#sonofwayne

There was something calming about the Batcave this late at night, long after he had convinced Alfred to go to bed and claimed the room for himself. Lights off, hockey game playing on mute, but Bruce’s real focus was on the surveillance cameras he’d set up as part of his Brother Eye system. He could run every CCTV from here to the outskirts of Gotham, but tonight he was more focused on the immediate vicinity. 

He’d been waiting quite some time before he caught the movement. Just a blip. Too fast for most people to catch, but Bruce knew precisely what he was looking for. He cracked a small smile, rolling his chair forward, shuffling between various feeds, looking for the blot as it came closer and closer to the Manor. He was waiting for the perfect moment to strike as his prey closed in around him, walking right into his trap.

The intercom rang out, just below the edge of the roof. His voice loud and clear. “Robin. You’re past curfew.” He gave a brief chuckle, leaning back against the arm of the chair, watching for a reaction through the screen. “You’ve got thirty seconds to explain yourself before the alarm arms itself and the police come to arrest you.”

“What assets exactly do you have at your disposal? As far as I can see you’re just another pretty face… Why don’t you show me instead?”

"Wouldn't your father like to know his pride and joy is arranging a playdate with his lover? I can’t imagine Brucie being okay with it... but I do suppose what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him...”

Bruce had been avoiding Damian. Despite the grounding, and the promise of intensive training, he had made sure that other commitments kept him from having to face his son. Between the kiss and the accidental photo, he had been struggling to put feeling into thought. But tonight was patrol, and the rumblings of Gotham’s streets had him convinced something big was going to happen tonight.

So he sent the text, only once scrolling up to the image that lingered in his inbox, his chest seizing up when he saw it.

>> Cave. 10 minutes. If you’re late, you’re staying home tonight and doing dishes with Alfred.

It was barely three in the afternoon, plenty of time before darkness fell, but he needed to make sure the air between them wouldn’t be tainted. If they couldn’t get through some basic training, perhaps it would be best to call in a favour. See if somebody could babysit Robin on patrol while he went off alone.

It was about time that Selim invited Damian over to his boudoir. If he was going to commit to any sort of future with The Bat, it was only natural that he made a greater effort to bond with his lover’s extended family. 

Damian in particular seemed rather... eager about it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the boy had his eyes on The Cat.

“My place isn’t as big as your father’s, obviously, but I like to think it’s got its charms...” Selim explains, leading Damian in a quasi-tour of the premises. It should be noted that he was wearing the slightest of clothing, as he usually did in the confines of his home. An open silk shirt and tight, sheer briefs --- all black, obviously. Selim had a thing for the absence of color in his wardrobe.

The telephone rings in the distance, just as they stop at Selim’s walk-in wardrobe, where he kept all his slinky outfits for crime-doing. All leather everything. 

“Well, won’t you look at that... I’ve got a caller,” smirks Selim, leaning against the open doorway. “You’ll be alright if I go take that, won’t you sweetie?” he asks, offering Damian a knowing grin. “Make yourself at home, feel free to explore...”

……………….I will make your death slow and painful one day, Todd.

Aw, thanks, kid. I didn't actually get the chance to fuck your mother this year.

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