#wayne drabbles

Wayne. Wayne McCullough. Fucking WAYNE. That crazy fool that will come to your house. Now you might be wondering, op, what the fuck is a Wayne? THIS. THIS IS A FUCKING WAYNE. 

There is SO FUCKING MUCH I could say about Wayne, and I’ll get it all out of my system eventually, but let’s start out with the obvious. This man is a fucking LEGEND. A rap sheet as long as his mangled right arm, probably been fingerprinted for as long as he’s been finger painting. His first word was fucker. Wayne is a man of action. A man of few words who would rather just beat someone’s face in with whatever the nearest object is (or the hammer he keeps on him. Or his nunchucks. Or his other nunchucks. or-) for hurting someone or trying to hurt someone in any capacity. It’s just the natural course of action. Why use lot word when few word do trick, but in Wayne’s case the few word that does the trick is subtly baiting the asshole into throwing the first punch -technically the first several - so that whatever the fuck he does after that is self defense. 

You know the whole if he wanted to he would thing??? WAYNE DOES. AND HE DOES. Wayne actually cannot look directly at you most of the time. He literally can’t. He just cannot process how beautiful you are in the most raw and original meaning of the word. You look like how good things smell. Wayne wants to metaphorically bury his nose in you and breathe you in until he chokes. He thinks he’d like it too. And guess what? You NEVER have to ask him for a goddamn thing. Wayne doesn’t always have practice when it comes to showing you how he feels about you in a romantic context. He doesn’t really know how to be a boyfriend yet. But good GOD he has all the right fucking instincts. Don’t be surprised if the first morning you spend together, regardless of if you had sex or just crashed at the same place, you wake up to find coffee and cereal, maybe a granola bar or something. Hell, he’ll break out leftover takeout from last night if that’s what’s on hand. But he sets it up for you. He goes outside and picks a couple of those little flowers that grow on curbs and in sidewalk cracks, the ones that are really small and probably weeds, but are still flowers regardless. He puts them in water, either in a comically too large beer bottle for such small flowers or in a plastic novelty shot glass he found lying around somewhere. 

There’s no big flashy good morning my darling, your handsome lover made you breakfast in bed, no loud declaration. There’s just Wayne standing there and watching you like he’s trying to tell if you approve or not. He looks like a little kid giving their first schoolyard crush a hand made valentine with a little lollipop taped inside and a notecard that says you’re so sweet, I’m dumdum for you! Wayne wants to please you. And if he doesn’t, he’ll keep trying until he figures out how to. He is NOT afraid to claw his way through two feet of solid steel if it means getting to see your face. 

HE’S SUCH A LITTLE FUCKIN WEIRDO TOO. Do you know anything about Conan the Barbarian, where to get those huge beef jerky sticks, or metal music?? “...no?” WELL YOU’RE GOING TO!!!!!! Wayne is just. He’s a little freak. And you MATCH HIS FREAK to a degree neither of you knew was possible. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never moshed a day in your life, or ever had the desire to before now. Wayne goes out of his way to dance in a room full of people at some party or event because some guy at the gas station said girls or romantic partners or whoever you are to him like it when guys dance with them, so now he’s dancing. He’s dancing awkwardly and terribly, like a clumsy rendition of saturday night fever in the pit of a punk concert. And he doesn’t really care if he’s good or not, he cares about the fact that it’s you that he’s doing this for. He’s so fucking sincere and earnest and shameless. You point him in a direction and he’ll floor it. He’ll floor it like he’s in a stolen gold ‘79 Trans Am or whateva.

Yes he WILL try to court you like a bird. Boystrous dances. Bringing you things. Getting you anything you might mention even SLIGHTLY wanting or needing. And guess what???? You cannot stand to see him be the only one dancing like that for more than a few seconds before you’re joining him. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or not either. You’re matching his freak. You’re accepting his bird-like courting rituals. Wayne will choke down 3 or 4 cups of coffee so vile he thinks he’d rather drink actual drain fluid, and he’ll do it with a smile in his eyes because he gets to drink coffee WITH YOU.

I fucking LOVE this weird little freak so much it’s not even funny. He’s so goddamn babygirl. First of all I canNOT get over the fact that so many people throughout the course of the show call him pretty. Like it’s an objective fact. Not only that but Wayne for SURE thinks they’re being mean/sarcastic if he even processes when they say that at all (I genuinely think it just goes in one ear and out the other, he does not find that to be even slightly important to take note of) but obviously MULTIPLE PEOPLE aren’t going to call him pretty even as an insult for no reason. It’s true. He IS pretty. He’s so pretty because he’s all heart. Wayne and Jason Todd do a little handshake over the following things:

Doe eyed bbygirl with dark hair and extreme touch deprivation

Sense of justice that enters the room before they do

More or less black and white street justice approach to any wrongs they encounter in the world (but like… they’re not incorrect)

Tough talking bronx banana (or in this case Brockton/Gotham)

Abandonment issues

GORGEOUS

Human tank/shield that won’t hesitate to get their ass beat to protect someone

More than a little feral but we love em for that

Honestly I could go on I’m realizing it’s a much longer list than I realized. Also refuses to listen to authority figures if they go against their moral code.

ANYWAY one of my favorite things about Wayne is that he has NO experience with women or dating or having a partner in any way shape or form regardless of their gender. He has ZERO boyfriend experience and off the charts boyfriend instincts is what I’m getting at. I was reflecting on this last night when I was supposed to be asleep (bc duh) and this popped into my head and made me laugh so hard I woke up and had to text it to my sibling so I didn’t forget.

You and Wayne are crashing in some dingy motel room on your way to Florida to get his dad’s car back. You’re not far south enough from Massachusetts for it to start warming up yet, but it’s not fully snowing either. It’s that horrible, bone chilling, frigid rain that cuts you to the quick and makes it feel impossible to warm up. Thank god for the hooker that agreed to get you a room for the night so you wouldn’t be tracked (Charmese is the real mvp) but surprise surprise! You wanna guess how many beds there are? 

NOT TWO!

Wayne being the angel baby he is, is already dragging an extra blanket onto the floor so you can take the bed. After bickering for a while you have to pull the “pretty please? I’m gonna sleep a lot better if you’re here with me 🥺”  and he’s folding like a lawn chair. 

Poor thing is stiff as a board, no idea what to do with his hands or arms, no idea if he should be looking at you this much but he really can’t stop staring because you set off every half functional scrap of serotonin in his brain. You take his hands in yours, holding them until they warm up, and you have no idea how they weren’t frozen solid. You roll yourself over so you can face him too and after some drowsy pillow talk, you’re both starting to warm up a little more - at least enough to sleep. And honestly you still can’t believe how respectful he is, how you literally INSISTED on sleeping in the same bed with him, alone in a motel room, and trying to make a move on you hasn’t even crossed his mind once. It’s like he doesn’t know that’s an option, despite how eager he was (and still is) to be your boyfriend. So you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. 

“G’night, Wayne.” You mumble softly. You hear his breath hitch, and you feel him smiling before your mouth even leaves his cheek. You settle down to try to sleep when you feel his hand on your… nose?

You open your eyes, and see him staring at you before he gets shy and looks away, but he keeps his hand there on your face. Your breath tickles his palm as you laugh softly. “Um…” You start to ask, and it’s only then that he realizes that this is… probably kind of a weird thing to do. But he doesn’t move his hand either. He blinks once or twice before he answers, his voice low and husky and softer than usual. 

“Your nose is cold.”