#part 15

“Yeah! Don’t worry! All good, promise!” Danny hurries to respond. “Either way, how come you can tell?”

“Father makes us take first aid lessons due to all the rogue attacks.” Damian answers with a whole truth. As Gotham’s knights they sometimes have to attend injured civilians and themselves if they get too roughed up.

“Oh, that explains why you could treat us both so fast back on that first day!” Danny says as he smiles with good humor.

“Ugh, do not even remind me. I bet father, Pennyworth and Richard are gonna give me a good earful once you and Woodlock leave for the night.”

“But it was fun!” Danny defends.

“It was an interesting experience.” Damian agrees.

The whole time the pair talked and walked through the hallways their hands stayed held, fingers curled around each other’s, small smiles on their lips and stars shinning in their eyes. They cross on last glass double door, exiting the manor and walking onto one of the many gardens that surround the Wayne’s home.

“Is that the barn?” Danny asks as he points at the lone barn in the distance.

“You’ve got good eyesight.” Damian pleasantly comments.

“*Gasp* Damian, you didn’t tell me you could see the stars from your backyard.” Danny says as he looks up to the sky out curiosity, stopping on his spot to admire the night sky.

Damian first looks at Danny’s face and a smug smile appears on his face at the face of utter wonder and joy. First step, complete. “When the weather gets colder in Gotham, and given the height where the manor is located, the night sky gets significantly clearer during the last of fall and winter. We also have a small observatory, father told me that he and grandmother used to star gaze when he was younger.”

“You have an observatory in your house? And you never told me?! The treason!” Danny exclaims with a dramatic gesture with his free hand.

“If someone wouldn’t get us in trouble so often then maybe I would have remembered to tell you.”

“Are you blaming me for your old man memory?”

“I never said names.”

“Treason I say! Mutiny!” Danny keeps exclaiming.  

“Do you still want to meet my cow?”

“Yes, let’s go!”

And just like that they once again make way to the barn.

***

“She’s so pretty!” Danny sings as his eyes fall on the fine figure of Batcow – Damian hasn’t told him her name yet –. “And look at the spot over her eyes! It looks like a bat! Please tell me her name is Batcow.” A manic smile blooms on Danny’s face, clearly finding the whole thing more than amusing.

“That is indeed her name.” Damian nods his head, feeling a little embarrassed of his younger self name choice.

“I knew you had it you, Dami!” Danny laughs.

Batcow is lounging on her space, laying on a comfortable bed of straw that is also happily chewing.

Damian lets go of Danny’s hand and the blue-eyed teen rushes to kneel before the cow, softly caressing between her eyes and on top of her head. “Who is a good cow? The best cow? You are, yes, you are.”

Damian’s heart melts at the sight and a wobbly smile bloom on his lips.

“Do you milk her?” Danny asks as Damian takes a seat by his side.

“Yes, twice a day.” Damian answers as he also starts to pet Batcow.

“What do you do with the milk?”

“She doesn’t produce much. We keep some and give away to rest to family friends.”

“You consume it too?” There is surprise in Danny’s voice.

“I’m vegetarian, Daniel, not vegan. Once in a while I allow myself to indulge in a good glass of milk.”

“I’m surprised we never talked about it; it is a rather big thing for you.” Danny says as he looks at Damian.

“You have always been respectful and very understanding though.” Damian answers as he also looks at Danny.

They both lock gazes, ice-blue on vibrant green, their fingers once again dangerously close on the dirty wood floor, the tips barely touching and both feeling the soft electricity between the tip of their almost touching fingers.

One second… two… three… four…

How long have they been looking at each other again?

“Mooooo.”

Batcow moos, making both young men jump on their spot, both pulling away their fingers and directing their eyes somewhere else as their cheeks flare in red.

“Y-Yeah, well, I’m glad now I know!” Danny stutters.

“Yes.” Damian curtly nods his head.

“We should get back.” Danny says as he stands up. “I-It’s getting late.” He adds as he turns but before he can start walking away…

“Wait!” Damian takes his hand, making Danny turn to look down at him. “There is something I would like to talk with you.” Damian adds and he can feel the fire in his cheeks and the tremor in his voice and the twisting in his guts and the wild pounding of his heart against his ribcage as a sharp cold makes goosebumps bloom on his skin.

“O-oh, ok.” Danny accepts and proceeds to kneel down before Damian.

Damian swallows thickly, feeling like a blob of slime is what is rolling down his throat instead of saliva.

***

“No. Fucking. Way.” Jason whispers to no one in particular as he and the rest of the brood are listening in on Damian and Danny.

The whole week Damian has been so out of himself due to his nerves for the dinner that he didn’t noticed Cass putting little listening devices in the barn just in case Damian took Danny there. Imagine their utter flaggerblasterness when Damian indeed pulled Danny out and took him to the barn?! It took everything in Dick to not scream in utter glee as Jason and Cass held him down to not start jumping around, Steph started to hit Tim’s arm and Duke made a silent scream of “Let’s fucking go!”

“Shh! Let me listen!” Tim whispered back.

At that Dick and Steph proceeded to cover Jason’s mouth with their hands as they cover their own mouth with their other hand.

“You are the most charming person I have met so far.” Damian says through the radio device.

“Shut uuuuup.” Duke silently mouths.

“Fuck.” Tim silently mouths.

Cass and Dick are holding hands now while Jason and Steph are covering each other mouths.

“I like you… romantically I mean. I… would you go on a date with me?” Damian says through the radio.

The tension the room rises; it is so tense you can cut it with a piece of foam!

No one moves. No one breaths. No one dares to nothing!

“I…” Danny’s voice is heard and…

--

Robotnik sat leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees while he stared at his steepled hands intently. Across the living room, Walters was quietly arguing over the phone, rubbing at his forehead in frustration.

After calling Dr. Vox, Robotnik had quickly messaged Walters as well.

A fugitive Hybrid showed up on my doorstep

Walrers hadn't been happy to be woken up by that text at 3 in the morning. In fact, he had yelled at Robotnik for the first time in years.

It wasn't as if Robotnik asked for Rockwell to show up! Especially injured by her own hand!

Luckily, Vox was a better sport at being woken up and requested to do emergency care on a random Hybrid. Although, she had promptly kicked Robotnik out of the room to stitch up Rockwell. Something to do with Rockwell's stress levels.

But she had let Stone stay.

Jaw clenching, Robotnik glared harder at his hands.

He didn't like how close Stone and Rockwell were.

Not only was Rockwell wearing Stone's clothes, she only calmed down when Stone would touch her. Stone himself was hovering over her, his ears flat as he tried to keep in a whine of worry.

When Robotnik had been kicked out of the room, he had seen Stone kneeling next to the bed, his hands clasped around one of Rockwell's.

What did it all mean?

Sure, Robotnik had seen Rockwell's old, dirty and bloody clothes in the trash. No doubt she didn't have time to take anything with her. Not to mention, she and Stone were the same height which meant it was logical that she could wear his clothes.

But why!?

Couldn't Stone have figured something else out rather than let her wear his clothes? It felt far too intimate.

And why were they so touchy feely?

Yes, Stone was the same way with him. If either of them were hurt, Stone would calm significantly if they had physical contact. Even small brushes of their hands would have Stone relaxing and smiling, his tail wagging. When he had been recovering, sometimes the only thing that would settle Stone down was having him sit in Robotnik's lap. He would cuddle closer and fall asleep he was so relaxed.

But why did Stone have to touch Rockwell so casually!?

All of this was leading to a conclusion Robotnik didn't even want to consider.

Surely it wasn't possible Stone and Rockwell were more than friends?

So lost in thought, Robotnik jerked slight as Walters roughly sat down across from him on the other couch. Walters looked exhausted as he leaned back and massaged his temples. So frantic to get over to Robotnik's lab, he had thrown his military jacket over his pajamas, not bothering to get dressed.

"So?" Robotnik raised an eyebrow.

"The Hybrid Division is not happy," Walters sighed.

"Who the fuck cares what they think?"

"We do!" Walters snapped. "Especially when they're the ones who can declare Rockwell a traitor."

"Hmmm." Robotnik looked away. He didn't enjoy dealing with a snippy Walters. He much more preferred the jovial old man facade Walters usually wore.

"Since she ran away from her post, they want her to report back to the breeding program," Walters explained. "I insisted that she was too injured to be moved. We have until she's healed to figure out what to do with her."

Robotnik glanced over at the closed door that held the two Hybrids and Dr. Vox.

"I'll take her on as a second agent."

Walters head snapped up, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he stared at Robotnik.

"You?" His eyebrows hit his hairline. "Since when do you take any agent on?"

"I've had Stone for over a year," Robotnik glared. "A second Hybrid agent wouldn't be that unusual."

"Dog Hybrids do work well in groups," Walters hummed thoughtfully.

That comment had Robotnik's frown. The reason neither Stone nor Rockwell were forced into the breeding program earlier was due to them pretending to hate each other. Would the Hybrid Division believe that the two of them could suddenly work together again?

Shaking his head, Robotnik decided to figure that issue out later. Their excuse didn't need to make sense; as long as the Division didn't come knocking on their door again, then it was fine.

"The soon White is gone, the better," Robotnik glanced at Walters. The man nodded heavily, his face severe.

"Dr. Robotnik?"

Jumping to his feet, Robotnik smoothed his clothes out and reflectively brought a finger up to recurl his mustache. Dr. Vox greeted him with a tired smile.

Her hair was normally in a small afro but at the moment she was wearing a silk bonnet. She had been able to bring a set of scrubs before running over to the lab.

"Rochelle's all stitched up."

"Who?"

"The other Hybrid?" Vox raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Yes. Did she actually stab her uterus?"

"No. She was lucky she didn't actually nick anything important or else I would have moved her to the actual clinic. She will have to take things easy for a few weeks, but she'll be fine."

"And on the official report?"

Vox smirked slightly.

"It'll take a couple of months for her to be up and about."

Robotnik let out a quiet breath. That gave them plenty of time.

"For now," Vox continued. "Bedrest and limited movement. I think Stone will help her recovery."

"Really?"

Vox chuckled.

"If they didn't look so different, I'd say they were from the same litter."

"Litter?"

"You know, like siblings," Vox explained. "Stone said they were on the same team for years, it's not unusual for people to develop close relationships like that."

"Right..."

"Anyway," Vox's mouth cracked open into a yawn as her words slurred. "If there's anything else, give me a call. Have a good night."

Robotnik let Walters walk her out as he tentatively approached the bedroom door. It was right next to his own room, originally the room he was going to have Stone move into before deciding to let the Hybrid sleep with him.

Opening the door, he found Rockwell propped up on a few pillows with Stone sitting next to her, her head resting on his shoulder.

They both looked ready to fall asleep.

"Stone, go get ready for bed."

Stone's nodded, his movements slow as he gently pushed away from Rockwell. She let out a small growl and snapped her teeth at Stone, but there wasn't any force behind it.

Watching Stone slink away, Robotnik turned back to Rockwell.

While her body was lax, her eyes were still sharp.

"I'm having it arranged to take you on as a second agent."

"Thank you."

The room fell silent as they stared at each other, assessing. After a few moments, Robotnik stepped closer to the bed, not taking his eyes off Rockwell's.

"You said you came here because I gave Stone a collar. What did you mean by that?"

"I meant that I could trust you," Rockwell narrowed her eyes.

"But what does the collar have to do with this?"

Rockwell's expression turned suspicious as she eyed him up and down.

"You do know what a collar signifies, right?"

"I..."

Robotnik was sure that no matter what he said, Rockwell would only judge him even more.

"Stone said you were smart."

"I have five PhDs!"

"But know nothing about Hybrids even though you live with one," she snorted. "Dumbass."

"I can easily throw you out," he snarled through clenched teeth.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Rockwell rolled her eyes. "Would you give someone a ring randomly?"

"No?"

"So why would you give a Hybrid a collar without knowing what it meant?"

"I didn't think it meant anything," Rockwell mumbled. "I wanted to show everyone who Stone belonged to."

"Congrats. You did just that."

Robotnik glared.

"In certain Hybrid circles," Rockwell up straighter with a grunt. "A collar signifies a lot. Usually, when a human gives a Hybrid a collar, it means they have brought them into their family. They respect and love the Hybrid enough to see them as someone they want to protect. The collar is a physical representation of the agreement that you will take care of that Hybrid. Sometimes, when a human who is single gives that collar to a Hybrid who is also single, it also represents a more romantic relationship."

She sent him a sharp look.

Oh.

Oh.

"So, what did you mean by giving him the collar?" Rockwell pressed. "Because he might see it completely differently from you."

Swallowing dryly, Robotnik didn't know.

He wanted the world to know that if they ever messed with Stone, they would have to deal with him. He also wanted Stone to know that Robotnik had chosen him; he wanted Stone to stay and would never send him away.

Was there more to it?

"W-what does he think it meant?" Robotnik glanced at Rockwell out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't know," Rockwell shrugged. "But, if he shows you his knot, I think you'll figure it out."

"His what!?"

"Don't worry," Rockwell smirked, something devious sparking in her eyes. "He likes to be the one taking a knot. I'm sure you can figure out how to give him one."

Robotnik's face was on fire as Rockwell snickered.

"He really likes doggy style."

That was it!

Without another word, Robotnik retreated. Slamming the door behind him, he felt his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

He couldn't get the image of Stone on all fours, completely naked, out of his head.

"Damn her!" Robotnik hissed. For all he knew, she was lying and trying to rile him up.

Shaking his head to desperately get those thoughts out, he turned and walked the short distance to his own room. Opening the door, he found Stone already curled up in the bed.

Since he had given his own sweats to Rockwell, Stone was wearing the pajamas Robotnik had loaned him so long ago.

"Hmm? Doctor?" Stone's eyes cracked open as he saw Robotnik standing in the doorway. The blanket moved as Stone's tail wagged underneath it. "Coming to bed?"

"Yeah..."

Steve laughs. “Not quite,” he says. “You’re sneaking in under the wire here.”

“Had to manage the flights,” Louis says. “You know how it is.” 

Steve, much to his chagrin, does know. “Go on,” he says, nodding towards the tent. “He’ll be happy it’s you.” 

Louis doesn’t say the obvious, just grins and heads into the tent. 

“No way!” Lando exclaims, a delighted laugh ringing out. “Oh, I’m glad it’s you. I thought you were in France tonight.” 

“I begged off,” Louis says. “Miss the chance to fuck a world champion?” 

Lando giggles. “You’ve already fucked a world champion,” he points out. “I’ve got the video to prove it.” 

Steve exhales in a whoosh. Louis is not his favorite anymore, actually. He’s somewhere solidly below Palmer. Probably still ahead of Kodrić. Maybe. 

“You know he fucking loved that video,” Louis says. His voice has dropped, seductive. “We got off together twice with it playing.” 

“Where’s my video of that, then?” Lando asks, indignant.

Louis chuckles. “You know how he is. Maybe he’d make one with you.” 

There’s a low groan. Lando, Steve thinks, but he can’t be sure. “You can’t,” Lando says, “no hickies.” 

“Such a shame,” Louis says. “Your neck is so inviting.” 

Lando – Steve is sure of it now – whimpers. 

“Come here,” Louis says. “On your stomach, let me get a look at you.” There’s the silken rustle of the bed, then a different series of sounds, Louis undressing, maybe. An admiring chuckle. “Wow,” Louis murmurs. “I can tell you’ve been taking it like a champion. Spread your legs a little? Perfect.” 

Right to it, Steve thinks. He’d expected a little preamble. 

Then Lando makes a sound that starts like a gut-punch and climbs into a sharp gasp. “Oh,” he moans, dragging it out. “Fuck, Louis.” He likes whatever’s happening, that much is obvious. “You’re the first one,” Lando says. 

“First one what?” Louis asks, strangely muffled. 

“First one to use your tongue,” Lando says. 

There’s the muted sound of laughter. “Those other boys don’t know how to take care of you like we do,” Louis says. 

“Gonna discuss this in the debrief,” Lando says, trying to keep up the banter but obviously struggling to maintain a coherent train of thought under Louis’ ministrations. 

“I bet I could do this for an hour and you wouldn’t come,” Louis says. “Might not even get properly hard. You’re too spent by now, aren’t you?” He sounds delighted by the prospect. 

“‘M trying,” Lando pants. 

“I know you are,” Louis says. “Want my hand?” 

Lando makes a soft, startled sound of pleasure. “Louis,” he says, so quietly Steve can barely hear it. 

“I want to keep eating you out,” Louis says. “Can I do that?” Lando must nod, because the next thing Steve hears is Lando whimpering beautifully. 

“God, your tongue is incredible,” Lando says. “You’re so good at this. Fuck.” 

It goes on long enough Steve’s jaw aches sympathetically, but Lando is a mewling mess inside and Louis seems perfectly content to stay where he is. 

“Did you bring toys?” Louis asks. Steve hears the sound of the zipper, and Louis chuckles. “Quite the selection,” he says. “No peeking.” He pops the cap on the lube. “A little cold,” he warns Lando. 

There’s a long, shuddering moan, and then Lando sighs happily. “That one’s my favorite,” he says. Steve immediately pictures the slim purple dildo, slightly curved, with a ridged texture swirling down the sides. 

“I’m glad,” Louis says. 

Steve hears the wet sound of the lube as Louis fucks Lando with the dildo. The toys don’t usually get a lot of play during these sessions, everyone too worried they’ll run out of time to get their dick wet. Louis seems to be okay with neither of them coming, at the rate he’s going. 

“Flip over,” Louis says. “I want to see your face.” 

There’s the rustling sound of Lando’s compliance, then the slick sound of lips meeting.

“I like this,” Lando says. Their lips meet again. “You have good ideas.” 

“Mmm,” Louis says. “Thank you.” 

It’s hard at first for Steve to decipher the sounds, but he quickly realizes they’ve transitioned to making out while Louis continues to fuck him with the dildo. Lando is going to be sore in the morning, Steve thinks, copious lubrication or no. 

She gave him a look. The kind that made it clear she didn’t buy his bullshit but wasn’t going to press him on it either. “Oh,” she murmured.“It smells like smoke in here.”

Lando barely paused as he shifted gears, glancing at her with a blank expression. “Does it?”

She sniffed again, like she was double-checking, then nodded. The thick scent of tobacco hit the back of her throat with every inhale, forcing her to breathe it in through her nose instead. “Yeah.” 

He played it cool, turning his attention back to the road. “Must’ve been the guy who had it before me.”

She frowned slightly. “You let people borrow your cars?”

Ah, fuck.

“Not usually,” he said smoothly. Lando played dumb, shifting the car into drive. “Why?”

She shot him a look before waving a hand slightly in front of her face. “Because it reeks in here.”

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly like he was considering it. “Huh. Must’ve been the guy parked next to me then.”

Not that I own my own private three-story garage or anything.

She didn’t look convinced.

He kept his expression neutral, his grip on the steering wheel relaxed. She wasn’t stupid—he knew that. But he also wasn’t about to sit here and talk about why he had needed a cigarette so badly after what had gone down the night before.

She turned to the window, clearly put off by the lingering scent, and he caught the way she subtly pulled at the collar of her sweater, like she wanted to block out the smell completely. She fidgeted with the collar of her shirt before deciding it’d be rude to show her distaste so blatantly, instead opting to fidget with her fingers in her lap. Her fingers curled against her thigh, her shoulders tensed just the tiniest bit.

Interesting.

The next day, he brought a different car.

He didn’t acknowledge it. She didn’t bring it up. But when she got in, there was no wrinkling of her nose, no slight shift of discomfort. Instead, when she noticed the scented dangling tree ornament hanging from the rearview mirror, there was a twinkle in her eye.

This car was swirling with the artificial scent of french vanilla – much warmer and sweeter than the overwhelming haze they’d had to inhale the day prior. Instinctively, she smiled.

Huh, it smells nice in here.

Warm scents always had been her favorite, with her always stopping to smell candles that smell like vanilla or snickerdoodle or s’mores whenever she found herself at the mall. And now, her lips curled in a subconscious display of approval as she sat beside him, before she began to delve into all the details of her day.

It was stupid how much that pleased him.

A week later, his boys started noticing.

“Alright,” Max Fewtrell said, arms crossed, watching Lando fidget with something in his hands. “Enough of this shit. You’re fidgety as fuck, mate. What the fuck is going on with you?” He eyed Lando, watching the way his fingers twitched slightly on the table. “You good?”

“What d’you mean?” Lando muttered, scowling as he flicked an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers against the table. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Twitching. Tapping. Clenching his jaw. Running his hand through his hair. All the fucking things he used to do before he ever picked up a cigarette.

Max Verstappen raised an eyebrow. “You’re miserable.”

“I am not miserable!” Lando snapped, then hesitated, rubbing a hand down his face.

Deep breaths. Get your shit together Norris. For fuck’s sake.

“Okay, maybe a little. But nothin’ more than usual, you muppets.”

Carlos Sainz paused in the middle of their game of pool, watching his boss like the kid was a puzzle missing half its pieces. “Didn’t you just buy a fresh pack the other day?”

Ah, so there’s a brain in there after all.

“Yeah,” Fewtrell agreed, his analytical gaze scanning Lando from head to toe and back again. “And then I saw you throw it in the bin an hour later.”

Can’t you ever mind your own fuckin’ business?

Lando snarled in nor particular direction, twirling the unlit cigerette between his fingers while he stared at it as if it had personally offended him. If he stared at it any harder, the poor thing would likely disintegrate.

Daniel Ricciardo, ever the opportunist, grinned wide and knowing. Mirth danced in those warm brown eyes. “I mean, hey, if you’re quitting, you could just say so.”

Lando let out a sharp breath, leaning against the counter. As soon as he pocketed the stupid cigarette, his fingers twitched like they wanted something to hold. A moment later, he had his lighter out instead, flicking it on and off in repetitive motions. “It’s not quitting.”

Fewtrell narrowed his eyes. “It looks like quitting.”

Daniel snorted. “Bullshit. You’ve been chewing gum like it’s your last meal and looking pissed off for the last three days.”

Fewtrell narrowed his eyes. “You are quitting.” He grinned. “What, you on a sudden health kick? Givin’ up joints for spring rolls?”

Lando sighed through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t even like smoking—never had, not really. It was just something that came with the job, something that filled the space between the cracks.

But now? Now it was annoying him. He found himself thinking about it in a way he never had before.

Max Verstappen lifted a brow, actually looking up from his phone. “Since when do you give a shit about that?”

Lando scowled. “It’s just—” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well– Erm, it’s– It’s just not right, y’know?”

Silence.

Carlos exchanged a glance with Fewtrell. Verstappen’s eyes narrowed slightly. Daniel just looked amused, using every once of self control not to burst out laughing in front of everyone. Oh, this was hilarious.

The guys exchanged glances.

Not right? Since when did Lando give a shit about right and wrong?

Carlos raised a brow. “Since when do you care?”

Lando didn’t answer. Instead, he flicked the lighter shut, shoving it into his pocket.

Fewtrell tilted his head. “Not right… how?”

And since when? He wanted to ask. You’ve been smokin’ a pack a week since you were old enough to reach the checkout counter at the corner store, so what’s this bullshit?

Lando pushed off the counter, grabbing his car keys. “Don’t worry about it.”

Daniel grinned. “Ohhh, I see.”

Lando barely looked up from where he was flipping a lighter between his fingers. “Dunno what you’re talking about. Y’don’t see shit,” Lando muttered, flipping him off as he walked out the door.

Daniel’s grin widened. “Whatever you say, boss.”