burnable trash

[ficlet] Once (Bruce/Dick, Damian/Dick uh ish)

stillthere4me answered: Some Damian/Dick or Bruce/Dick? :)

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Though there had been a thousand looks and lingering touches, Bruce had only broken one, just once, many years ago, more than he’d care to admit. Dick had been young and angry, blue eyes pleading. There wasn’t long left for them at that point, not as they were, not as they had always been. Even then, Bruce had known there would never be another one like Dick Grayson. Dick had gripped the front of Bruce’s shirt and yelled, and then Bruce had cupped his face, and he’d cried, and kissed him softly.

Only once. Bruce had only broken once, he’d only known that body once, but he’d seen it in his dreams a hundred times, and he’d seen it in Dick’s face hundreds more, in his pleading blue eyes and his soft voice when they were alone. Many years had passed now, and still there had never been another one like Dick Grayson, there could never be another one.

“I’m going to take him from you,” Damian told him, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m going to take him because he’s mine.”

Bruce didn’t say anything for a long moment. He had broken only once, but he’d cracked a thousand times, lined from head to toe with them, ready to collapse, intact past all sense, all reason, all logic. In his dreams he saw Dick’s young, lean body, and heard his voice, there will never be anyone else like you. He remembered, too, a small smile, not so long ago. You know, he has your eyes.

“I hope you do,” Bruce said, finally.

They both knew it was a lie.

#42: Nature and Nurture (Jason/Dick)

So this is for uh whoever asked for Dick/Jason when I asked for ideas, I don’t want to search right now for who it was (ETA: it was stillthere4me, hello this is probably not what you wanted at all). Dick/Jason! That is a pairing I like, but one I have not bothered writing yet.

The prompt was “jealousy” but I uh got distracted. I HAVE AN IDEA FOR THAT THOUGH so um another day.

NON-CON WARNING OKAY

# # #

It had been about power, about proving that the boy wonder was just an animal when you got down to it, a primal being just like everyone else, and Jason Todd was a predator of the highest order. Everyone was the same with a cock in their mouths.

Jason smashed the window of Dick’s shabby Blüdhaven apartment and pushed Dick into the bed, one hand on his throat, the other at Dick’s fly. Dick made a weak effort to push him away, but nothing near true resistance. What a slut, Jason thought to himself, disregarding the hefty dose of tranquilizers he’d slipped into Dick’s faggy chamomile tea.

Jason slipped off Dick’s jeans and then undid his own fly while Dick glared daggers at him. Jason could feel the heavy rise and fall of Dick’s chest against his thighs. “My first wet dream was just like this,” he said, and he shoved his cock into Dick’s mouth.

Dick groaned, and one hand twisted limply in the sheets, while the other moved to stroke himself. He really is a slut, Jason thought as he thrust in and out. Dick sucked on him, hard, and Jason wondered who else he’d done this with, as though he even had to guess.

“You’re an asshole,” Dick said when Jason was finished, cum and drool dripping from his mouth onto the pillow.

Jason zipped up his pants. “The only difference between you and me, Dickie-Bird, is that I stopped giving a fuck,” he said, and he stepped gingerly out the broken window and down to his bike, hidden behind a dumpster.

The trip to Gotham was a long one, but Jason didn’t mind, it gave him plenty of time to think. The police station had excellent security, but the building beside it did not, and it was barely any effort to scale it and leap across the rooftops. They really should pay more attention to the roof, Jason thought as he hefted his crowbar and smashed the bat signal to pieces.

Maybe it hadn’t all been about power.

SHERLOCK HOLMES I’M REALLY HAPPY FOR YOU AND IMMA LET YOU FINISH, BUT BATMAN IS THE GREATEST DETECTIVE OF ALL TIME

OF ALL TIME

“You and I? Don’t you want to take your new protege?”

GOD DAMNIT BATMAN LET OLLIE FOLLOW HIS HEART

#41: Spectrum (Dick/Damian)

I tried to do something but then I just ended up vomiting all these feelings out

I JUST

UGH

FUCK YOU DC

# # #

In the beginning, Damian hesitated to call the time with his father better or worse than the times before, though there was no denying it was different, that it was dark and colorless in contrast with what preceded it. Bruce Wayne played the role of Batman with brutal efficiency, but it had been a lifetime since he’d done it with joy. Gotham prospered for it, but sometimes in the dead of night, when Damian heard his father’s restless footsteps finally cease out of pure exhaustion, he would slip out of bed and down to the Batcave to rest his palm flat against the last glass tube. Then, slowly, he would kneel down and ran his thumb along the small, neat plaque labelled Batman & Robin.

The first evening Damian had gone to punch out a thug only to see a flash of silver batons, his breath caught in his throat and his body reacted instinctively, twisting and jumping and ducking in tune with Dick’s movements. There was a smile, and a stupid pun, and it didn’t make any sense, all of it, it made even less sense than the day Dick had packed all his things and refused to look Damian in the eyes. Damian wondered if this is how his father felt even now, with all the Robins that had come before him. He wondered, as he pushed off Dick’s back to kick a thug in the face, if this is how Dick felt about Damian’s father, even now.

When the fight was over, Dick slipped away into the night before Damian could say anything, though he did not know what he would have told him even if Dick had given him the chance. Batman came up behind him, and asked him if it was Nightwing he’d been fighting with, and Damian realized that Dick had not said a word to his father, and he couldn’t help but smile. One of them had to, he reasoned.

The night before Dick left, Damian had gone into his room and laid his head on Dick’s chest listening to heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Damian couldn’t say why he did it. Dick’s pulse was quick and heavy, his breathing uneven. It was far from soothing, but it was something not unpleasant, and neither of them said a word, then or after.

Once, Damian went to Blüdhaven, alone, and he sought Nightwing out in the dark alleys and the crumbling rooftops. It was three nights before he found him, hanging off someone’s fire escape. Damian had expected to find him in battle, and he didn’t know how to handle him there, looking out sadly across the scum-ridden city he’d made his own.

Damian almost left then, unsure of how to approach, but then Dick was looking at him, and Damian’s feet moved to the edge of the roof, and he leaped nimbly to the platform below. His hood was pulled up, and all he could see beside him was Dick’s black-gloved hand gripping the railing. Black gloves, black spines, like before. Suddenly, Damian was back in Gotham, he was ten years old again and Dick Grayson was cracking terrible jokes and smiling too much, sullying the good name of Batman. He was ten years old, and looking at Dick Grayson with a longing he wouldn’t understand until much later.

There was a tug at his hood, and a flash of red streaked across Dick’s chest, and it was the present again. Dick smiled sadly at Damian, and told him to go home.

It was years before Dick came back to Wayne Manor, to sleep in the room next to Damian’s, the one that had always been his. For three nights Damian laid in his bed and strained to hear the rustle of sheets, the soft creak of the bed as he moved. On the fourth night, Damian threw back the covers, and he walked next door, his feet slapping noisily against the wooden floor. Dick was standing at his window, staring out at the distant lights of the city. Damian put his hand next to Dick’s on the windowsill.

“I’ve missed you,” Dick said, and Damian brought a hand up to softly cup Dick’s cheek. He wondered if his mother had known she was creating him for this one moment, as their lips came slowly together.

It is morning. Bruce Wayne stands alone in the Batcave, his palm pressed flat against an empty glass tube. Batman & Robin, the small bronze plaque says, with a date that means nothing to him.