Ficlet: (Un)Wanted | DCU | Steph, Jason | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: (Un)Wanted
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Steph, Jason, Steph's baby
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 754
Prompt: For hc_bingo: Domestic Abuse: Emotional; For kissbingo: Other: To put them to sleep
Summary: To Steph, the Manor doesn't feel like home.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Twelfth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Safe. Hooray for the return of this 'verse! I blame not having much of a Steph!muse for the delay. Heh. Also, I couldn't find any official name for Steph's baby in canon, so I made one up. Hey, it's an AU anyway. :p
(Un)Wanted
The Manor doesn't feel like home.
For one thing, there are more rooms here than Steph's ever seen in her life, more than enough space for her, Cass, and Lira. For another, the guys here give her a wider berth than any man ever has.
It's downright creepy.
She's just not used to being left to herself like this, not crowded in, not intruded upon... not treated like a whore. Though, things could definitely be worse, considering where she came from, that pale excuse for a life in the innermost circle of hell, squatting in an empty apartment with the only people that hadn't let her down yet. They have everything here: food, heat, clothes, whatever she wants or needs, whenever she wants or needs it. It's a relief.
Still, it's just so quiet here, like a freaking cemetery sometimes, enough to give her the chills even in a room with a lit fireplace, as if all the warmth has been sucked out of the air. But then, it's not like there's any real threat here, not like the one that waited for her every day at home after she'd gone and gotten knocked up; taking a bottle of Jack to the head amidst a constant barrage of 'filthy slut' and 'no-good tramp' from her mother had certainly felt real enough. No, here it's more like something dancing at the edges of her senses, all the time. Like something's just... off about the boys, Jay and Tim, as if something's wrong about them. She doesn't know what.
And then there's the butler that seems to pop in and out unannounced, never preceded by footsteps or the creak of a door. She's halfway convinced he's not really here, seeing the way things appear just when she needs them. A fresh bottle for Lira, clean laundry, a new jar of her favorite moisturizer, even a bottle of purple nail polish that matches her costume perfectly, all of it just... shows up when she isn't looking.
Of course, it could all be in her head. Wouldn't be the first time, anyway, what with how often she's accidentally run into something bad going down out on the streets. Four weeks ago it was the three-block radius of fear gas. Ten days before that, Joker toxin, the freak. And a year ago, that cloud of spores that blanketed the park where she'd gone with her ex to chill and study for exams, which led to her little predicament with Lira. Weirder shit every time. Which was why she was wearing spandex in the first place. Go figure.
But no... it doesn't feel like it's all in her head. More like she's walked into the Twilight Zone. Where up is down and people can walk through walls and smell like they've had blood for dinner; there was no mistaking that one, and God, it was weird-
The unexpected knock on her bedroom door startles her out of her thoughts, and she can't help the spike of adrenaline that shoots all the way to her toes, her arms going protectively around Lira, the baby trying to sleep fitfully against her chest, not quite well yet from her illness.
“Come in,” she calls out, readying herself for anything; no one's actually come to her room besides Alfred, and he's never been there when she was, but anything's still possible, she supposes.
When the door slides open quietly, and a dark-haired head peeks around it, goose-bumps raise on Steph's arms. It's Jason, wild-eyed and dangerous-looking as always.
“Thought you and Cass might want dinner,” he says, offering a small smile that makes the dangerous air seem to melt away suddenly. “Alfred'll have it on the table soon.”
Dinner. Of course. Steph mentally slaps herself for being so utterly ridiculous.
“Oh, and he sent this up for the baby,” Jason goes on, holding out a small bottle. “Said it would help her go down for the night.”
Wary, Steph accepts the bottle, and it... it's warm, just right.
At that moment, something clicks inside her. These people... they care about her. And about Lira, and Cass. It shouldn't shock her so much, but it does, nearly knocking her back with the force of the revelation.
Looking back up to thank Jason, she finds him already gone, slipped away with the door already shut again. She slides down into the chair to feed Lira then, her eyes falling closed as she leans down and brushes a kiss over her daughter's forehead to help soothe her to sleep, her mind spinning.
Who knows? The Manor might start to feel like home after all.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Steph, Jason, Steph's baby
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 754
Prompt: For hc_bingo: Domestic Abuse: Emotional; For kissbingo: Other: To put them to sleep
Summary: To Steph, the Manor doesn't feel like home.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Twelfth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Safe. Hooray for the return of this 'verse! I blame not having much of a Steph!muse for the delay. Heh. Also, I couldn't find any official name for Steph's baby in canon, so I made one up. Hey, it's an AU anyway. :p
(Un)Wanted
The Manor doesn't feel like home.
For one thing, there are more rooms here than Steph's ever seen in her life, more than enough space for her, Cass, and Lira. For another, the guys here give her a wider berth than any man ever has.
It's downright creepy.
She's just not used to being left to herself like this, not crowded in, not intruded upon... not treated like a whore. Though, things could definitely be worse, considering where she came from, that pale excuse for a life in the innermost circle of hell, squatting in an empty apartment with the only people that hadn't let her down yet. They have everything here: food, heat, clothes, whatever she wants or needs, whenever she wants or needs it. It's a relief.
Still, it's just so quiet here, like a freaking cemetery sometimes, enough to give her the chills even in a room with a lit fireplace, as if all the warmth has been sucked out of the air. But then, it's not like there's any real threat here, not like the one that waited for her every day at home after she'd gone and gotten knocked up; taking a bottle of Jack to the head amidst a constant barrage of 'filthy slut' and 'no-good tramp' from her mother had certainly felt real enough. No, here it's more like something dancing at the edges of her senses, all the time. Like something's just... off about the boys, Jay and Tim, as if something's wrong about them. She doesn't know what.
And then there's the butler that seems to pop in and out unannounced, never preceded by footsteps or the creak of a door. She's halfway convinced he's not really here, seeing the way things appear just when she needs them. A fresh bottle for Lira, clean laundry, a new jar of her favorite moisturizer, even a bottle of purple nail polish that matches her costume perfectly, all of it just... shows up when she isn't looking.
Of course, it could all be in her head. Wouldn't be the first time, anyway, what with how often she's accidentally run into something bad going down out on the streets. Four weeks ago it was the three-block radius of fear gas. Ten days before that, Joker toxin, the freak. And a year ago, that cloud of spores that blanketed the park where she'd gone with her ex to chill and study for exams, which led to her little predicament with Lira. Weirder shit every time. Which was why she was wearing spandex in the first place. Go figure.
But no... it doesn't feel like it's all in her head. More like she's walked into the Twilight Zone. Where up is down and people can walk through walls and smell like they've had blood for dinner; there was no mistaking that one, and God, it was weird-
The unexpected knock on her bedroom door startles her out of her thoughts, and she can't help the spike of adrenaline that shoots all the way to her toes, her arms going protectively around Lira, the baby trying to sleep fitfully against her chest, not quite well yet from her illness.
“Come in,” she calls out, readying herself for anything; no one's actually come to her room besides Alfred, and he's never been there when she was, but anything's still possible, she supposes.
When the door slides open quietly, and a dark-haired head peeks around it, goose-bumps raise on Steph's arms. It's Jason, wild-eyed and dangerous-looking as always.
“Thought you and Cass might want dinner,” he says, offering a small smile that makes the dangerous air seem to melt away suddenly. “Alfred'll have it on the table soon.”
Dinner. Of course. Steph mentally slaps herself for being so utterly ridiculous.
“Oh, and he sent this up for the baby,” Jason goes on, holding out a small bottle. “Said it would help her go down for the night.”
Wary, Steph accepts the bottle, and it... it's warm, just right.
At that moment, something clicks inside her. These people... they care about her. And about Lira, and Cass. It shouldn't shock her so much, but it does, nearly knocking her back with the force of the revelation.
Looking back up to thank Jason, she finds him already gone, slipped away with the door already shut again. She slides down into the chair to feed Lira then, her eyes falling closed as she leans down and brushes a kiss over her daughter's forehead to help soothe her to sleep, her mind spinning.
Who knows? The Manor might start to feel like home after all.
~*~*~*~