with, or I get a bigger punishment for trying to stop it.

     "Can I touch you?" He repeats, his hands still and his eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to push back the growing tears. "I don't... know if you remember, but I promised I would ask before I touched you."

     I do remember that, somewhat. "Oh," I whisper, looking away from him. I do not like this test. It's worse than any of the other ones I've done. I glance at him before focusing on the wall in front of me again. "I don't want to be touched."

     "Okay," he murmurs, dropping his hands to the bed, making sure not to come in contact with me. 

     I snap my head towards him, looking him over, waiting for the punishment for saying no, but nothing comes. Bart just sits there, looking at me, repeatedly blinking even though it doesn't stop the water from dripping down his face. "You're not going to punish me?" I ask slowly, confusion fogging my head. Why isn't he hitting me? Punishing me? Hurting me? I purposely failed the test and yet nothing is happening. How am I supposed to focus on my test if I'm not hurt? I need the pain to remind me this is fake.

     "Of course not. It's your body, if you don't want me touching it, I won't," he answers, leaning back in his chair with his face buried in his hands.

     I watch carefully as he rubs his face and pushes out a big sigh, a quiet scream squeezing out with it. "It's Luther's body," I mumble, scrunching up the bedding in my hands. Luther's body, Luther's pet, Experiment 203, that is who I am, what I am. I am a weapon, not a human.

     "It's your body, Y/N. It belongs to you, it is yours," Bart answers, his tone exhausted but firm. "You are a person, with basic human rights." I look back at the boy next to me, his arm resting across his face as he looks at the ceiling. Tears roll off his jaw, colliding with the chair under him. Why does he keep crying? He gets to see me, big deal, it's not like he cares... right? Maybe this isn't a test, maybe this is real.

     "Bart?" His name feels weird in my mouth after all this time. It feels bittersweet. It almost hurts saying it. 

     "Y/N?" He calls back, his arm dropping from his face and his head lifting to look at me.

     "Is this real or is it another test?" It's dumb to ask that. If it's a test I instantly fail and I'm going to have a long, painful night on that stupid table.

     "This is real," he answers softly, shifting in his chair. "Move over, please - if you want to! You don't have to."

     I look at him for a while, watching him watching me, before scooting over in the bed. Once I'm moved, Bart climbs into the bed next to me, making sure not to touch any part of my body as he settles in beside me. I settle on focusing on the wall again, letting my ears bounce around this place. There's a lot of talking, a lot of crying, throughout this place. Conner and Birdman are yelling at each other, about me, about my restraints. This is real. Bart is real. Everything is real. I settle on focusing on Bart's heart.

     "I don't remember your heart being so fast," I say, turning my attention to him for a second.

     "I'm just nervous," Bart murmurs, his gaze rolling over the room.

     "Why are you nervous?"

     He stays quiet for a while, gaze still running around before settling on me. "I'm nervous about what happened to... you... I'm nervous about how it's going to affect you now that you're back home, back safe, with me... I'm really nervous you don't love me anymore."

     "Do you not love me anymore?" I ask, blinking like Bart was earlier as I feel the tears forming in my eyes. Luther was right, my thoughts were right. Bart doesn't want me anymore. He did move on; he did forget about me. This is just him enforcing that. I was stupid to think for even a second that things were going to be okay, that someone other than Luther was going to care about me again.

     "Of course, I still love you!" Bart yells, causing me to jerk away in response. My eyes snap to him, making it more difficult to not cry. "You have been the only thing I could think of for the past two months. The only thing keeping me going. All my decisions, my actions, have been what I think would be best for you, what would be best to get you back. If I wasn't looking for you, I was curled up in your bed, thinking of you, clinging to your scent, your space, the only part of you I still had."

     Bart's face is scrunched up, eyebrows forward in anger, and hot tears rolling down his face again. He opens his mouth to say something else but ends up turning his head away from me. I sit still, waiting for him to turn back, as my own tears spill over. When he does, his face is relaxed, and his breathing is deep. "I'm... I am sorry for yelling. I am not mad at you, I am mad at the situation, which isn't your fault." Once again, he opens his mouth to say something but ends up closing it again. His jaw rolls for a while the almost silent clicking sound filling my ears. "I really love you and... I am mad that Luther hurt you, and I'm mad I lost you, and I'm mad I couldn't save you sooner. None of which is your fault."

     I let out a hum, turning my head forward, filling my vision with the pale yellow of my bedroom wall again. "I love you too," I whisper, sliding my hand on top of his. Instantly, Bart laces our fingers together. I am safe, I am loved, and this is real. Bart is real. I will be okay.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Companion #2

(Bart Allen)

[Art is not mine! Credit to battysketches]

Requested by: Feketealkony16

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 5,760

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

None

——————————————————————

My companion and I have been spending a lot of time together over the past couple of weeks. We have a nice routine that makes me calm. I like knowing what is going to happen, and with Bart, I always know when stuff is going to happen and how it's going to happen.

However, recently Bart has insisted on sleeping in my bed with me at night. I'm not sure why but he keeps asking me, so I finally said yes last night. It's weird waking up with him in my bed. I'm not sure what to do. Usually, I get up and shower before breakfast, and then Bart makes us pancakes. Am I supposed to do that today too?

I shift in bed so I'm sitting against the board in the front. Bart stirs a bit, rolling over so his head is buried between my thigh and the bedding. He stays still for a second before shifting again, his head staying in place but his arm resting against my hips. For whatever reason, Bart has started touching me a lot. He seems to like touching my hips, but again, I'm not sure why.

Usually, I don't like people other than Conner touching me. I do like Bart touching me too though. I like the little sparks that bounce off of him when he's excited. I did end up asking Artemis about the electric sparks and she said Wally does it too when he gets really happy. She also said that Wally doesn't know it's happening because he's used to electricity running threw him so it's hard for him to tell when it's being transferred to something or someone else. I'm pretty sure it's the same for my companion.

Once again, Bart shifts, this time he props himself up so I can see his face, but his arm stays put. When his eyes blink open, sparks start bouncing off of him and colliding against my hips. He is happy, good. "G'morning," He mumbles, a sleepy smile on his face as he looks up at me.

"Good morning," I say back, turning my head away from him. My chest always feels tight when Bart smiles at me. I asked Batgirl about it, and she said it sounds like I have a crush on Bart. I don't know what a crush is, but she explained it as me liking him. Of course, I like him, he's my companion. If I didn't like him, he wouldn't be my companion. Duh.

"Y/N," Bart whines, tightening his hold on me as he buries his head between my hip and his arm. "Look at me!" I obey, turning back to him. His head pokes out as he keeps it rested on us. His smile widens, the sleepiness draining from his face. "Good morning, Mamas."

That is new. I don't know if it's good new. It makes me tingle, but not the tingling I get from the electricity leaving Bart, it's a different tingle. "Good morning," I repeat, once again turning away from him. I think it's a good tingle. It makes me feel like I want my companion to touch me more.

As if he can read my mind, Bart wraps his other arm behind my back, tugging me some so more of himself is on top of my lap. His head is shifted to my other leg, his heart being pressed into my thigh as he lays across me. Recently, when I get overwhelmed - that's the new word Black Canary taught me last week; she says it explains me getting upset about the lights and my emotions - I've been listening to Bart's heartbeat instead of Conner's.

"Why won't you look at me?" He asks, his hands rubbing my hips as he cuddles himself up on my legs. He reminds me of a cat doing this. Sometimes Garfield will transfer into a cat and lay on me, so I'll pet him.

"You make my chest hurt when I look at you too long," I mumble, glancing down at him.

"Oh," He murmurs, his face scrunched up in confusion. "What do you mean it hurts?"

I scan around my room, trying to find anything other than him to look at. "I don't know... it just... feels tight sometimes."

"Oh," Bart repeats, his tone a lot happier this time. "My chest does that too. Usually when you laugh." Maybe Bart likes me too. I hope so or else I'd be a bad companion. Am I a bad companion to Bart? I hope not. I want to make him happy.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, his hands no longer rubbing my bones and instead gently pushing the hem of my pajama shirt up. A small sliver of my skin shows, which seems to be holding Bart's attention as he pushes his fingertips into it. I don't think I like that, but I do like the feeling of the sparks against a new part of my skin.

"I don't know what to do," I murmur, watching Bart as he watches his fingers roll over my skin. Maybe I do like it, and it's just making me nervous because it's new.

I don't like new things and there's a lot of them happening right now. Bart sleeping in my bed all night, Bart waking up in my bed this morning, and now Bart touching my bare stomach. He's slept in my bed before because we've taken naps together, but he usually spends the night in his bed. Since we've taken naps before, we've woken up in each other's beds, but our naps are usually only an hour or so and never after eight at night. He's also touched me in a lot of places: my arms, my thighs, my back, and even my stomach. The only bare skin he's ever touched is my hands, arms, and face though.

"What do you mean you don't know what to do?" He asks, pushing my shirt up a little more as his fingers slide over my sides, right above my hips. His eyes stay attached to his fingers as if it takes a lot of focusing to touch my skin. Maybe it does. I've only touched the same skin he's touched on me; well before today anyway. I don't see why it would take so much focus though.

"Well, usually I'm in the shower by now, but I'm not. I'm still in bed, with you touching me."

Bart's fingers stop moving, staying put on my side as he looks up at me. I make myself look down, focusing on his eyes as I try to breathe the tightness out of my chest. It's not the tightness I'm used to having around Bart. It's the tightness I would get after I knew I failed a test. "Do you not like me touching you?"

I think about it for a minute, like Canary has told me to do. She's told me just because I feel uneasy about something doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. It just means I'm worried about what is going to happen. "It makes me worry," I finally answer, looking away from Bart again. My breathing hasn't helped with my lungs.

"About what?" He asks, sliding soft circles into me. I can still feel his eyes on the side of my face, which doesn't help my thinking.

"Why you're touching me. If you want me to touch you. If you expect anything from me because you're touching me."

Bart stays silent, the only sounds filling my ears being his heart and lungs, along with the soft sound of our skin running against each other. "Well, I'm touching you because I like how you feel... That sounds creepy," he falls quiet again, spacing out a bit. "I'm touching you because it's how I show and how I feel that someone cares. I would like you to touch me back, but you never have to do anything you don't want to when I'm around. If you don't want to touch me, then don't, I won't be mad."

I roll his words over for a bit before looking down at him. "Where would you like me to touch you?" Hopefully, it's somewhere okay, like his hair. I really want to touch his hair.

"A few places. You can touch me wherever you're comfortable touching. I won't be mad no matter what you decide." Once again, I roll the words over in my head. Does he think that I think he's mad? I slowly move my hands to his head, letting them rest for a beat before I slide my hands through his locks. They're soft against my fingers, causing waves of calmness to start to sprout.

We sit like this for a while, Bart rolling circles into different parts of my stomach, and me playing with his hair. I start trying to braid it, like I've seen M'gann do to Cassie's hair, but Bart's hair isn't long enough to make a good braid.

After a bit, Bart shifts, sitting up in bed across from me. "I'm going to take a shower," he starts, tilting his head some as he looks over my face. "Do you want to take a shower with me?"

"No," I yap out, panic quickly eating away at the calmness that was previously present.

"Okay, you don't have to," he says softly as he slowly reaches his hand towards me. I stay still, petrified with fear despite his present smile that usually makes my chest tight, not fearful. His hand is gentle as he places it against my cheek, his thumb gently sliding against my skin. For whatever reason, this is another thing Bart likes to do.

"Please go away," the fear pushes out of me before I can stop it. I don't like this, I don't like him touching me, and I don't like Bart anymore. He's a scary companion. He's going to hurt me.

     Bart's smile drops a bit, but is still present, and still scary. "Okay," he says softly, dropping his touch from me before sliding off my bed. I stay put as I watch him walk into the bathroom.

Once the door is shut behind him, I shoot up from bed and make my way out of my room. I do not feel happy, I do not feel nice, I do not feel good. All of can think about is my pod and Luther and pain.

I need to find Birdman so he can call Canary. I need to talk to her. I do not like feeling scared, and I really don't like feeling scared of Bart. He's my companion, he's supposed to make me feel good, feel loved, feel safe, someone I'm supposed to trust. I do not feel any of that. I feel scared of him, scared of him seeing me. Why would he want to see me like that? Why would he want to take a shower with me? Does he want to hurt me? What test did I fail?

My mind is a fog, my breathing feeling labored, and my nervous shaking as I race into the living room. I can hear Conner trying to get my attention, but I ignore him. "Nightwing?" I call, walking up to the team leader who's tucked into a corner of the kitchen. I tug on the arm of his shirt, pulling his attention down to me with a soft hum. "We need to go on a walk."

————————————

Canary is sitting across from me, her body language open and her pen and pad ready to write down what I say. I open my mouth again to try and explain this morning but once again, nothing comes out. "Take your time, Y/N, the league knows I'm not on call, so we have all day to figure this out," her words are soft, like always.

I like Canary, she is nice, and patient, and helps me with all my thoughts and feelings. When I first started talking with her, she told me she used to and still does help Conner - and other heroes - with the same thing so it's okay that I ask for her help.

"Bart keeps asking to sleep in my bed at night," I finally push out, shifting my gaze around the room. Even though it feels nice to talk to her and I feel safe with Canary, it still feels overwhelming to talk about stuff sometimes.

"Yes, we talked about it at our last session, do you remember what you said about it?"

     I think about it for a moment, trying to remember. "I said that I don't know how I feel about it." Canary stays quiet, her eyes soft as she looks at me. "He asked again last night, and I said yes."

"Why did you say yes? Did you want to say yes, or did you say yes so he'd stop asking?"

I think about it for a moment, trying to relive the moment and the emotions I had during the discussion with Bart. "I felt... happy when he asked. I thought it would be nice. I like our naps so I figured it would just be a really long nap. That's why I said yes. I like it when I go to sleep next to Bart, it makes me feel... like I'm important to him. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it makes sense," Canary says, bringing some relief to me as she scribbles in her notes. "How was it? Before bed? When you were getting ready to sleep and when you laid down for the night?"

Once again, I think about it, trying to relive the memory. "I was already ready for bed when Bart showed up. We watched a movie - it was about some talking cars - and we sat next to each other, with Bart's arm around my hips. He keeps touching my hips. Why is he doing that?"

"I'm not hundred percent sure because I'm not Bart. Why do you think he does it?" I hate when she does this. When she makes it obvious she knows the answer but won't tell me what the answer is. It's supposed to 'encourage my thoughts and feelings to get to find the answer' which is stupid. If I knew the answer I wouldn't have asked the question.

"I don't know."

"I think you do, you're just scared of the answer." Maybe Canary isn't as nice as I thought.

I think over the question for a while, nothing but space in between Canary and me. "Well, today Bart said he likes how I feel, and then said he sounded creepy so he changed his answer to something about showing care and being shown it, I don't know."

Once again, the older hero stays silent, scribbling away at her notes. "Repeat that." This is really stupid.

"Bart said he likes how-"

"Not that part, the last part." Why did I ask to talk to Canary? This is a waste of time.

"His answer was something about showing care and feeling cared for," I repeat, my anger bubbling with my words.

"Again," she orders, not helping the growing frustration.

"Bart said he likes touching me because it's how he shows he cares and how he feels that he is cared about - oh..." Maybe Canary isn't stupid, and maybe I don't like the answer. Why would Bart care about me? I know he's supposed to since he's my companion and all, but other than supposedly having to, why does he?

There's a soft smile on her face as she looks at me. "See? You did know the answer, you just needed help putting the pieces together. What was the rest of the night like?"

"I don't know. We laid down after the movie and went to sleep."

"Was Bart touching you when you went to sleep?"

Why does that matter? "Yes, he had his arms around my hips and back like he did this morning."

"Why do you think he did that?"

I think about it for a moment. "Because... he was showing he cares...?"

Canary hums a yes as she nods in agreement. "People feel cared for in different ways. Some people - like Robin - feel cared for when people get them stuff like coffee, love letters, or even something as simple as a rock. Other people - like Bart - feel cared for when they're touched like hugs, kisses, and holding hands. Most of the time people show they care in the same way they feel cared for."

"Are those the only ways to feel cared for? I don't like any of those things."

Canary smiles softly again, before speaking. "There are five love languages. The two we already talked about are called receiving gifts and physical touch. There are acts of service like Batgirl helping Nightwing with paperwork. Words of affirmation is another one, stuff like being told you're doing good-"

"Ew," I say before I can stop myself. "I hate when Nightwing and Conner do that."

Canary nods, propping her head up with her arm. "Your love language is quality time. Stuff like napping with Bart or sitting with him when he plays his video games." I nod, the same way Canary does, as I roll her words around my head. I feel bad for thinking she was stupid, she's smart. "So, the time before sleeping was good, how was the actual sleeping?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, my confusion washing away all the understanding I had a second ago. I think this is why I don't like talking to Canary sometimes. She's good at making stuff make sense, and then ruining it the next time she asks a question.

"Did you sleep through the night?"

"Oh, I woke up a few times. I'd panic for a while before I realized it was Bart."

Back to silence, sounds of breathing and Canary's pen filling the space between us once again. "How'd this morning go?" She finally asks, being the one to break the silence again.

"I woke up confused."

"Because Bart was there?"

"Yes and no," I answer, getting a head tilt from the lady across from me. That usually means I answered in a way she wasn't prepared for. "I was happy to see Bart when I woke up and I did finally remember he was supposed to be there but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I should stick to my routine or not because waking up with him in my bed isn't part of my normal schedule."

"You don't do very well with change," She says softly like she does every time we discuss a change in my life.

"I know," I answer shortly, like always. "He ended up waking up shortly after and kept touching me again."

"Did you not like him touching you?"

"I didn't mind him touching me for most of it."

"And for the rest of it?"

I go silent again, replaying this morning in my head, trying to remember my thoughts and feelings in the moment. "Bart just... touched me differently I guess."

"Try rewording that." Occasionally Canary will say this, usually when she needs more context or doesn't understand what I'm saying.

"Bart... lifted my shirt. Not like a lot! Just a little bit, and kept touching my skin on my stomach and sides and I don't know," I rush out with a heavy tone, using my hands to model how much skin was showing. "It wasn't a lot," I repeat, a lot softer this time.

"Does it matter whether it was a little or a lot?"

Yes, it does. Why wouldn't it? "Different things happen depending on how much clothing is off. If it's a little bit it's just a check up and if it's a lot I get hurt."

Canary falls silent, pen still and her heart beats a bit faster. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. "Is that what happened when you were with Luther?" Her voice is a little uneven, but I'm surprised. Anytime we talk about how Luther used to hurt me her heartbeat picks up.

"Ya, it did. Do you think Bart would hurt me?"

Again, silence from the lady across from me, but her pen is at work this time and her heart is back to normal. "No one can be hundred percent sure someone else won't hurt anyone, but I do believe Bart wouldn't ever hurt you."

"Why?"

Silence. More silence, and then... some more silence. I hate how long Canary takes to answer my questions. "Has Conner talked to you about having a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

That's not an answer, that's another question. I think Canary just likes to make me angry. "He said I can love whoever I want to love, girlfriend or boyfriend."

She hums, no pen marks this time. "Do you know what a boyfriend or girlfriend is?" I shake my head no. I don't know what one is or the use of one. "A boyfriend or girlfriend is a lot like a friend. Do you know what a friend is?"

"A friend is someone you care about and trust and spend time with."

Another hum and another nod. "A boyfriend or girlfriend is kind of like that. A lot of the time, they start as friends or companions in your case, before a deeper relationship develops."

"I still don't see a difference."

"Well with a boyfriend or girlfriend, you tend to be more... physical. You do things like kiss among other things that you wouldn't do with a friend. Unlike a friend, you only have one and there's stuff you only do with them. Oh, and a boyfriend is a test run for a husband."

"What's a husband?"

"Let's save that discussion for after we get the boyfriend-girlfriend thing down."

"What's a girlfriend?" I ask finally, it's been three months since the first time I heard of it. The question has sat in my head ever since.

"Same as a boyfriend but it's a girl instead of a boy." Oh, that's simple. It makes me feel dumb for not figuring that out on my own. "Nightwing tells me you were having a panic attack when you came to find him."

"Panic attack?" I echo, confused about this and still confused about the whole boyfriend thing. I don't like feeling confused, it makes me angry and reminds me how little I know about the world because of Luther.

"Yes, it's when it's hard to breathe and you feel very scared, and it's hard to think straight because of your emotions. All you think about is your fear and what's causing it." Ya, I definitely had a panic attack earlier. "What happened right before you felt like that?"

I stay quiet, mentally going over the event. I know what happened. I remember all of this morning. I don't know why it makes me so scared. It shouldn't be scary for Bart to want my clothes off, right? Maybe it should be.

"Bart... he asked me to... he wanted to take a shower together," I stumble out, struggling on how to form my sentence.

"And that made you feel scared?"

I nod, propping my arms on my knees before burying my face into my hands. "Why would that make me feel scared? Why would it cause a panic attack?"

Like always, I have to wait for Canary to finish her writing and thoughts before she answers. From between my fingers, I watch as she leans forward, sitting in a similar pose to me. "I think that the idea of being without clothes around someone scares you because it reminds you of the things Luther has done to you. I also think that Bart believes he's your boyfriend. Have you two talked about that? Or kissed? Or anything else that you haven't done with another member of the team?"

The first half of Canary's speech makes sense. I understand that, I remember the fear I felt, the fear that before today, Luther was the only one to make me feel. The second half... not so much. Why would Bart think he's my boyfriend? We haven't kissed or anything else. We do things together, we spend time together, and we take naps.

"We haven't kissed and we haven't talked about him being my boyfriend. We hold hands but I do that with Conner as well. We take naps together too but again I do that with Conner."

"It's different with Conner. There's stuff you do and say with family that you wouldn't do with a friend." That doesn't make any sense either. My head hurts from all this thinking and I'm getting angry. I have more questions than answers. This isn't helping.

"People are confusing," I mumble, rubbing my face before sitting up straight.

Canary stays put, giving me another soft smile. I'm really starting to not like it when she smiles at me. "How about we stop for the day, ya? I'll come back and we can talk again tomorrow."

"What do I do about Bart?" I ask as she stands up and starts collecting her things.

It takes a second - like usual - for Canary to answer. "I think you should have a serious talk with him. See if he thinks he's your boyfriend. See if you want him to be your boyfriend. If you're happy with the talk, have another sleepover. If you're not, stay away from him today and we'll look into and talk about finding you another friend."

I don't want another friend. I want Bart. I want to keep him all to myself. For a long time, if not forever. Maybe I shouldn't want to keep him. Maybe that's me being possessive like Wolf gets about Conner and me. Conner always yells at Wolf about it so it has to be a bad thing, right? I need to find Bart and talk to him. Maybe he'll help my thoughts. Hopefully, he'll help my thoughts. As long as he doesn't make them worse.

————————————

My head is scattered when I walk back into my room. After my session with Canary, I went on a walk and then continued to walk, for two hours. Instead of helping, it just messed up my thoughts more. Canary didn't help, she just made me more confused.

Like earlier today, Conner calls for me as I walk through the living room. Once again, I ignore him. Conner tries to help with my thoughts but usually, he just confuses me or gets angry because he doesn't understand either.

A bit of relief runs through my veins when I swing my bedroom door open, but it's soon washed away. Laid out on my bed is my red-tinted companion, who instantly sits up when he hears the door open. "Y/N," he calls, jumping to his feet. "Are you okay? Nightwing said you had a panic attack. Did I cause it? What happened? Where have you been? Did I upset you? Did-"

"Please be quiet," I murmur, looking at my shoes as I try to push down my feelings. I'm upset that I made Bart worry, I'm upset that I can't control my fear, and I'm upset that Bart won't be quiet so I can answer his questions.

Surprisingly, Bart does silence. I can feel his eyes digging into me as I focus on my shoelaces. One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten... Maybe taking deep breaths and counting does help. "I am fine. I did have a panic attack, but it's fine. You did but didn't cause it. A lot has happened today. I was with Nightwing and then Canary and then I went on a walk. You did but didn't, once again."

"How did I both cause and not cause your panic attack? How did I cause and not cause you to be upset?" I glance at Bart, his face scrunched up and his eyes are pink. I decide to focus on the wall behind him instead. I don't like knowing I caused him to cry.

"You... I didn't... I don't like new and there was a lot of new this morning." My words stick in my throat a few times before I manage to get them out.

"I don't understand."

I sigh, glancing at his face again. His eyes are teary, making my heart feel like it's being squeezed. I don't want him upset, I want him happy, I'm supposed to make him happy. "I... liked you waking up in my bed. It feels... it makes me feel important."

"You are important. Very important to me, actually." Maybe my thoughts aren't always wrong. Why am I so important though? I don't do anything to be important. I definitely don't do anything to be important to Bart.

"The..." I stop for a second, running my fingers under my shirt. "That was fine. It was okay, but it made me a bit scared. Then you... kept touching me and... it makes me scared. Really, really scared." Bart steps forward a bit before stopping, causing himself to stand in an awkward half-leaning forward, half-staying put pose. "And... and then you asked to take a shower together and... all I could think about was you wanting to hurt me, about Luther hurting me."

Bart knows a lot about my time with Luther. He doesn't know the details like Canary and Conner do, but he knows about the tests, about the chocolate, about the hurting. He doesn't know about the on and off clothes, so I don't think it's fair that I'm upset with him. It's not fair for me to have a panic attack because of it. It's not fair that I make it seem like his fault.

"I didn't... I'm sorry," he mumbles, fixing himself so he finishes his step forward.

"It's not your fault. Luther hurt me, not you. It's not your fault. I just... I can't say no."

Bart takes slow steps forward, stopping right in front of me. His cheeks are wet. I made him cry. I don't want to make him cry. "I am sorry I kept touching you. I should have stopped when you told me you were worried. I know you... struggle with new things so I shouldn't have pushed anything new onto you this morning. I'm sorry."

His words feel nice. They make me feel calm. Silence envelopes us, it's not the usual gentle silence though, it's a heavy silence. "Do you think you're my boyfriend?"

Bart tilts his head some, his eyebrows pressing together in confusion. "Yes? Why are you asking? Do you not think I'm your boyfriend?"

Why would I think he's my boyfriend? I don't even know what a boyfriend is. Even with Canary's explanation, I'm still confused. "Canary told me that she thinks that you think you're my boyfriend. At the end of our session, she said to talk to you and see what you think and see if I want you to be my boyfriend. She also said if I'm happy with our talk to have another sleepover and if I'm unhappy to stop talking to you, which made me angry."

"I... have a lot of questions," Bart mumbles, confusion deeper on his face. "First, do you not know what a boyfriend is?"

"Not really. Canary said it was someone you are more physical with, and you kiss them, and you only have one, and something about a husband."

"Okay," he says, blinking his eyes a few times. "Um... a boyfriend is someone you love a lot. You do kiss them too and you do... other things that aren't important right now. It's someone you want to spend the rest of your life loving." Oh, that makes a lot more sense than what Canary said. "Why were you upset when Canary said to stop talking to me?"

Bart is dumb, and unlike Canary, he is actually dumb. "Because you're important. You're my companion. I want to keep you forever and I don't want anyone else to have you." Bart smiles at this but I'm not sure why. "But Conner yells at Wolf for being possessive so I don't think I'm supposed to feel like that."

Bart's smile gets bigger as he lets out an airy laugh. "Conner yells at Wolf because he growls when people get too close to you and when Conner spars. That's completely different from what you're feeling. You don't growl at people or threaten to hurt them if they talk or come near me." Oh... that makes a lot of sense.

"So, you're my boyfriend?"

"Do you want me to be your boyfriend?"

"Yes," I say, nodding in agreement to my statement.

"Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life with me or are you scared to say no?"

"I actually want to spend my life with you." It makes me sad even thinking about someone else getting to have Bart. He's supposed to be my companion.

Once again, Bart's smile grows as he looks at me. "Good, because I want to be your boyfriend."

"So, you're my boyfriend."

"So, I'm your boyfriend." The word sounds weird but nice.

"I still don't know what the difference between a boyfriend and a friend is though."

"We'll figure it out together, okay?" He says, slowly moving closer. "And we'll move slowly so you don't get scared again, and I'll start asking before I touch you, okay? Does that sound good?"

"Yes, it sounds very good. I'm sorry for upsetting you."

Bart goes to put his hands on my hips but freezes with them hovering over me. "Can I touch you?" I nod yes. "Do you actually want me to touch you or are you scared to tell me no right now?"

"I actually want you to touch me."

Once the words are out, Bart's hands are present on my hips, once again rubbing soft circles into me, over my clothes this time. "You don't need to be sorry. I scared you. I pushed too hard this morning. I should have talked to you instead of assuming you were okay with me touching you. I shouldn't have assumed I was your boyfriend. From now on we will talk about stuff more, okay? Maybe we can talk to Canary about doing couples therapy so we can work on making this work, ya?"

"Ya, I like that idea."

"I like that idea too." I have a boyfriend. Bart is my boyfriend. I get to keep Bart forever.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————