Fic: (Un)Invited | DCU | Bruce/Jason, Dick/Tim, Alfred | R(-ish) | 1/1
Title: (Un)Invited
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Bruce/Jason, Dick/Tim, Alfred, (past Bruce/Dick and Jason/Tim, side Cass/Steph)
Rating: R(-ish)
Word Count: 1,848
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Narcissus
Summary: When a certain someone shows up at the Manor, all Bruce wants to do is turn him away. But Tim needs Dick's help.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Twentieth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Spoken. Ladies and gentlefolk, this is the one I've been wanting to write ever since (Un)Loved! One more part in this mini-arc, and then it's on to new things, and new characters. ^_~ Seven more to the end now!
(Un)Invited
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Rising from the chair next to Tim's bed while the boy sleeps fitfully, Bruce insinuates himself between the man perched just outside the window and entrance to the room.
“What do you think?” His eyes unreadable behind the white lenses of his blue domino, Dick frowns. “Or do you not remember why you made me leave?”
Bruce crosses his arms over his chest, pretending his blood pressure isn't climbing just looking at his former partner, the same old dark desires and stubborn resistance alike rising in a flood. He thought they'd said their goodbyes, that Dick had been thoroughly warned off after what'd happened in Bruce's office.
A huff of impatience, and Dick moves closer to the window, leaving the security of midnight shadows as he lays a blue and black gloved hand on the sill. “You know he needs me, Bruce. I could hear him all the way in Blüdhaven!”
But Bruce still doesn't budge. There's been enough upheaval in his growing family over the last few months, and Dick returning under the guise of offering a helping hand is simply one thing too many. They don't need him, and he doesn't need them, especially considering the way he'd been affected after that afternoon tryst. Bruce won't allow it to happen again; his once-bright boy shouldn't be stained by their... their utter darkness. At least one of his boys should be allowed to escape all this unscathed.
“You're just gonna stand there and glare at me aren't you?”
“Yes.” He doesn't hesitate. Maybe.
Finally sagging with what looks like resignation, Dick perches on the window sill and frowns again. “This isn't about you and me, Bruce. You have to know that. I'm not here to try to get into your bed, and I'm not about to let a little darkness stop me from helping where I'm needed, either. Not anymore. Considering where I've been living? I don't need protecting,” he asserts. And with just the hint of a raise of one sweeping eyebrow, he goes on, “Do you even have any idea what's wrong with him? Do you?”
Bruce scowls. Of course he does. Tim is... sick. Finally, he shifts just slightly from one foot to the other and sighs. “The sorceress did something wrong, and she can't seem to fix it. She's calling in others to help.”
Scoffing, Dick shakes his head. “You really don't know. The boy's had his mind ripped wide open! Whatever Zee did left a wound the size of Gotham, and every stray thought within a hundred yards is flowing in completely unchecked.” At Bruce's furrowed brow, he sighs exaggeratedly. “It's like he had a band-aid ripped off, that took the whole scab with it. The bond he'd developed-and I know it was a soul bond, with the way he's been screaming about Jason; hell, I can feel it-it was stripped away as violently as if he'd had his skin flayed off.”
He shouldn't be surprised, but Bruce can't help flinching at the graphic description of what's happened to his boy. It's... worse than he thought. Closing his eyes, he lets out a slow breath. “Tim,” he says, voice rough, tired. “His name is Tim.”
“I know,” Dick replies softly.
Blinking as his chest tightens with unexpected grief, Bruce steps away from the window, letting the light in at last. “How can you help him?”
~*~*~*~
When Jason sniffs the air, nostrils flaring as he meets him outside the door to Tim's room, Bruce knows what's coming.
“I smelled him from all the way down in the Cave, Bruce. What the fuck?”
Bruce sighs, reaches up to rub at his temples where a tension headache is starting, then grips Jason's bicep to lead him away from Tim's room. “It's a long story, Jay.”
But Jason only pulls out of his grasp, seeming rooted to the spot, and crosses his arms over his chest the same way Bruce had when Dick came to the window. “So tell me.”
“Not here.”
A raised eyebrow, and Jay sneers, his nostrils flaring again. “Why the hell not?”
“Because,” Bruce starts, his shoulders falling. He just doesn't have the energy for this, dammit. “Tim needs Dick's help. And we're a distraction.”
“Why? What the hell can your golden boy do to help? He doesn't belong here among us lowly mortals,” Jay practically snarls, his tone laced with deep-set rage and jealousy, and Bruce knows his Wolf is fighting the urge to just barge in and tear Dick to shreds for so much as daring to set foot in the Manor.
Somehow, it's a relief to see Jason so wound up, rather than hissing in pain or screaming for Tim; he'd missed the young man that once growled at him from the Cave floor, barely more human than animal. But this isn't the time or place for it. They need to give Tim and Dick as much space as possible, and there'll be plenty of time to deal with Jason's insecurities later. For now, though, Bruce can at least douse the flames.
With a nod and a stern look, he gestures for Jay to follow him away from the room, and when his boy reluctantly complies with the order and they're both further down the hallway, he pulls him in for a hard kiss, relieved when Jason responds, sharp nails pressing into the skin over his ribs. He holds Jay for a while, arms clinging tightly, then draws back just enough to look his Wolf in the eyes, resting their foreheads against one another.
“I didn't invite him, if that's what you thought. Dick showed up on his own. And he's not anyone's 'golden boy'. He isn't some perfect tree sprite from the forest, and he knows it as well as Alfred and I do. He simply has... abilities. He could hear Tim's thoughts loud and clear, and he knows what to do to make him better.”
Jason's anger appears to drain away gradually at that, the tension in his jaw easing just enough, and after a moment he asks, “So he knows what's wrong?”
Bruce nods just slightly. “Madame Zee,” he spits, “screwed up royally, and Tim's mind is out of control. He's become a full-blown telepath, Jason, that's why he was so frightened.”
Body sagging with what looks like the same grief that Bruce felt, Jason melts into his arms and tucks his head into the crook of Bruce's neck. “I didn't... didn't mean for that to happen.”
“I know. And Tim knows. It'll be all right,” Bruce says, attempting to soothe them both. “Come on, let's go see if Alfred has any coffee brewed. I have a feeling it'll be a long night.”
A long breath, and Jason nods against his shoulder.
~*~*~*~
Watching the sun rise through the windows of the kitchen, Bruce sips his coffee and tries to squash the feeling of helplessness that hasn't left his chest since all this started, weeks ago, all his efforts to date having gone to waste. It's been hours since he left Dick with Tim, the young man waking the boy with just a touch to his forehead, and there hasn't been any sign of success or failure since then.
Just as he'd figured.
Now the rest of the household is up and seated around the large table, Jason and Bruce on their third cups of coffee while the girls dig into the waffles that Alfred has prepared, the baby gurgling around mouthfuls of whatever that yellow baby food is, and the air is... more tense than Bruce would like. Everyone knows by now what they're all waiting for, that Dick is their last chance to bring Tim back, that-
Steph pauses with a forkful of waffles halfway to her open mouth, blinking as she stares at the entryway to the kitchen, and Bruce's breath catches in his throat, his pulse hammering in his ears.
Turning in his chair as everyone's focus shifts to the doorway, he follows Steph's gaze.
“He'll be okay,” Dick says, his fey eyes tired as he stands there in borrowed clothes that Alfred must have provided. Tim is tucked in close to his side, dark hair hiding his own eyes as he clings, skittish, and the two are such a matched pair, it's striking.
A breath of relief escapes Bruce before he can stop it, the sentiment seemingly echoed around the table, and he asks, “Are you sure?”
Dick nods. “Yes. It was touch and go for a while, but he's made enough progress to keep most of the noise out. With my help.”
Bruce realizes then that Dick is looking... fidgety, those slightly-dulled eyes not quite making contact, and it stirs a new sense of dread in his gut. “What is it?”
“I... I need to stay with him,” the young man answers, arm tightening around Tim's shoulders. “At least for a while. Right now, I'm basically holding the barriers up for him. He's still got a long way to go, and only training will help him get there.”
Training. Of course.
Feeling Jason tense next to him, the very idea of Dick staying in the Manor again likely an anathema to him, Bruce reaches over to squeeze his hand, gaze fixed on his first partner.
“How long?”
Dick frowns. “A few weeks, maybe longer. I know you don't want me here, so I can take Tim with me and bring him home when he's ready if you like.”
“Out of the question,” Bruce answers automatically as Jason growls beneath his breath, baring his teeth. “He doesn't leave this house. I took him in; he's my responsibility.”
He's about to go on, when Jason cuts him off. “The kid's our responsibility.”
Bruce turns his eyes on his Wolf, sees the internal war waging in his expression, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he battles himself. It's... surprising.
“You screw him up worse, and you're gone. Got it, Dickie?” Jason snarls, spitting Dick's name with venom and utter loathing.
A moment of tense silence, only a round of shocked breaths drawn in marking the moment, and Dick returns a small, weak smile. “Got it.”
Grateful, relieved, to have the decision taken out of his hands, Bruce sighs quietly and lets his eyes slide shut. He never expected Jason to have such a change of heart, not with the wild jealousy-over Bruce, over Tim-still dancing in his eyes, but the trust that he's displaying now is such a welcome thing that Bruce can't help feeling the load on his shoulders eased, if fractionally.
He's not sure he deserves it, but it's a solid step forward for them. For all of them.
When a throat clears on the other side of the kitchen then, all eyes turn to Alfred, the family retainer standing by patiently. “Shall I make up the room next to Master Timothy's, sir?”
Bruce nods. “Yes, please.”
“Very well.” Turning to Dick, he offers that polite British smile that has always spoken volumes to Bruce. “If I may say so, welcome back, Master Richard,” he says, then promptly vanishes.
He won't say it out loud, but in a way, and even though this whole situation has explosive potential beyond even those first few weeks that Tim was in the house, Bruce is relieved that Dick is here-home-too, no matter what brought him.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Bruce/Jason, Dick/Tim, Alfred, (past Bruce/Dick and Jason/Tim, side Cass/Steph)
Rating: R(-ish)
Word Count: 1,848
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Narcissus
Summary: When a certain someone shows up at the Manor, all Bruce wants to do is turn him away. But Tim needs Dick's help.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Twentieth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Spoken. Ladies and gentlefolk, this is the one I've been wanting to write ever since (Un)Loved! One more part in this mini-arc, and then it's on to new things, and new characters. ^_~ Seven more to the end now!
(Un)Invited
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Rising from the chair next to Tim's bed while the boy sleeps fitfully, Bruce insinuates himself between the man perched just outside the window and entrance to the room.
“What do you think?” His eyes unreadable behind the white lenses of his blue domino, Dick frowns. “Or do you not remember why you made me leave?”
Bruce crosses his arms over his chest, pretending his blood pressure isn't climbing just looking at his former partner, the same old dark desires and stubborn resistance alike rising in a flood. He thought they'd said their goodbyes, that Dick had been thoroughly warned off after what'd happened in Bruce's office.
A huff of impatience, and Dick moves closer to the window, leaving the security of midnight shadows as he lays a blue and black gloved hand on the sill. “You know he needs me, Bruce. I could hear him all the way in Blüdhaven!”
But Bruce still doesn't budge. There's been enough upheaval in his growing family over the last few months, and Dick returning under the guise of offering a helping hand is simply one thing too many. They don't need him, and he doesn't need them, especially considering the way he'd been affected after that afternoon tryst. Bruce won't allow it to happen again; his once-bright boy shouldn't be stained by their... their utter darkness. At least one of his boys should be allowed to escape all this unscathed.
“You're just gonna stand there and glare at me aren't you?”
“Yes.” He doesn't hesitate. Maybe.
Finally sagging with what looks like resignation, Dick perches on the window sill and frowns again. “This isn't about you and me, Bruce. You have to know that. I'm not here to try to get into your bed, and I'm not about to let a little darkness stop me from helping where I'm needed, either. Not anymore. Considering where I've been living? I don't need protecting,” he asserts. And with just the hint of a raise of one sweeping eyebrow, he goes on, “Do you even have any idea what's wrong with him? Do you?”
Bruce scowls. Of course he does. Tim is... sick. Finally, he shifts just slightly from one foot to the other and sighs. “The sorceress did something wrong, and she can't seem to fix it. She's calling in others to help.”
Scoffing, Dick shakes his head. “You really don't know. The boy's had his mind ripped wide open! Whatever Zee did left a wound the size of Gotham, and every stray thought within a hundred yards is flowing in completely unchecked.” At Bruce's furrowed brow, he sighs exaggeratedly. “It's like he had a band-aid ripped off, that took the whole scab with it. The bond he'd developed-and I know it was a soul bond, with the way he's been screaming about Jason; hell, I can feel it-it was stripped away as violently as if he'd had his skin flayed off.”
He shouldn't be surprised, but Bruce can't help flinching at the graphic description of what's happened to his boy. It's... worse than he thought. Closing his eyes, he lets out a slow breath. “Tim,” he says, voice rough, tired. “His name is Tim.”
“I know,” Dick replies softly.
Blinking as his chest tightens with unexpected grief, Bruce steps away from the window, letting the light in at last. “How can you help him?”
~*~*~*~
When Jason sniffs the air, nostrils flaring as he meets him outside the door to Tim's room, Bruce knows what's coming.
“I smelled him from all the way down in the Cave, Bruce. What the fuck?”
Bruce sighs, reaches up to rub at his temples where a tension headache is starting, then grips Jason's bicep to lead him away from Tim's room. “It's a long story, Jay.”
But Jason only pulls out of his grasp, seeming rooted to the spot, and crosses his arms over his chest the same way Bruce had when Dick came to the window. “So tell me.”
“Not here.”
A raised eyebrow, and Jay sneers, his nostrils flaring again. “Why the hell not?”
“Because,” Bruce starts, his shoulders falling. He just doesn't have the energy for this, dammit. “Tim needs Dick's help. And we're a distraction.”
“Why? What the hell can your golden boy do to help? He doesn't belong here among us lowly mortals,” Jay practically snarls, his tone laced with deep-set rage and jealousy, and Bruce knows his Wolf is fighting the urge to just barge in and tear Dick to shreds for so much as daring to set foot in the Manor.
Somehow, it's a relief to see Jason so wound up, rather than hissing in pain or screaming for Tim; he'd missed the young man that once growled at him from the Cave floor, barely more human than animal. But this isn't the time or place for it. They need to give Tim and Dick as much space as possible, and there'll be plenty of time to deal with Jason's insecurities later. For now, though, Bruce can at least douse the flames.
With a nod and a stern look, he gestures for Jay to follow him away from the room, and when his boy reluctantly complies with the order and they're both further down the hallway, he pulls him in for a hard kiss, relieved when Jason responds, sharp nails pressing into the skin over his ribs. He holds Jay for a while, arms clinging tightly, then draws back just enough to look his Wolf in the eyes, resting their foreheads against one another.
“I didn't invite him, if that's what you thought. Dick showed up on his own. And he's not anyone's 'golden boy'. He isn't some perfect tree sprite from the forest, and he knows it as well as Alfred and I do. He simply has... abilities. He could hear Tim's thoughts loud and clear, and he knows what to do to make him better.”
Jason's anger appears to drain away gradually at that, the tension in his jaw easing just enough, and after a moment he asks, “So he knows what's wrong?”
Bruce nods just slightly. “Madame Zee,” he spits, “screwed up royally, and Tim's mind is out of control. He's become a full-blown telepath, Jason, that's why he was so frightened.”
Body sagging with what looks like the same grief that Bruce felt, Jason melts into his arms and tucks his head into the crook of Bruce's neck. “I didn't... didn't mean for that to happen.”
“I know. And Tim knows. It'll be all right,” Bruce says, attempting to soothe them both. “Come on, let's go see if Alfred has any coffee brewed. I have a feeling it'll be a long night.”
A long breath, and Jason nods against his shoulder.
~*~*~*~
Watching the sun rise through the windows of the kitchen, Bruce sips his coffee and tries to squash the feeling of helplessness that hasn't left his chest since all this started, weeks ago, all his efforts to date having gone to waste. It's been hours since he left Dick with Tim, the young man waking the boy with just a touch to his forehead, and there hasn't been any sign of success or failure since then.
Just as he'd figured.
Now the rest of the household is up and seated around the large table, Jason and Bruce on their third cups of coffee while the girls dig into the waffles that Alfred has prepared, the baby gurgling around mouthfuls of whatever that yellow baby food is, and the air is... more tense than Bruce would like. Everyone knows by now what they're all waiting for, that Dick is their last chance to bring Tim back, that-
Steph pauses with a forkful of waffles halfway to her open mouth, blinking as she stares at the entryway to the kitchen, and Bruce's breath catches in his throat, his pulse hammering in his ears.
Turning in his chair as everyone's focus shifts to the doorway, he follows Steph's gaze.
“He'll be okay,” Dick says, his fey eyes tired as he stands there in borrowed clothes that Alfred must have provided. Tim is tucked in close to his side, dark hair hiding his own eyes as he clings, skittish, and the two are such a matched pair, it's striking.
A breath of relief escapes Bruce before he can stop it, the sentiment seemingly echoed around the table, and he asks, “Are you sure?”
Dick nods. “Yes. It was touch and go for a while, but he's made enough progress to keep most of the noise out. With my help.”
Bruce realizes then that Dick is looking... fidgety, those slightly-dulled eyes not quite making contact, and it stirs a new sense of dread in his gut. “What is it?”
“I... I need to stay with him,” the young man answers, arm tightening around Tim's shoulders. “At least for a while. Right now, I'm basically holding the barriers up for him. He's still got a long way to go, and only training will help him get there.”
Training. Of course.
Feeling Jason tense next to him, the very idea of Dick staying in the Manor again likely an anathema to him, Bruce reaches over to squeeze his hand, gaze fixed on his first partner.
“How long?”
Dick frowns. “A few weeks, maybe longer. I know you don't want me here, so I can take Tim with me and bring him home when he's ready if you like.”
“Out of the question,” Bruce answers automatically as Jason growls beneath his breath, baring his teeth. “He doesn't leave this house. I took him in; he's my responsibility.”
He's about to go on, when Jason cuts him off. “The kid's our responsibility.”
Bruce turns his eyes on his Wolf, sees the internal war waging in his expression, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he battles himself. It's... surprising.
“You screw him up worse, and you're gone. Got it, Dickie?” Jason snarls, spitting Dick's name with venom and utter loathing.
A moment of tense silence, only a round of shocked breaths drawn in marking the moment, and Dick returns a small, weak smile. “Got it.”
Grateful, relieved, to have the decision taken out of his hands, Bruce sighs quietly and lets his eyes slide shut. He never expected Jason to have such a change of heart, not with the wild jealousy-over Bruce, over Tim-still dancing in his eyes, but the trust that he's displaying now is such a welcome thing that Bruce can't help feeling the load on his shoulders eased, if fractionally.
He's not sure he deserves it, but it's a solid step forward for them. For all of them.
When a throat clears on the other side of the kitchen then, all eyes turn to Alfred, the family retainer standing by patiently. “Shall I make up the room next to Master Timothy's, sir?”
Bruce nods. “Yes, please.”
“Very well.” Turning to Dick, he offers that polite British smile that has always spoken volumes to Bruce. “If I may say so, welcome back, Master Richard,” he says, then promptly vanishes.
He won't say it out loud, but in a way, and even though this whole situation has explosive potential beyond even those first few weeks that Tim was in the house, Bruce is relieved that Dick is here-home-too, no matter what brought him.
~*~*~*~