The sight of all the food Alfred had prepared was intimidating and strange, but that was only because it took a moment for Bruce to fully catch up with the fact that there were *six* people eating, rather than one.

With that in mind, Alfred had once again managed to prepare enough food to *perfectly* satisfy their needs for a light pre-patrol -- and pre-terribly-invasive-therapy -- meal --
 
Though both Jason and Stephanie had looked for more before grinning ruefully at each other and standing to go stretch.

The rest of them had eaten far more slowly -- Alfred would call it 'decorously' -- before moving to their own duties. Harvey had expressed some measure of trepidation about using the computers to work on the case files Jim had sent, and Tim had immediately broken off his own stretches to go to help. Dick --

Dick learns with a rapidity which would inspire fear in someone entirely other than Bruce.

Dick's smiles are knowing and sharp, wide and bright, soft and open --

Right now, Dick's smile is expectant and possibly even impatient, and Bruce realizes that he has simply been taking *in* everyone here for at least two minutes.

Bruce moves to join Dick on the mats, and then simply to follow Dick. "You have my apologies. I never imagined this place so full."

"You told me once that *I* was enough to fill the Cave."

"I imagine --"

"I thought you were crazy then. Are you crazy now...?" Another bladed smile, something to wound -- but only with pleasure.

"If I say yes, will you let J'onn work on me?"

Dick wags his head back and forth -- "Maybe, yeah. This place has always needed a family. A *big* family."

That -- "Would you tell me of your family?"

Dick throws his head back and almost *shouts* laughter -- "You almost got me, Bruce. I had the first sentence all ready to *go* -- and that sentence would've told you all you needed to know in order to *save* the life I used to have." Dick waggles his finger at him.

"I -- I truly only wished to know if you had *siblings*, Dick --"

"Ooh, that's a *terrible* lie, boss," and Dick hisses between his teeth. "Just for that? I *won't* let Tim nibble on your dick when it's his turn."

Bruce grunts -- "It was. It was a lie. I still --"

"Those questions are off-limits."

"You've allowed both Harvey and me a large number of details about all of your lives --"

Dick hums. "So I might as well give up the goods...?"

All right, that sounds asinine, but -- "It -- *this* -- is my nature."

Dick's smile softens dramatically -- and he leans in to bite Bruce's lower lip. It's neither vicious nor teasing. Rather, it's an act of decidedly *violent* affection, and a part of Bruce only wishes to know from whom Dick had learned it.

He raises an eyebrow --

And Dick laughs at him. "Boss. Look at the life I have. The life I *built* with the help of all of these wonderful, beautiful, desired and desiring people. *Look* at it."

"I *have*, Dick."

Dick frowns and pulls back --

"Oh. Don't --"

"You haven't looked, Bruce. Not enough. But I promise that that will *change* before I let you go."

*Bruce* frowns. "I -- you wish to change me?"

Dick turns and walks on, raising one finger -- "One thing, boss. Just one."

"For the opportunity to have... this."

Dick sighs, but doesn't turn around until they reach the uniforms. "Oh, yes. Now let's get you into one of these without killing ourselves."

"The traps are *deadly*?"

An airy wave of the hand. "A figure of speech. Though the electrical charge will take you out of commission for most of a night and give you *such* a burn," Dick says, and there's something febrile under his voice. Something --

"You're not meeting my eyes."

Dick looks up away from the utility belt -- but his eyes are closed. "I've never wanted to lie to you, and I've *definitely* never wanted to *hide* anything from you --"

"Then *don't* --"

"*Bruce*," Dick says, and that's almost certainly his command voice -- "Ultimately, I would rather spend a -- guaranteed -- limited amount of time living in conflict with my own heart than risk another world -- another *Dick* -- not having all of this."

Bruce frowns again. "Dick, I can't decide whether I should find that horrifying or noble --"

"Then my work here is... heh. Well begun. Strip."

Bruce does so, and they spend the next ten minutes going over and over what the suit can and cannot do for him. After that, Dick painstakingly refills the pockets of the belt with everything which could have reasonably aged beyond its usefulness, and then leads Bruce through twelve different katas from several different schools of martial arts.

After *that*, Dick flows through eighteen different stretches at a speed which only *seems* too fast for the stretches to be effective. When he suits up, he seems to almost become someone else entirely, someone whose smiles could never be anything but sharp, whose entire *humor* is something dangerous, only to be wielded by someone *trusted*.

There are parts of Bruce which don't want to trust Robin, at all, but those parts can be quieted with the simple fact that Robin had shown him nothing that would suggest he was unfit for the streets.

For the *Mission* --

Even though he's killed.

Even though he's dooming his family -- whoever they were -- to a fate --

Bruce doesn't know their fate. He knows what's right and what's wrong --

And he's known for a very long time that he would not always be able to count on the allies he found in this war sharing all of his beliefs.

(They should be more than simply *allies* --)

Robin looks at him through the blank eyeholes of the mask and there's something almost terrible about it. Bruce can barely see the beautiful, loving, and *hurt* man he'd made love with this morning, and that --

Of course they *should* be as professional as possible right now --

"Bruce...?"

Has his name ever been more of a relief?

Once, hearing 'Batman' had felt like that, as if Bruce was someone to wear only until the *right* time had been reached --

He sees, now, that that was a terrible lie, and a crime against himself. "Dick... it's only that I needed to see you --"

"And not Robin...?" Dick smiles softly again and comes close, touching Bruce's cheek with a gauntleted hand. "I'll tell you a secret, boss..."

"Yes. Please --"

"*Robin* wants to tell you everything. *Robin* could never go against your orders -- or even your *requests*. *Robin*... is a very good boy. Now and forever."

Bruce frowns. "And Dick is not?"

Dick shakes his head. "No. Not anymore. I'm sorry," he says, and steps back, gesturing --

And Cardinal is at Bruce's side, solemn and dark as blood -- no. His lenses are up, and there is 'Tink' in the flash of his grey-blue eyes. A promise --

"Start near Owl's territory, Cardinal, and report in on the hours."

"Aye-aye, cap'n."

Robin stares at Cardinal --

'Tinkerbell,' of all *things* --

Tim?

The boy is all of those things and none as he cocks his hip and purses his small, soft-looking lips -- 

No, that's the lipstick he's wearing, which is subtle enough -- when compared to his uniform -- that it almost blends with his complexion --

Which has been shifted -- enhanced? -- by some degree of *foundation* --

Robin laughs suddenly, hard and *intense* -- and then it becomes one of Dick's laughs, which are often musical and sweet. "All right, fine, you win. I'm *here*. What do you need?"

The boy looks down, and the small amount of skin that shows on the back of his neck is flushed pink.

Tim, then, and Tim *must* be the heart of him. If he wasn't, then he wouldn't be able to crack Dick's facade so easily and perfectly. Dick crouches in front of Tim -- "Tell me --"

"I -- ah. It was disconcerting not to see you," he says, and his voice is *small* --

"Oh... little brother. You shouldn't tempt me with --" Dick shakes his head --

And Tim looks up immediately, shrewd and quick -- he nods. "I promise you, Dick -- I'll always have issues you can hug out of me. Or other things."

Dick parts his lips and breathes deeply -- staring and searching --

He *pants* and Bruce feels himself thicken with want for this, *too*. *All* --

Dick growls and stands. "Go. Before I ruin your... mm. Finish."

Tim bites his own lip *carefully* -- "Yes... big brother."

Dick flashes his teeth --

And then Tim's hand is clutching his own, and Bruce is being tugged toward the cars and bikes.

Bruce can feel Dick's eyes on them as they go.

He --

Yes.

Tim leads them to the one simply *black* (as opposed to red, gold, or green) car which is in position to be driven out of the Cave --

And the air itself seems torn in the wake of Jason's and Stephanie's bikes as they peel out at speed. Stephanie's bike appears new -- and its colors complement her uniform where they don't simply match --

And a metallic tinkle and clink reminds him to look down at Tim, who is dangling a set of keys -- on a keychain carved to look like the bat on Bruce's chest. It's not so strange -- already, in his universe, some entrepreneurs had begun selling merchandise with versions of the bat stamped or carved or painted on --

It seems surreal to have such a thing *here*, though. Bruce strokes the thing lightly and tries to imagine a life where --

Where all of this is true, and real, and as correct as a young boy's maquillage.

Bruce gestures Tim to the passenger side and opens the doors, slipping in --

"Fourth button, third row," Tim says.

Bruce pushes it -- and they're both restrained. "Hm."

"Yes...?"

"Did you not trust me to learn how to use the seatbelts?"

Tim smiles at him brightly and --

"Wait," Bruce says, and uses the thumb of the gauntlet to wipe the small smear of lipstick from Tim's left central incisor --

"Oh --" And Tim pulls a wipe from his pocket for Bruce's thumb. "Thank you. I usually check the mirror right before I go, but... ah. Well." He's blushing under his foundation.

He's terribly young and *strange* --

Not so strange that he can't be understood. Not so --

So young --

"Um. I should go over -- ah. Everything?"

"Would you tell me..." Bruce frowns at himself. "No, never mind --"

"No! Ah -- ask. Please?"

The boy --

Tim is very beautiful, even with his wide eyes mostly hidden, even with his face painted --

"Would you tell me what it looks like when I stare while wearing the cowl?"

Tim blinks at him. "Ah... hm."

"You weren't expecting that question."

Tim's expression quirks, making him seem far more womanly than he usually does.

Bruce doesn't have the faintest idea of how that particular calculus is being managed within his own mind. Still -- "It's all right. It wasn't an important question --"

"Ah -- no, actually, I believe it was. You're feeling... some degree of difficulty about where to draw the line between Bruce and Batman? Is 'Bruce Wayne' a part of that equation?"

The mathematics of identity. To share *that* with this boy... Bruce breathes deeply --

"Should I take that as a yes?"

"Yes."

Tim closes his mouth and hums, nodding to himself and seeking -- ah, something behind his own eyes.

Bruce waits, and familiarizes himself with the car's controls. Everything is labeled well enough. A dark droplet for the oil slick, a spiked star for caltrops, a cloud for smoke, an oddly sleek-looking computer for autopilot...

Yes, it's all quite clear, as it would have to be for emergencies. This universe's Bruce had no idea when he would have to relinquish the car's controls to his partner, and so he had made sure they wouldn't *have* to be memorized.

Bruce strokes the steering wheel lightly -- and a recessed button comes to hand. "Tim --"

"That's the button that automatically moves the driver's seat into the proper position for Dick to drive it."

Pressing it now -- or ever while he's driving -- would thus be the cause of near-immediate regret.

The seats are also made to be *ejected*, judging by the buttons on the console between driver's and passenger's sides --

Bruce has no doubt that every single one of these measures had either made their lives easier, or *would* have made their lives easier had they been available at the times in question --

"I -- I'm still thinking."

"You don't need to give me an answer immediately, or at all --"

"I know that. But -- I used to dream about talking with you," Tim says, in the quiet voice he's been using with him since the slash --

"You... are you... intimidated by me in some way?"

"Hnn. You're a foot taller and over a hundred pounds heavier than I am," and his voice is much less quiet.

Bruce hums. "You're fully aware that that's not what I meant when I asked the question."

"Well. Best to get that sort of thing out of the way."

"Is it?"

"I..." Tim sighs. "All right, I'm at something of a loss with you, to be honest."

"Please, tell me."

"We're not going to have *any* problems working together once we're out there, because we're both professionals."

"Yes."

"However... you're nothing like what I expected. Even after hearing Dick's stories of the warm, loving, kind, and intricately *perverse* man who had been his first lover and *partner* -- I wasn't prepared for you. You're... younger."

"Yes."

"You -- and you're actually holding yourself *back* a little right now because you think I'll say something hurtful. I hate that. I -- I never really want to say hurtful things, and sometimes it just happens anyway," Tim says, and frowns. "Jay has been immensely educational in terms of keeping that from happening randomly, but I still mess it up -- perhaps you're correct to be cautious."

"I would like for neither of us to be cautious," Bruce says, carefully and clearly as he can --

"Hnn. Ooh. That sounded like you were thinking something *filthy*."

Bruce blinks behind the cowl --

Tim sighs. "And then there's *that* issue. I -- look. When I'm attracted to someone as much as I'm attracted to you, I let them *know*. I touch them, I hit on them, I gaze deeply into their eyes and show my teeth *just* so, I make comments about the welcoming nature of my rectum -- er, that usually comes later --"

"Are you... at all attracted to women?"

"I. I'm sort of in love with Steph. I think. I mean, I can't actually imagine making love with her, but I'd like for it to happen someday just the same. Somehow. She's the only female person I've felt this way about."

Bruce nods. He could see that in the way they looked at each other. It's different from how Tim and Jason relate to one another, but the intensity is quite similar. "Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome. And that's the other thing -- wait, no, I'm not done with the last thing," and Tim blows out an irritated breath. "I can't figure out how to -- I mean, I know how to be with Jason and Dick and all the others when I want to make love. I know how to *relate* to them, because they've *told* me how. And the others... well, I tell them how to relate to *me*. They're not -- quite -- family."

"Would you like me to tell you how to relate to me?"

Tim looks *pained* --

"Or -- we could speak about something else --"

"Oh -- God, that's the other thing. The other, other --" Tim growls and starts to reach for his hair -- he stops and lowers his hands to his lap. "You can't be afraid of me. Not -- not of *me*, Bruce!"

Bruce -- doesn't lick his lips. "If you're sure."

Tim snorts, reaches to cover the lower half of his face -- and then brings his hand back to his lap. "Don't *do* that when I'm trying to be beautiful!"

"I --"

The red car pulls out ahead of them, and the windows are tinted too darkly to be sure of anything, including whether or not Dick is wondering what they're doing. Of course, *their* windows are *also* tinted that darkly --

Bruce shakes his head and turns back to Tim. "I've found you beautiful since the first time I was near enough to you to observe you clearly."

"I -- oh."

"I want you to be comfortable with me. I -- I'm very curious about you --"

"Yes, well, I'm *odd* --"

"Yes. And also obviously quite brilliant," Bruce says, and covers Tim's hand with his own. "Would you like to make love --"

"*Yes* --"

"We. Not now --"

"*No*, not now, but -- ah. Soon. Hopefully very soon, and I want -- I want you not to be afraid of me."

"I promise to try --"

"And I want you to -- to keep being interested in me --"

"Yes."

"And I'm not sure if I want you to be this agreeable."

Bruce licks his lips. He suspects *he'd* look deeply pained were Tim able to peek beneath the cowl. "All... ah. Hm."

Tim glares at him for a moment -- and then giggles, bright and young.

"You're lovely."

"And odd."

"Yes. I'd like to know you. To know your... facets."

"Ooh, I love a man who talks *jewelry*..."

"Do you?"

"No, not really. Well. I am thinking of piercing myself some few places, but *I'll* choose the actual jewelry... not that I couldn't be convinced..." Tim frowns and looks down at their hands. "Sometimes I think I became Tinkerbell to shut Jay up. Other times I think I did it because I knew it would make Jay as crazy for me as I was for him. *Other* times I think I did it because it's the real me -- especially because Tink lies so *much*. Still other times... I think I did it because it's easier to be Tink than to think about... about maybe being a woman," Tim says, and his voice is small again. His *self* is small again --

"Tim, there's nothing wrong with your feelings --"

"I *know* that -- mostly," and his smile is a rueful one. "And I also know that wouldn't have been especially easy to say if I didn't know you'd be leaving us sooner rather than later. I... I'm a little confused is what I think I'm saying."

Bruce nods. "I'm making it worse."

"*No* -- well. Yes, actually. I've had so many *fantasies* about you, and so many of them have the potential of coming true, but it's all so *different*. I mean, with Jay, I didn't have as much *time* to build up fantasies."

"And with Dick?"

"Dick -- Dick is a fantasy *walking*. I never managed to come up with *coherent* fantasies about him which didn't fall apart into a series of images and sense-memories at first... ah... stroke."

Bruce turns Tim's hand and rubs what he hopes is a soothing circle against his palm --

Tim moans and yanks his hand *away* --

"I'm sorry --"

"No, it's. Ah. That's one of the -- that's an *aspect* of one of the fantasies I've had about you. That touch."

Bruce touches his tongue to the backs of his teeth for the contact, the frustration -- but. He does not have to force Tim to be the only honest one. He can... he can be open, *too*. "Tell me," he says, and doesn't control the roughness of his tone --

"Oh, God. Um -- Bruce --"

"Tell me, Tim. Now."

Tim's flush is immediate, his lips part, and he rubs at his long, promising thighs.

"Tim."

"You -- we spar. And you throw me -- several times."

"Do you use your knives."

"No... not in this fantasy."

"All right. What happens then."

"You -- oh. You're making me want to lick my lips --"

"Don't," Bruce says, and tilts Tim's chin up to expose the small fraction of his neck which *can* be exposed.

"What -- *where* is this coming from --"

"You're teaching me how to relate to you. I am, on occasion, a fast learner."

Tim giggles for him again --

And Bruce smiles. "Tell me what happens next."

Tim moans --

Arches --

Sits back and sits straight. "You pin me when you realize -- somehow -- that I've lost the ability to fight back effectively. I try to get up anyway. You praise my instincts --"

"Yes."

"Oh -- ah. Yes. You can. You can smell me --"

"I enjoy the colognes you've worn. Tell me which one you're wearing in the fantasy."

Tim moans again, but doesn't slip in terms of his posture. He --

Bruce strokes Tim's cheek with rough, gauntleted fingers, gently enough that he won't smear the makeup. He wants more. He wants --

The image of himself holding Tim down is hardly unbidden, but still uncomfortably arousing. He should end this conversation or at least change the subject --

Is it rude for a gentleman to do something like that to a young woman? If the woman wishes to discuss sexuality, then surely the gentleman must accommodate her --

He's not supposed to be *agreeable*, but surely there's room for -- ah. This, Bruce thinks, and grips the back of Tim's neck. The collar of Tim's uniform is stiffened with something that would keep him from being choked by all but the strongest and most determined enemies, but --

Tim still moans and sighs for the touch, pushing back against Bruce's hand. "I'm sorry --"

"Tell me."

"It. It's hard. I." Tim looks down at his lap, clenching his jaw, and for a moment it's difficult to credit. What could be so embarrassing about the scent he'd choose to --

Unless it wasn't a chosen scent, at all. "In the fantasy, it's your own scent I enjoy."

"*Yes*," Tim says, and clenches his jaw even more tightly, because --

"You're a woman in that fantasy."

Tim shudders once, all over -- and then breathes out much of his tension. "Batman --"

"No. Not in this moment."

"*Ohn* -- Bruce. I. Most of my fantasies about you... um. It's just. It's just that Jay has always been so *clear* about liking me male, and Dick lets his female lovers *go*, and -- um. Yes."

"I enjoy your maleness, and the ways in which you express it --"

"I. Oh. I see --"

"I believe I would vastly enjoy making love with you, were you a woman."

Tim gasps lightly. "You -- yes?"

Bruce squeezes the back of Tim's neck as hard as he can without -- he hopes -- causing *much* in the way of pain --

"Bruce -- oh, Bruce --"

"Perhaps you will... dress for me."

"Yes -- *yes* --"

"Perhaps you will allow me to take you out somewhere --"

"You *can't*. You -- too many people would *recognize* you --"

"Then Alfred will serve us in the manor. The two of us... perhaps in the solarium."

Tim gulps lightly -- "I -- yes --"

"Perhaps you'll wear... Chanel number twenty-two."

Tim frowns. "Your mother wore that scent."

Should he be surprised that Tim knows so much about him? He'd been focused in hero-worship, dedicated to the point of using his natural intellect to develop skills which would allow him to know more, and more than that --

"I mean -- of course I will --"

"It's my favorite scent, Tim. And I am not unaware of the things that says about me."

Tim purses his lips and studies Bruce from under his lashes --

"Ask."

"Do I... resemble your mother?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow -- there's no way for Tim to see it --

Tim blushes anyway. "I -- it's an honest question. To some extent. You were close enough to her that the resemblance between us might seem terribly shallow."

Bruce nods once and gives himself permission to stroke the outline of Tim's mask, the shell of his ear --

"Please -- please."

"Tell me."

"I think. Um. I might need to -- come. Before I can be useful --"

Bruce grunts and presses the button to release the restraints --

Tim lifts the center console out of the way -- "Please, Bruce --"

"I believe you could resemble my mother greatly with the right shades of makeup and style for your hair. She was... quite petite."

"I -- I can walk very well in heels --"

"I want you in silk," Bruce says, and reaches for Tim's belt -- pauses. "Remove the belt and lower your. Bare yourself for me."

Tim groans and does just that. It takes a full two minutes -- his hands are shaking badly -- but he manages. His penis rises straight and dark from the artificially and fascinatingly neat triangle of his pubic hair. His scrotum is lightly fuzzed with hair, and, perhaps, slightly small for his age. He --

Bruce turns in his seat and pushes Tim's tunic up and his briefs further down -- hm. It seemed as though the others wore oddly tight boxers. "Do you wish you were wearing women's panties?"

"Some. Sometimes."

"You pretend at other times."

A moan -- "Yes, Bruce --"

"You're beautiful."

"Thank you, Bruce --"

"I want. I want to take you --"

Tim arches up off the seat, seemingly trying to *reach* Bruce with his body -- "I -- I'm not... very tight --"

"No, you wouldn't be. It would, perhaps, be difficult to hurt you."

Tim whimpers and shakes his head. "Jay. Jay hurts me."

The images for that -- "Does he. Are you on your hands and knees," and Bruce strokes the underside of Tim's penis with his gauntleted finger --

Tim cries out, penis twitching *wildly* for a moment --

"You tempt me... reason is smoke," Bruce says, and curls his finger around the base of Tim's penis. "Answer me."

"He likes it -- usually when he hurts me, we're up on our knees together. He thrusts up --"

"And pulls you down."

"Yes, Bruce."

Bruce nods and squeezes with his finger--

"*Ahn* --"

"I will take you that way... unless you have any notable objections."

"I want -- no. No, Bruce," Tim says, shaking his head and beginning to *slowly* pump his hips --

"What do you want."

"It's not -- important --"

"Would Jason allow that answer."

Tim whimpers and pants -- "N-no..."

"Then what do you want," and Bruce begins tugging lightly with his curled finger, squeezing on alternate tugs --

"Oh -- *God*. That shouldn't even -- Clark said that you were a *virgin* --"

"You spoke to him...?"

"He -- ah. I took a small break from study hall to... catch up with him. Um."

"Did he touch you."

"I. I. It was too soon after Dick --"

"Did you want him to touch you."

Tim moans and tries to thrust in the opposite rhythm to Bruce's tugs.

"Was that a yes...?"

Tim tosses his head -- stops and glares at him, hot and *dark* -- "You -- when and where you remember that question marks are available --"

Bruce squeezes *hard* --

Tim cries out, eyes widening in the shadows of the mask -- "I. I did! I wanted him to fuck me right there in the bathroom --"

"I'm experimenting. These... I've imagined these touches from a lover."

"Oh -- of course -- I can't think of *Batman* having fantasies --"

"He dreams of justice," Bruce says, and wants to kiss, to lick Tim's sharp-boned cheeks --

"Right, of course, I'm sorry --"

"I dream of... flesh. Touch. Heat..." His ear. He can -- Bruce leans in and nuzzles Tim there. Dick had bitten Jason --

He can do the same, of course --

How is it an 'of course?' There's a temptation to laugh at himself, there's another to remove Tim from the car and drive into Gotham on his own, to bury his emotions and hungers in violence, justified violence --

The strongest temptation is to suck hard enough on the lobe of Tim's ear that it may, perhaps, *feel* like a bite, and he's allowed to, he's --

He'll never offer *hurt* unless it's desired --

These beautiful young ones --

Tim.

Bruce sucks, very hard --

Tim moans for him and shakes more, clutching at Bruce's arm -- "*Please* --"

Bruce pulls back --

"*Nnh* -- Bruce, oh, Bruce, I'm *close* --"

Bruce grunts and breathes, ignoring the pain from his jock, ignoring everything but this beautiful *boy* --

Girl?

"Tell me what you want. What... what you didn't say before."

Tim whimpers -- "Oh, please, hold me, my -- my penis --"

Bruce changes his grip immediately --

"Thank you, Bruce, I -- I want -- I've thought about being on my hands and knees for you --"

"Even though it wouldn't hurt as much...?"

"You're *bigger* than Jay, you -- Dick showed me on a sex toy site."

Bruce... doesn't cough. It wouldn't suit the mood. It --

There *must* be an etiquette for this, something beyond the ease of being greedy and demanding, rough and -- and *harsh* --

"Tim..."

"Yes. Oh -- yes, *please*?"

Perhaps *this* laugh can be suitable. "Shall I stroke you firmly?"

"Oh -- *God*. Do what you want, what -- *use* me --"

"No --"

"*Please* --"

"Not *yet*," Bruce says, and squeezes Tim's penis what *must* be too hard --

"Ah -- oh, *fuck* --" And then Tim is jerking, gasping and *flexing* in Bruce's hand --

Tim still manages to retrieve a wipe -- from *Bruce's* belt -- to catch his semen, and Bruce realizes that he's disappointed, that he'd wanted more of this, Tim's touch and taste --

For all that it would've been far too rough to stroke Tim with the gauntlet on, as opposed to merely holding and tugging --

"Bruce...? Oh -- oh, you want *more* --" And Tim makes a softly incoherent noise as he tugs Bruce's hand away from his penis and then moves to open Bruce's suit with deft, sure touches.

"How --"

"Dick showed me. I -- he saw me looking at them too many times, and he showed me everything, I --" Tim pants and eases the shorts and tights away, the armored jock -- "I think he must've known why I wanted to know."

"You wanted everything of me you could have."

"*Yes*, Bruce," and Tim's touches are gentle through Bruce's briefs, careful and soft --

"Beautiful. I understand you, I believe."

Tim moans and searches him for a moment -- and then tugs Bruce's penis out through the slit and pants -- no. He's hyperventilating for some reason --

"Tim --"

He holds up one finger and smiles brightly, reassuringly -- and then he stops hyperventilating and *swallows* Bruce in three somehow *brutal* gulps --

"*Tim*, you --"

Tim hums loudly --

Bruce groans and reaches  -- no. Tim's hair is too perfect, and the texturing would be an *annoying* sort of hurt on Tim's scalp, Bruce thinks. He cups the back of Tim's neck, instead, squeezing and trying to *will* Tim to stay open for him, to desire *thrusts* --

But Tim is looking up into Bruce's eyes, Tim is present, beautiful --

Bruce pushes the cowl back and tries to give Tim his own focus, his need and hunger -- "I *understand*."

Tim groans in his chest and sucks, *salivates* -- and Bruce realizes that Tim wants to know more, to *hear* more --

That this is, perhaps, a *constant* --

"Of course you should be this -- this *avid*," Bruce says, and squeezes the back of Tim's neck again. "So -- acquisitive, as well?"

Tim nods -- and then begins to work himself on Bruce's penis. So --

"You're so much *smaller* than Dick --"

It's an answer when Tim groans again and begins to swallow rhythmically -- *ruthlessly*. The compression of his throat feels almost dangerous, as if there would *have* to be the risk of terrible injury for *one* of them.

And Bruce knows that he's not gripping Tim's neck as much as he's stroking there, and his back --

He's too *covered* --

"I must. I must *feel* you --"

Tim pulls back enough that only the head is in his mouth, and suddenly the world is a *cold* place, cruel and unwelcoming --

Until Tim wraps his bare hands around Bruce's penis and begins to stroke the shaft even as he sucks, even --

He's giving Bruce his calluses, and, of course, more of his body, his --

Her -- ? But how to ask? Should he not have manipulated Tim's penis? He'd seemed to enjoy it --

"I want to give you *new* fantasies even as I enact your older ones --"

Tim hums several times. He almost seems to be speaking, and Bruce can't help but feel as though a *part* of him can understand. The soft and needy part of him, the *greedy* --

Oh -- "I *understand*," Bruce says again, taking off the gauntlet on his free hand with his teeth so he can touch Tim's hair, just --

He won't ruin the *style* --

"I wanted to be taken as well, Tim. I wanted -- *nnh* -- your mouth is a *wonder* --"

Tim hums interrogatively, *pointedly* --

Bruce laughs somewhat breathlessly. "Yes, your impatience, as *well*, Tim. So perfect --" Bruce licks his lips and grunts for the feel of Tim's hard sucks and harder *squeezes*. "Yes, you -- I wanted to be taken by a lover, used utterly by someone who saw me and was *stricken* by the need for touch -- however brutal. It would mean so much *more*..."

Tim whimpers and nods, and perhaps the way Tim begins to stroke Bruce faster is meant to be further affirmation, more --

It *is* more, but -- "Tim... can you take me in your throat once more?"

Tim nods *vigorously*, squeezing Bruce's penis one more time before letting go and lowering himself down. Not --

It's *not* slow, but it isn't fast, either. It's measured, steady enough to remind Bruce of videos of ships pulling into dock, cars pulling in --

*In* --

Bruce strokes Tim's ear with his fingertips --  it's not enough.

Bruce strokes the gorget of Tim's cape, the strip of flesh above it -- it's not *enough*, and Tim is taking his mind, suckling as he *swallows* --

"Beautiful. You're beautiful --"

Tim looks up at him and gives even more, offering the pleasure in his eyes, the simple *happiness* --

"Yes. I want -- I *will* have this from you --"

Tim pulls back seemingly *just* to moan. For him. For *this* --

And Bruce finds the catches of his cape. The mechanism is a simple one, but it's designed for much smaller hands to manipulate. He tries anyway --

And Tim groans and reaches up to do it himself, one-handed and so deft --

Of course the uniform is -- he's *used* to it, but --

But Bruce still feels himself twitching in Tim's mouth, Tim's hot and *wonderful* mouth --

But the skin of the back of his neck is fuzzed with hair, as tender and interesting as his scrotum. Bruce massages roughly and Tim groans again, looks at him *pleadingly* --

But what is it? What could -- no. "*Swallow* me."

Tim grunts and thrusts at nothing --

Bruce twitches *again* --

And Tim takes him whole, entire --

His eyes roll back in his head --

This is arousing him once more. This --

A part of Bruce is only noting the time -- but he can't think of this as a waste. Not when there's such pleasure, desire *shared* --

And he can stroke Tim's long, slim throat. He can mark the curve of it as Tim drives him higher, stokes the fires of Bruce's *lust* until everything he wants seems brutal and perfect at once. He *squeezes* the front of Tim's throat experimentally --

And Tim claws desperately, *fervently* at his hips, eyes gaining and losing focus, gaining it again as he *nods* --

"Oh -- but so dangerous --"

Another nod and a *plea* --

And the truth is that Tim isn't getting any air to *be* cut off in this way. The truth --

The truth is that Bruce is already thrusting when he squeezes, when he *lifts* Tim enough that he must take Bruce from another angle --

Tim scratches and claws at the chest armor -- but doesn't bare his teeth. This -- this must be correct. This -- use.

"Anyone -- anyone would desire you, and I -- I can't *deny* -- oh, *Tim* --"

He's working his head in rhythm with Bruce's thrusts, meeting him with power, strength --

Of course, this must not be an unfamiliar protocol, but to be made love to like this is still *profound*. He *is* being taken -- and perhaps used to soothe the ache of fantasy, and years of frustrated and *hopeless*-seeming desire.

Tim never expected him to *exist* where he could be made love with, just as Bruce never imagined being invited into the arms of a boy so knowledgeable and young, at once. So practical and yet so imaginative. So beautiful and so convinced that beauty could come only through *effort* --

And Bruce can't be gentle any longer. Not --

He will not *injure*, but his body gives him no choice: He grips the back of Tim's head and holds it still for his thrusts --

Tim claws at the chest armor once more --

Again --

Tim goes limp and *allows* --

Such *freedom* --

"Take -- take my *pleasure*, Tim --"

Tim shudders and begins to suck for every thrust, harder as Bruce pulls *out* --

And when Bruce tries to call Tim's name again, nothing comes out but a sighing *growl* --

Tim looks up again -- and it's obvious that his eyes widen even with the shadows of his mask and the strange position --

"No -- *fear* --"

And Tim is trying to nod -- he. Bruce can't *let* him nod. He needs Tim there, just *there* --

For one more --

Orgasm tears another growl from him, forces his fingers to *spasm* on the back of Tim's head --

He's breaking Tim's careful *spikes* --

He --

There is heat and *light*, and he's read of near-death experiences, wondered about the differences between zeitgeist and the suggestibility of the average --

So human --

And Tim is taking all of him, sucking and swallowing, squeezing Bruce's penis with his skillful *throat* --

No, he's pulling back, and Bruce thankfully has enough of his control back to *allow* it.

He grips the base of Bruce's penis again and strokes and squeezes almost brutally -- and Bruce *grunts* for the feel of ejaculating once more. It's something to narrow his eyes for, to --

But Tim is moaning in approval -- further arousal?

He's working his head on Bruce's penis once more even though he must be able to feel Bruce softening. The pressure is quickly growing *painful* --

"Tim..."

Tim's moan is mournful and staggeringly heartfelt. The power of this --

He has been given neither permission nor *hint* that hauling Tim up against his body would be welcome or even *tolerable*, but -- he must.

Tim tenses -- or is it his armor? He sighs and smiles. "You're a cuddler, too, Bruce...?"

"Your voice..."

"Hm? Oh, yes. Jason likes to call it 'froggy.' I like to think of it as a mark of a job well done."

Bruce hums. "I enjoy your confidence, Tim."

"But it's not deserved...?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "You know it is."

"I -- yes. Ah -- reflex," Tim says, and wriggles... testingly.

"Jason holds you. And so does Dick."

"And Steph, too, at times, but --"

"We have work to do. I know. Still."

Tim narrows his eyes again, purses his -- perfect -- lips -- Hm.

"Wait."

"Why *should* I, Daddy...?"

Bruce blinks -- a great deal. "Tim."

"Yes? No? A *little*...?"

He is being toyed with... expertly. However. "It wouldn't be terribly difficult to come up with a plausible read of your emotional profile which would include a certain desire for... parenting."

Tim shows his teeth. "That's the best part... Daddy."

"Tim. Were you to allow it, I would give you everything you even *seemed* to need --"

"Oh -- don't -- ah." Tim licks his lips and Bruce remembers --

"You left no lipstick on my penis."

"Ah... no? It's a really *sturdy* brand. We could use something else for other encounters --"

"That's much less important --"

"Than what you want to discuss right now. Namely me... failing to stand up for more -- you're *leaving*!"

Bruce blinks again -- stops. "I must --"

"Don't -- you can't make me want -- " Tim shakes his head and pushes back before sitting in the passenger seat once more.

"Tim --"

"Suit *up*, Batman. We're late."

Bruce winces -- and suits up. "I would like to apologize --"

"It's not you I'm angry with at the moment --

"I believe that was a lie."

Tim smiles -- harshly -- at nothing at all.

"Please. I -- should I not have made love with you?"

"Should --" Tim isn't smiling anymore. "You -- I wanted that."

"But not my emotions?"

"That wouldn't -- I didn't want to use *you* --"

"And if I wanted to be used by you?"

Tim crosses his arms over his chest and frowns *darkly*.

"Please, Tim."

"Some of us -- some of us think *twice* about developing serious *attachments* to people who could leave the *universe* at any given moment."

"I... I've always told myself that I wouldn't make love with anyone I didn't care for, and want more from."

"You don't *know* me -- "

"I know that you have been wounded sorely by at least one loved one. I know that you use your identity confusion to create art both fleeting and permanent -- in terms of its effect. I know that you're brave but not fearless. I know that you're both young and wise. I know that you could teach me much, and that I could do the same for you. I know.... I know that I wish to know more."

Tim frowns and doesn't *look* at him --

"Did it take your brothers so long to come to care for you?"

"I -- they needed someone like me. They've told me --"

"Do you *truly* believe they only needed your body? Your skills?"

"Their -- opinions are very important to me, and I -- you shouldn't use them like this."

Bruce breathes deeply. "Am I hurting you now?"

Tim frowns again -- and then turns to look at him. "I don't do especially well with -- ah. People who care about me."

"You're wonderful with your family --"

"Yes. They -- they *stay*, and I might lose them one day, but statistically it's far more likely that I'll die before they do, and -- I can't help being... pulled toward someone who... wants me."

For a fleeting moment, Bruce imagines some vast and arcane portal leading into a mysterious darkness. He's standing in front of it, and Tim's hand is in his own --

Tim pulls them *through*, clear and excited and brave --

It could never happen, but... "I understand --"

"Not really," Tim says, and smiles ruefully. "You'd do nearly anything for the *Mission*, but the Mission comes before... family."

Bruce frowns. "I -- I've devoted my life -- and you took the same Oath --"

Tim's smile becomes darker, sharper -- "I took the Oath because it meant I would always be a part of the best family a boy like me could have. That Dick would be there, and Jason, and Barbara... well."

"Barbara is... Owl?"

"*Barbara* is Barbara Gordon, AKA James Gordon's adopted daughter."

"He doesn't -- oh."

Tim laughs quietly. "Yes. I... I'm not like you, Bruce."

He's like *Dick*, who would sacrifice his family --

His life and parents --

"I'm sorry," Tim says. "I -- just meant for us to have fun --"

"I did --"

"And that's a lie. I wanted *you*, this -- this interesting *man* who makes Dick crazy and Jay open --" Tim shakes his head. "You get what you pay for?"

"I -- should I regret what we've shared, Tim?"

"Shared. Because. Because we made love --"

"*Yes* --"

Tim blushes darkly enough that it shows through his foundation. He turns back to his lap --

"Please --"

"This -- this isn't the right *way* for you to not be agreeable, Bruce."

"Then you must teach me more --"

"You're -- leaving," Tim says, frowning and looking up once more, searching Bruce --

Bruce turns to face Tim more fully to make it easier, checking to make sure the cowl is back, though he isn't at all sure what he wants Tim to *see* --

Is he?

Tim firms his mouth into a hard line and shakes his head once. "I -- suggest that we table this for another time --"

"You don't believe that time will come."

"What I believe is irrelevant --"

"Not," Bruce says, and reaches over to cover Tim's hand with his own, "to me."

Tim closes his eyes -- and then puts his lenses down. "Patrol."

There's so much he'd like to say -- and he knows none of the right words for it. "All right," Bruce says, and pulls the cowl back down.

*

So this is absolutely the first time he's ever hovered under some chick's bedroom window in the motherfucking *suburbs* while said chick de-heart-attacks her mother by coming in whole and happy and sober and all that other good shit through the front door. It's just not *right* to ruin shingles with a grapple. He *knows* how much that shit costs.

Still, Steph is way better than 'some chick' and also she'd punched a guy so hard tonight that Jason almost hadn't been able to get his fist up fast enough to unload on the guy himself --

Yeah. That's just --

Yeah.

Lark doesn't really *have* territory of her own *officially*, but with Tink way the hell over near Owl country, they had a good chunk of the city to work with. And work *on*.

Steph is fucking *aggressive* -- all the *time*, but especially when she's horny. Working with her tonight had been like holding on to a Rottweiler with a fucking *grudge*.

*Every* dealer.

*Every* mugger.

And, yeah, those frat boys looking for trouble right at the *edge* of the 'hood, too.

She'd busted heads, kicked her way through guys' fertility, *punched* her way through people's damned *intellects* --

Jason had had to *literally* hold her back a few times so she'd leave him people to *interrogate*. And then --

Heh. He'd let her go.

*She'd* said that it was just because her pretty new gauntlets were a little *too* pretty -- but Jason got close enough to smell her a few times. Not *much* funk, but enough to get his nose open and *keep* his cock muttering at him all night long.

Which is maybe why he has five new teeth for his collection rather than his usual average of two. Heh.

Honestly, the only way the others had as much fun as *he'd* had tonight is if Owl had come out to play, and, judging by the way she was *directing* the others to various hot spots closer to the center of the city, she was probably playing at home with all of those computers.

She's -- she's different now than she used to be. She isn't as *into* the whole thing as the woman who'd been in all of Dick's stories. Dick said her smiles are quieter and more secretive than they used to be, too.

She still dances her way over rooftops. She still fucking *pounces* from on high, cape spreading over the whole sky and making the kind of shadows that make people piss themselves, but she has her hands deep in the political side of things, hacking into various systems and trying to help them -- and the cops -- find the dirt they need to take some of the worst crooks down.

More and more, that's what she's doing, to the point where sometimes whole weeks pass without her being on the street, at all. Steph had been operating three whole *months* before she'd had her first meet-up with Babs, and that --

Well, he's not sure if that's wrong or not.

The bad guys still get taken down, and justice still gets a little closer to actually working for all the little people, but the idea of there just not *being* an Owl anymore -- even a distant and *absent* Owl -- makes Jason more than a little fucking queasy --

But he can *hear* Steph stomping up the stairs through her half-open window, and there are things he doesn't have to think about *right* now.

Things like --

Okay, he has no fucking clue anymore what those things were, because Steph was apparently *stripping* while she walked, and she's curvy and creamy and down to a sturdy-looking bra, her tights, and her boots. She looks like fucking *dessert* and --

She gestures *back* --

Jason rappels down away from the light of the window --

And that's her mother's tread. Jesus. Jesus --

"You don't know what you're *doing*, Stephanie!"

"I *know* that. That's why I'm *learning* from people who *do*."

*Shit* --

"You -- you're talking about *Robin*?"

"And Starling, and Cardinal, and -- uh. Never mind."

"Stephanie --"

"Never *mind*, I said! Look, you're already late for work --"

"I was waiting to *hear* from you --"

"I *told* you what I'd be doing, Mom! Don't -- don't use me as an *excuse*!"

Ouch. Just --

That wasn't even a little bit friendly, much less familial. Mrs. Brown isn't saying a *word*, but Jason can feel that she's still there, maybe trying to pick her guts up off the *floor* --

"Oh -- Mom. I know you're not using anymore or anything -- I'm sorry," Steph says, but she still sounds more annoyed than guilty.

"I see. I. Apology accepted."

"Mom --"

"No. No, Stephanie. Please, be honest with me for just a moment --"

"I'm only ever gonna lie to you if you start using again, so, you know, go with that --"

"Do you still think of me as your mother?"

Steph had called her a *roommate* --

And Steph's the one being quiet right now. Fucking *shit* --

Mrs. Brown gasps a little -- "I see," she says again, and this time her voice is thick and low --

"It's not -- it's not all the *time*, Mom --"

"You -- you might as well call me by my *name* --"

"I don't *do* that shit, Mom --"

"Watch your --"

"I'm sorry I cursed in front of you. I'm sorry, okay? I don't -- I don't want to disrespect you."

"And you don't consider running all over rooftops and *beating* on people after I've asked you not to disrespectful?"

"It's my life, Mom. It's what I want and it's something I'm *good* at. You have no idea how many criminals I helped stop tonight so that people like *us* can sleep better at night. So many guys who'll go to *jail* for at least a little while instead of home to torture their poor *families* --"

"I can't. I can't apologize enough for allowing your father to stay with us --"

"No. You can't. But I forgive you anyway, because you had your own problems. But just because I forgive you doesn't mean I *trust* you to know what's best for me."

Another gasp. Another -- Jesus, those are the kind of fucking hits you don't get *up* from. Just --

Jason doesn't lift himself up enough to look over the windowsill, but he wants to. He *wants* to stop the *bleeding* a little --

"I'm sorry, Mom, but -- it's the truth. I trust you to *want* the best for me, and to *try* to make things as good for me as you can. But this -- you told me once that being a nurse was the only thing you ever wanted to be because of how badly *your* mother died. Well -- this. This is the only thing *I* want -- maybe because of the way our family used to look or maybe not. But it's what I want, and I'm *going* to have it."

Another silence.

A long *fucking* silence --

God, doesn't Steph know that she can't -- do exactly what she's doing to stay with *them*, because they *needed* a Rottie --

A hottie-Rottie --

Okay, maybe fucking not, but still --

"Stephanie... I'm sorry I hurt you so badly --"

"I *know* that --"

"I -- it's a mother's prerogative to worry about her only child --"

"Like you'd worry less if there were more of me?"

"Stephanie, please," Mrs. Brown says, and her voice is still rough, but now it's quiet and low.

Steph takes a shaky breath. "Okay. You -- talk."

"Thank you. There's nothing you can do to make me stop worrying about you, Stephanie. If you call to tell me that you're going out with your -- your new friends, then all I can do is picture some man with a knife being too fast for you, or too strong --"

"I'm *really* strong --"

"You're not Superman! You're not even *Superboy*, Stephanie! I -- I'm not going to try to talk you out of this tonight. I can see you have your mind made up. But I need you to understand that I *will* worry. That I'll *always* worry, and always wish you -- *and* your friends -- would save this business for the *police* in this city."

"They can't handle everything --"

"And you *can*?"

"Not everything. Not *yet*. I'm in training, and training never ends. But they know I'm good enough to be out there for *short* patrols --"

"Anything can *happen* --"

"*Mom*."

Mrs. Brown sighs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean -- please tell me you understand."

"I -- heh. You know when I worry, Mom?"

Fuck, Steph sounds *dangerous* --

"About... about me?"

"Yeah, about you."

"Tell me," Mrs. Brown says, and she sounds just as frightened as anyone *should* when Steph sounds like that --

"Every day."

"What? I don't --"

"Every day you go to work, every day you leave the *house*. But mostly work, because they never *realized* you were a damned junkie there. You were too clever for that, so now nobody *watches* you around the dispensary. Right?"

"Stephanie, I'm *done* with that --"

"Sure you are. I believe you *want* to be done with it, and that you *need* to be done with it. I even believe that you *know* you need to be done with it, and that you'll try your hardest to *be* done with it. But I still worry, because one of the few *useful* things they've taught us in school is that a junkie is always a junkie. So I worry -- because I've seen you at your worst, and I never want to see that again."

"I never want to see your dead body --"

"Then maybe we're even, Mom. Because you were dead *inside* then."

Silence --

Fucking *heavy* silence --

And then Mrs. Brown sighs. "I was. You're right. I... I'll go now. I love you, Stephanie."

"I love you, too --"

"Do you have a condom for your friend hanging outside the window?"

*Fuck* --

"Heh. As a matter of fact? I have a box of them. Good catch."

"You never did need to have a lesson repeated more than once," Mrs. Brown says, and sighs again. "I'm going to work. I'll be home before you have to go to school --"

"Unless there's an emergency. Yeah, I know the drill."

"All right," and Jason listens to Mrs. Brown walk heavily out of Steph's bedroom and down the stairs --

And Steph opens her window all the way.

Jason climbs in and looks around, but it's not like there *would* be actual blood on the walls or guts on the floor --

"Hey," Steph says.

Jason turns around and finds her with her arms crossed under her breasts. She's staring out the window like maybe she expects someone else to come in -- "There are so many fucking hugs for you right here, babe --"

She snorts and waves him off. "Strip down to your underwear first. The first time I hugged Tim when he was in the armor was also the *last* time I did."

"Fine by me, but I was thinking you'd maybe want the clothes-on time first...?"

Steph looks at him, incredulous and wary at the same time --

Jason raises his hands. "Dead serious. Because that was... really fucking serious."

Steph smiles wryly down at the floor, pulls out her hair-tie, shakes her hair loose, and starts rubbing and scratching at where the sweat would've dried on her scalp.

It makes Jason itch a little, too --

"We were due, Jay. Totally due."

"Okay, I hear you, but --"

"Strip. Please? I need the cuddles kinda soon."

"Done," Jason says, and works off his cape, taking a moment to remember all the time it took to learn to take the thing's *weight*, to *use* it --

He hangs it on the back of Steph's door and gets rid of everything else until he's down to a sweaty t-shirt and boxer briefs which are doing a lot of talking about how *much* time Jason has spent thinking about sex tonight. Still, he *feels* good and cuddly when Steph walks right up to him and latches on, and that's the important thing.

He wraps his arms around her and holds her close, keeping her steady with one hand on her back while he pets her hair --

"Do you ever wash Tink's hair?"

"I did once. It led to *incredible* sex -- and Tim going right back into the bathroom to wash it the right way. Tim's beauty regimen is fucking hardcore."

Steph laughs quietly. "What the hell does he do when he gets a pimple?"

"Heh. I don't know and I don't wanna know, because when I see little red spots that look like they *could* be pimples, I also see Tim with that 'I will string you up by your own intestines if you *think* wrong' look in his eyes."

That gets him a snicker -- "Okay, I need to see that."

"From a distance, babe, trust me. He can get *bitchy*."

Steph sighs. "You like that, though."

"I -- heh. Yeah, I really do. You didn't see what he used to be like when he walked small all the time and constantly acted like he didn't have the *right* to his opinions."

"How did you go for him if he was like *that*?"

Jason hugs her a little tighter. "Little bits of him would show through if I talked *enough* shit, and -- I don't know. His eyes. You've seen his eyes now."

"Yeah, they're -- not really *pretty* like yours, but -- there's something."

"*Thank* you. There's totally -- there's *always* something going on behind his eyes, and you just have to *wait*, and maybe coax a little --"

"Or hit him. He talks when I hit him."

Jason sighs and leans in to kiss her temple. "I totally talk when you hit me, too, you know."

Steph snorts. "You *know* it's not the same."

"Yeah, I do. How'd you figure out that you wanted him?"

"The way he moved, all stealthy and ninja-like. I mean -- I could tell *instantly* that he wasn't anything like *any* boy I'd ever seen. And then -- all the other stuff."

"Including the gay."

Steph smiles ruefully and strokes Jason's sides a little. "Maybe he's safe."

"I can be safe --"

"Maybe I don't *want* you safe, Star."

"Maybe I just twitched in my underwear."

"Maybe I just felt it," Steph says, grinning and stepping back -- and holding Jason's hands.

Jason squeezes Steph's hands. "Yeah?"

Steph grins a little wider and starts tugging him back toward the bed. Fuck, yeah --

"This is where I point out that the only mom you have to argue with before getting laid at *my* house is Alfred, and he has his arguments *silently*. With his *eyes*."

"How's that not bounce off *your* thick head?"

"Hey, I'm fucking sensitive --"

"Everywhere?"

"Heh. Try me and see, babe."

Steph snickers again and lets go of his hands to cup her tits through the sports bra. "Top to bottom or bottom to top?"

"Uh. What?"

"You heard me."

"I... get... a choice?"

She looks at him like he's crazy.

"Okay, look, keep in mind that the *last* woman I had sex with -- the only woman I've had sex with for over a fucking *year* -- is *Kory*. Starfire, I mean."

"The one with the --"

"Yeah."

"And she only wears --"

"*Yeah*."

"And she's -- she's *huge*, Jay!"

Jason smiles a little dreamily. "Fucking stacked, too. But also -- uh. Definitely a top. All the time."

Steph bites her lip and looks a little troubled --

"Oh, hey, no, you're the hottest woman I've seen in *forever* --"

She waves him off --

"Okay? What'd I do wrong?"

She bites her lip a little harder -- stops and shakes her head. "Are you a bottom with women all the time?"

"No! I mean -- no. I mean -- what's good here?"

She snorts at him -- and then snickers at him. "I'll stop you if you need to be stopped, yeah?"

"That's cool --"

"So --"

"Top to bottom. *Please* top to bottom. You have no *idea* how long I've been thinking about sucking your tits, babe."

She snorts and pulls off her bra in one movement, and the jiggle --

The fucking *wiggle* -- "Fuck, Jesus, those are sweet. I -- am not asking anymore because you'll hit me when I need to change the record. I'm good," Jason says, and gently clotheslines her midsection until she's on her back on her narrow little bed -- "Also? We *all* have king-sized beds. Tink's isn't even *used* --"

"Shut up and *suck* --"

"Okay, okay, I just gotta advertise a *little* here --"

She smacks him.

Jason grins. "See how easy that was?"

She balls her hand into a *mean*-looking fist --

And Jason latches on to the right nipple and starts getting it wet, nice and slick, nice and --

He *has* hands, and one of them is just going to have a little fun with the *left* tit, which is soft and full --

Gotta be at least a C-cup --

Dick probably *knows* already --

And maybe he's thinking about Dick doing this *with* him, sucking hard and sure and *harder* than that, staring into Steph's eyes, tasting that mix of --

Well, Jason *knows* women don't lactate unless a whole lot of pregnancy things -- or medication things -- happen first, but some women just *smell* milky, sweet and thick and fucking *drugging* --

And the little hums and moans Steph's putting out are so good, so --

Not good *enough*. So.

Jason meets her eyes and pulls off, blowing cold on her wet nipple --

She grunts and shoves her smacking hand into his hair. Her other hand's still balled into a fist, but Jason's thinking he's on the right *track*. He licks his way to her left tit and starts getting *that* nipple wet while he rubs and flicks at the right --

"Fuck -- *Jay* --"

"Mm-hmm..."

Another grunt --

She pants for him a couple of times --

Yeah, he can keep *this* up, because it won't be long until the smell of her sweat overpowers the milky scent, makes him need --

No, right now, and he pulls off and licks the crease under her breasts for salt, for *tang* --

"*Jesus*, Jay --"

"Just gettin' warmed up, babe," and he nibbles his way back to her nipple. The last chick he'd done *that* to -- some nameless girl on the yearbook staff -- had *bucked* for him. Steph pants again and *yanks* his hair -- "Tell me if you want it -- "

"*Harder*, but --" She groans for his bite, shudders a little --

"'But?'"

"Jay -- Jay --"

"Not too much?"

She nods frantically, and that just brings him back to Tim, to the first time he'd *pinched* Tim's tiny little nipples, the first time he'd really *pulled* them because he was thinking about shoving his hands down Tim's pants, shoving a finger -- or two, or *three* -- right up that tight little ass --

He bites again and she groans, digging her fingers in against the bruises on his scalp and making Jason twitch again --

Again when he presses hard against her great big fucking thigh --

"Ohn -- so --" She shakes her head and *yanks* him into a kiss, hot and wet and hard --

Jason makes it harder, fucking her mouth a little and rearing up over her enough that his shoulders block out the world a little --

*Tim* likes that, anyway --

And Steph wraps her legs around Jason's waist and *hauls* him against her, right where she's hottest through the tights --

Jason gets a hand back on her tit and starts squeezing and stroking, really giving her the *size* of his hand --

He's looked like he was growing into paws for a year and a *half* now, and *lots* of people like that --

Steph groans into his mouth and shoves her free hand down the back of his boxer-briefs, grabs the meat of his ass and squeezes like she's been using a fucking *hand*-strengthener --

"Love that -- love that so fucking much, babe --"

"Ngh -- you've got such a pretty *ass* --"

"Wanna fuck it?"

Steph's eyes go *wide* for that --

Jason grins and licks his lips --

"Uh. Um."

"Back home? I've got a strap-on *just* for the women in my life."

"*Fuck*, Jay --"

Jason licks her mouth, moves enough to suck over her carotid *lightly* --

"Oh --"

"It's big, babe."

"*Fuck*. How big?"

"Seven inches --"

"Like. Like Harvey."

Jason blinks and pulls back a little. "Uh. Yeah, I guess, but --"

Steph snorts and pulls him back in. "I'm totally almost sorry," she says, and licks *his* mouth, bites his lips, kisses him hard and slow while she *talks* to him. It's gotta be talking, all those little hums and moans, little noises designed to heat him right the fuck *up* --

Jason sucks her tongue -- no. He goes *down* on her tongue, licking it up and down --

She shoves him back --

"No?"

"You *gotta* admit that he's hot."

"I do *not* --"

"He's hot."

"Steph --"

"He's *hot*, damn it!"

Jason frowns --

Steph scowls -- and covers her tits.

Jason whimpers. "Fine, fine, he's *hot*. *Jesus*, you're mean --"

"You *love* it!"

Jason sighs. "Yeah, I do. Uh. Do you wanna *hit* it with him? I mean, I don't think he goes for people our age."

Steph snorts again. "I guess that had to be true about *somebody*. Uh. You gotta go down on me, like, right now."

"*Done*," Jason says, scooting back to help her out of her boots, those socks -- "Oh, Jesus, even your feet are cute --"

"Don't be a fucking pervert!"

"Uh?"

She gives him the giggle-snort and wiggles her toes at him. "I'm *kidding*. Help me out of these things, 'cause I swear they know when I've eaten an extra cheeseburger and get *tighter*."

He's pretty sure clothes don't work that way, but he can shut the hell up -- but. "I fucking love checkin' out your ass out there --"

"I can *feel* it when you do -- fucking *horndog* --"

"Heh. I could *smell* you out there, babe."

Steph's eyes go wide again. "You -- my *sex* funk?"

Jason flares his nostrils and peels her tights down and down and down --

"Gah! *Fuck* --"

"I'm thinking *most* of the criminals missed it... but I didn't."

She blushes hard and *stares* at him -- "I am *never* going out without a shower again --"

Jason licks his lips. "Maybe I can convince you away from that...?"

"*Jay* --"

"Maybe if I promise to face-plant in your pussy *every* time you skip showering before patrol?"

Steph narrows her eyes -- hungrily, not meanly. "Maybe you're not worth it."

"Maybe --"

"Get the fuck down there *right* -- *now* -- oh, *fuck* --"

Not usually his *style* to suck on a clit first, but she was absolutely asking for it --

"Nuh -- *nnh* -- fuck *me*, that's good --"

Well, all right, then. He gives it to her about a fraction as hard as he gave it to Donna that time --

Kory doesn't actually *have* a clit, as opposed to a lot of interestingly muscular folds and something like a --

Well, it's not really a *tentacle* -- she can't do more than flex it in a few different --

Okay, it's a tentacle, and it doesn't *like* to be sucked, and it doesn't taste like *human* musk, and *human* salt, and *human* pre-come, because she's wet for him, fucking --

No, she'll stop him if she doesn't want --

He pushes two fingers into her box *slowly* --

"Unh -- *unh* --" She clenches and *spurts* --

Jason licks it right the hell *up* --

And then she shoves his head away.

"Okay, I'm stopping. That -- *was* that you coming?"

Steph shudders and pants. "Just -- mm. A little one. I always go off quick for my clit."

Jason nods. "Good deal. Uh... do I get more?"

Steph grins with her eyes closed and twists her nipples back and forth. "Who used the strap-on on you?"

"Donna -- Troia -- gave it to me as a birthday present --"

Steph snorts hard. "Oh *shit*. Had you been hooking up *before*?"

"Heh. Not even *once*. She wanted to wait until I grew a few inches."

Steph's eyes fly open and she stares at him -- "That's so fucking *dirty*."

"Uh, huh. She told me chicks on Themyscira try all *kinds* of things to get their fingers to grow faster."

"Their -- oh. Uh. Oh."

Jason waggles his eyebrows and flexes his fingers a little --

"Ooh -- uh. *What*?"

"You ever go for another girl?"

"What? No! I mean -- some girls *look* good, but they're all *dumbasses* in my school."

"What about Babs?"

"She treats me like a *kid*," she says, bending her knee back enough and kicking Jason's shoulder with it. "Have your Vigilantes Gone Wild fantasies *without* me."

Maybe she'll like Kory or Donna. Maybe -- mm. Jason sighs in what he hopes *sounds* like contrition --

Steph snickers. "Asshole."

Oh, yeah -- "Speaking of --"

"You really want that? Me to fuck you?"

"I want a *lot* of things, babe, but yeah, that's one of 'em."

Steph licks her lips. "And -- what if I used my fingers? I don't have any *lube* --"

"Medical grade in my belt. Works *just* fine --"

"Can you fuck me and not get off?"

"Uh -- maybe?"

"Let's do *that* -- and then I'll pack some fudge."

Jason *coughs* his way through a snort. "Okay, that's about -- uh. Eugh?"

She sticks her tongue out at him and wiggles it --

So he lifts her with one hand under her ass and gives her a *medium*-hard spank.

"*Fuck*, *Jay* --"

"Bad girl...?"

She narrows her eyes at him again, licking her teeth like she's thinking of doing a *lot* of mean things with them --

She pulls *both* knees back --

And then she reaches down and spreads her inner lips just like -- like fucking *anything* -- "Whatcha gonna do to me for it?"

Oh, yeah. "Fuck you so hard you scream my name, babe."

"That's it?"

Jason thrusts three times hard --

"*Mm* --"

Jason pulls out --

Steph *growls* --

"Heh. No. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you don't know whether to clench or beg me to stop."

Those eyes get *narrower* --

"And then? I'm gonna fuck you so hard you tear up a little. *Just* a little, though, babe -- I want you to see *every* fucking minute."

She grunts and sits up, pulling his cock out over the waistband of his boxer-briefs -- "No, wait, get your balls out, *too* --"

"You know it, babe," and Jason stands up on the bed and ditches everything he was still wearing before getting back down and pinning Steph nice and easily. "You ready for me?"

"What if I'm not?"

"I *make* you ready."

Steph pants a little -- "Do it --"

And Jason kisses her again, making it wet enough that they're both getting messy, fucking her mouth slow and hard and *dirty*, nice and fucking *dirty* --

And then he bites his way down her throat, bites *hard* right on her pulse point --

She growls and pushes him *down* --

And then he cups her tits, sucking on one nipple and then the other and back again --

Again and she moans for him, arches --

He changes it up to nibbles and *hard* sucks --

"*Fuck* --"

He changes it up to something like how he'd imagined breastfeeding would be like, lots of tongue and *feeling* --

She makes a sound with a lot of o's and r's and n's, and so he keeps *that* up for a little while, makes it a little --

Okay, no, she'd actually *had* milk for at least a little while --

He's not thinking about that. He's not. He's *not* --

And then he *really* isn't, because she's pushing on his shoulders, making it necessary to lick his way down and down, stab her belly button for the salty little *kick* --

"*Jay*, *now* --"

And he gives her clit a little more -- no sucks this time, just some licks and kisses --

Okay, maybe a little suck, maybe just enough that she can feel him, feel how much he wants her to get all the fuck *over* him --

And then she's got a *fistful* of his hair, and she's digging her knuckles in even as she *bucks* against his face -- "*Fuck* me --"

He gets the message. He --

Yeah, he's good, he can stop anytime, she doesn't have to rip his entire scalp off -- "Condom --"

It hits him in the *head*, but he catches it before it falls off onto the floor. It takes him a second to remember how he *does* this, but the old habits come right back before he has to beat himself up for letting himself get too *high*. Just --

She smells like all the sex he could ever *need*, and even knowing that's not true isn't enough to keep him from breathing her in as much as he can, from opening wide to try to taste her on the *air* even as he takes himself in hand --

She's spreading her lips for him again. She --

"So fucking *hot* -- "

"Do it, Jay, *fuck* me --"

"Sound -- sound like Tim --"

And she laughs for that, grinning up at him and making her lips open and close while he watches --

"Fucking *fuck*, Steph --"

"*Now*."

And the only thing Jason can do is *grip* her hand to hold it still, *make* her keep holding herself open, slide in so --

So slick-hot-*sweet* --

So fucking --

She groans and starts clenching *immediately*, and he knows some women do that to get *accustomed* to the feel of a cock inside them, but it just feels like she's ready for him and won't take no for a fucking *answer*, that she's *devouring* him --

"Want -- want your fucking *mouth* --"

"*Next* time, you -- oh, *fuck*, Jay, you -- you're not *small* --"

"Was I supposed to be?"

"You were supposed to --" She shakes her head and *flexes* open, and it feels like she's pulling him even deeper, fucking *keeping* him --

"Tell me, c'mon --"

"*Fuck* me, hold me -- oh, *God*, Jay --"

And it's fucking *necessary* to kiss her, to shove her head down against the pillow as he grinds a little, gets an angle that'll let him hit her g-spot -- and *then* he starts rocking in, using the rhythm of the kiss, the rhythm of her moans --

She pushes him out of the kiss and cries out, loud as fucking anything --

And that means harder. That means stare right down into her eyes and *give* it to her, just like he promised -- "Steph. *Any* time --"

She whines and shoves her fingers in his mouth --

She *fucks* his mouth in the same rhythm *he's* using --

Jason bites down on her fingers and sucks the tips, *licks* the tips and speeds up a little --

"*Fuck* --"

He nods and *stares* at her the way Tim likes, the way he says makes him feel fucked all *over* --

"Jay --"

He pulls away from her fingers. "You gonna scream that for me?"

Steph shakes her head a little, and Jason *knows* that doesn't mean no, but he still fucks her harder, really --

Really starts to *pound* a little --

"*Ohn* -- *Jay* --"

"*Nnh*, like that, do it *again* --"

"I -- *please* --"

"*Again*, I said --"

Steph *shouts*, and it's *almost* Jason's name -- but it's also almost a lot of things --

And he thinks he can forgive her when the random and *hard* clenches start up and he realizes that she's coming for him. Her eyes are wide and dazed, hazed over with *nothing* but sex, and she's crying out over and over --

Jason eases up --

And she rears up and *claws* his shoulders --

"Steph --"

"Don't you fucking *stop*," she says, glaring at him for a moment before she kisses him hard, sucking his breath right out of his body --

Fuck, *yeah*. He shoves her down and *holds* her that way, working his hips until it's perfect, just fucking right --

She clenches so hard Jason *barks* -- 

"*Now* --"

"Fucking do you *right*," Jason says, and starts up just a little slow, because he knows she's good, that *she* knows how to teach --

And she's bucking her hips faster and faster --

Jason *gives* it to her --

And then she's shouting for every thrust, shaking because she *can't* keep up with his fuck. It's too good for her, too much *not* to just lie there and take, *shake* and take, shudder all over --

"Love your fucking *tits* --"

"*Jay* -- oh -- oh, *please* --"

And it's not like he wants her quiet, but it just *feels* better to push his thumb into her mouth and fuck her that way, too, *screw* her that way until she's groaning and licking him like the best treat in the world, like she needs him just like this --

Or maybe in a slightly different *shape*, because those clenches start up again, fast and fucking -- wait, he can --

Jason pulls his thumb out and licks it, tastes the sweetness in her spit, tastes her *warmth* somehow, and tries to --

God, he's so fucking hard, so --

"Need you, Steph, need -- you gotta come again --"

She nods frantically again and squeezes her eyes shut, arches and feels up Jason's arms and chest --

Opens her eyes and stares at him like -- like a *snack*. Not *even* a fucking meal --

"Fucking -- *Steph* --"

"*Harder* --"

Jason hears himself whine and does the only thing he can: He reaches back and *yanks* on his sac to give himself a little --

He screams and *slams* into her, moving them up the bed --

"Oh -- *fuck*, Jay --"

"I got it, I got you --"

"C'mon, c'mon, give it to me --"

"Fucking *always*," and once he can look at something other than the stars floating around his eyes, he stares into her own. Cornflower, that color is --

It's just a *little* blue around the black they're both falling into --

It's --

Her mouth is open and she looks so fucking --

Like she could be angry and anguished at the same time, horny and *lost*, desperate and *scared* -- but maybe that's him, because he doesn't know how he's going to *stop* fucking her, doesn't --

How the hell is he supposed to pull --

Out --

Oh, those fucking *clenches*, Jesus, so --

"*Steph* --"

She nods and whimpers --

Arches right up off the fucking *bed* --

Harder then. Harder and everything he can give her *but* his own come, because she's yelling and her eyes *are* wet and --

God, he *needs* a taste, so he reaches down to swipe up over her clit --

She screams and *locks* her thighs around him --

And shudders herself down to a stop while he licks away the milder-tasting juices that mean she's been coming *just* that much. He can deal. He can breathe. He can --

Well, she's not actually *letting* him thrust, and he can fucking well stop grinding --

She pulls her foot back and kicks his shoulder --

Jason whimpers --

"Pull *out*."

He does, and then he has to grab the wall with all the posters of superheroes with one hand and his sac with the other. Just -- too much. Not *enough*. Too *good* --

"Oh, Jay --" Steph sits up and rolls up onto her knees, pulling him close with one hand and knocking the hand he has on his sac away so she can get *her* other hand on it, so she can *massage* it --

"Steph --"

"Tell me what you *need*, Jay --"

"Something. Something *hard*," Jason says, and tries not to just bang his head against the wall *while* jerking off --

The poster of Kuh-Superboy just wouldn't *appreciate* that --

Steph's doing something with her hands and Jason's shoulders --

"Damn it, turn *over* --"

"You don't *have* to --"

"*Do* it, Jay. And -- next time just *come* in me if it's that bad --"

"Not -- not *bad* --"

"You know what I *mean*," Steph says, and pushes and hauls on him until Jason can get himself moving, get himself on his hands and knees --

"I think -- oh, fuck, Jay, your ass is *really* pretty."

Jason laughs -- but it comes out as just a *weird* moan --

*Steph* laughs. "This -- I'm pretty sure it'll work," she says, and at first Jason doesn't know what she's talking about, but then there are slick fingers in his crack --

It doesn't feel like the medical grade -- oh, *fuck*. "You -- your fucking *juices* --"

"Really -- really a *lot*, and -- " She giggles and rubs his hole. "Hard, yeah?"

"Please. Just -- I need it --"

"You -- God, Jay, I --" And the rest of that is muttered and as incomprehensible as the push of her blunt, rough fingers *isn't*.

She's going in with two right away, and that's just right, that's fucking *perfect*. Her nails are even shorter than Tink's, her fingers are almost as big as Dick's --

Jason groans and punches the bed --

Jason clenches and *whines* --

"Jesus, *already*?"

"Raw. From -- from Dick --"

Steph moans and starts feeling *around* in there and that's --

"God -- *fuck*, Steph --"

"No good?"

"Don't -- just -- I'll *tell* you when something's bad --"

"Then -- I mean, I remember this from health class," she says, twisting her fingers and fucking *bending* them --

"*Steph* --"

"Oh -- *fuck*, okay, yeah, we're doing this again --"

Jason laughs and it turns into another moan, into him *shaking* for it --

"You ever do this with girls?"

Jason nods and tries to make words come out again -- "*Please* --"

"Oh, Jay... okay, okay. You *said* hard," and she takes a deep breath and starts *giving* it to him, thrust after *thrust* --

"Please," Jason says again, because he fucking *has* to --

"I've got you, Star, I won't -- I'll *make* you come," and she sounds a little young, but mostly she sounds *into* it, and that's all Jason can fucking ask for, that's proof that the world is a good *place* --

Jason nods a little more and rocks into Steph's thrusts --

"Oh -- *God*, I want that strap-on --"

"Come -- *home* --"

"I'll *visit*, you -- you just worry about getting off --"

"No worries, I -- oh, *fuck*, Steph --" It's harder, it -- it's *not* deeper, but it still feels that way, like she's *reaching* inside him to make some *room* --

"You want *Bruce* to do this to you..."

Jason nods and just -- he's fucking drooling for it --

Her fingers feel so *hard* --

"Yeah, he -- fucking *ream* me --"

"So I *shouldn't* go in with three? I should leave you a little... uh... ready?"

Jason groans and lets his head hang --

"C'mon, Jay, you gotta tell me --"

"Two. Just --"

"Okay, I -- but another *time* --"

"*Please* --"

"I want. I think I want Harvey to do this to me..."

Jason blinks and feels himself twitch *and* flinch a little --

Steph snorts -- "He *looks* like he'd appreciate something a little -- heh -- dirty."

"Uh. Please -- not --"

"*Okay*. Jesus," and Steph shifts behinds him, reaches between his legs with her free hand, strips off the condom and *grips* his cock. "You'd think you'd be a little more *liberal*."

Jason coughs -- and groans for the way everything jumps inside him, for the way he *has* to clench --

"Oh, that's fucking -- you get so *tight*, Jay --"

Jason nods and licks his lips, rocks back faster --

"Oh -- *yeah*," she says, and starts fucking him faster, *harder*. Making him open, making him really feel *everywhere* Dick rubbed him raw --

And then she starts *stroking* him, jerking him off with awkward motions that speak of just how long it's been since she's done this, but they get better, *smoother* --

Wait, is he the first guy she's been with since she gave *birth*?

Jason clenches and spasms, twitches and *jerks* --

"You'll share *that* thought, Star..."

"*Please* --"

"God, I -- you should get fucked all the *time* --"

"*Yes* --"

Steph growls and turns her short nails in against his cock, pushes *deeper* somehow --

She's gotta be bending her fingers *painfully* --

"Oh, Jay -- how long do I have?"

Jason opens his mouth --

Thinks about Steph *watching* somebody fuck him --

Dick-Bruce-Tim-Clark --

All of them --

Donna joining a fucking *train* --

And Steph seeing everything, *knowing* everything about him --

"*Sister* --"

Steph chokes and scratches his cock *hard* --

Jason *shouts* and beats the bed a little more --

"You fucking *perv* --"

"Just -- need you to *know* me --"

"I do -- I want -- I want that, too --"

"*Please*, Steph --"

"Yeah, okay, no teasing," she says, and starts working her fingers against his prostate over and over --

Starts jerking him fast and *hard* --

"C'mon, Jay, think about a big, *fat* cock..."

Bruce --

His fucking strap-on --

"Think about -- yeah. He's riding you. He's all big and hairy and *huge* and you can smell him so much you can't smell *yourself* --"

"*Nnh* --"

"He's -- he's all *over* you, Jay --"

"God -- fuck --"

"He's so deep you can *taste* him --"

"I -- *need* --"

"You need to get *fucked*, and that's all you need. And I -- tell me not to give you another finger --"

Jason -- fuck, that was practically a *wail*, and the best he can say is that he *almost* cares. Steph is moaning for it --

Jason is clenching and *clenching* --

He can't find the *rhythm* anymore --

"Jay -- Jay..."

"Hnh -- *hnh* -- yeah?"

"Just when you think he's gonna fuck you across the room? You open your eyes and my pussy is *right* there in front of your face, all slick and juicy and puffed-up --"

Jason grunts, and --

Coming is wringing him out, making him blind with it, making him grunt and strain to spill and spill and fucking *spill* --

"Oh my *God*, that looks *brutal* --"

Jason gasps, tries to say something --

Spurts off *again* --

And whimpers like a *bitch* when Steph kinda *tickles* his prostate. "Nuh -- Steph --"

"Just checking, just checking. Uh. Wow."

Jason snorts and drops to his elbows so he can bang his *head* against the bed.

"You -- I always hate having something in my pussy right after I come, but... um. Do I have to move my hand right away?"

"No, fuck, *keep* it there," Jason says, banging his head a little more.

"You feel so *hot* in there."

"Heh. Burn you right up, babe --"

"And -- I'm totally afraid to look at my hand," she says, and snorts. "*You* know what's up there."

Jason snickers a little breathlessly. "If you'd gotten the slick from my belt, you could've *also* gotten one of my gloves."

"Like you could've waited that long! You were *clawing* Green Lantern!"

"Which one?"

"The *cute* one with the pretty mouth."

Jason snickers a little more. "That's Kyle. He's a good guy, and really sweet and polite and shit, but he's so repressed that I'm pretty sure he only gets off when he's painting."

"What, you think he's queer, too? Are *all* of you queer?"

"Wally definitely isn't. He's -- uh. Well, okay, he's hooked up with Dick a few times --"

"Wait, which one is Wally? What kind of parent names their child *Wally*?"

"Wally's Flash. And apparently he comes from really godawful fucking people. He was raised by his aunt, who was hooking up with the *last* Flash."

"The one who died."

Jason takes a deep breath and reaches up to wave a hand. "The way Dick explained it is that he left this plane of existence to go to one with a lot of damned speedsters. I don't know." His ass twinges kind of *loudly* --

Because Steph is flexing her fingers. Right. Yeah. That's --

He's almost sure he should tell her to *stop* --

That -- something --

"Oh! Fuck, sorry," she says, and stops. "My fingers were getting cramped."

Jason laughs a little. "Yeah, you better pull out before I beg you to go again *and* give me three. You need those fingers."

"It's not like you have a *Super* ass."

Jason grins obnoxiously back over his shoulder --

Steph snorts and spanks him with her other hand. "Like talking this much shit *won't* bring Superman --"

"Clark. You gotta call him Clark."

"Fine. Won't bring *Clark* to my bedroom window looking to bone *you* and not *me*."

Jason checks the window -- "Yeah, no way he's not either saving the world or boning his wife right now. That was *asking* for it with him."

"*Seriously*?"

"He told me once -- wait, here," Jason says, reaching back to spread himself with one hand. "Go on and pull out."

"Slow or fast?"

"Uh -- medium?"

Steph snorts and spanks him again -- and pulls out at *medium* speed, so it only feels a little like she's taking Jason's guts with her, and also she doesn't scrape him raw-er than he already is.

When she's out, Jason sighs a little and kneels up, turning around to get a little cuddle --

But Steph *jumps* off the bed and jogs right for her bathroom.

"Uh. Can I cuddle you in there?"

"One *minute*," she says, and there's water running.

"You know, Tim was *just* like this the first time he fingered me."

"He has good *ideas*. And -- and stuff."

Jason snickers and checks out the wall. Kyle, yeah. Kuh-Superboy, looking like a doofus and probably thinking of *his* boy's ass. A nice one of Jay Garrick looking as friendly and *manly* as ever -- impressive with that stupid caldero-hat --

Jason looks at his own cape --

Yeah, not making fun of anyone else's uniform. He sighs and checks out the wall again.

There's a good shot of Ray, showing off that fantastic fucking eight-pack, the *one* shot of Tim that isn't blurry or out-of-focus -- because Kuh-Superboy is holding him *still*, the asshole --

The asshole who's getting at least a little bit fucked over by Tim *because* Jason doesn't like him. Right.

Damn.

He's really gonna have to -- something. Tim *has* to understand that it's okay for him to like people Jason doesn't like, just like it's okay for Jason to *dislike* people *Tim* likes. They don't --

They're not --

Okay, they *are*, but still.

A nagging little voice is telling him that it would all go smoothly if he just sucked it up and got to *know* Kon-El a little bit, got to see what part of that *goofy* fucking personality made Tim hard --

Something.

Of course, *then* he'd have to *like* him, and maybe talk to him about non-Mission-related things --

And that *would* lead to *Impulse* in his life, and *that* kid is way too fucking pretty to be a two-year-old raised by a jumped-up computer game and no, no, *no*. Jason is *not* going to think about Tim's *other* sex life even a little bit, because he has to drive himself home tonight -- and not into some handy embankment.

So.

He focuses on checking out Steph's silhouette as she disinfects her hands. Curve and curve and *curve*. She's got the kind of body where she could either be one of those hyper-muscled triangular women who burn themselves like toast and coat themselves in oil, or just the *interesting* kind of fat, the kind where you *have* to take a second or third look --

*Wonder* a little about what all that soft is *like*...

Jason shakes it off. Right now, Steph's right in the middle of those two extremes. She *will* get more ripped training with them, but then there are those extra cheeseburgers. Not extra fries. Not extra sodas. Extra *cheeseburgers*. Jason licks his lips. "Hey, babe?"

"You're buying me a new nail brush."

"Done. After we cut school and hook up for lunch?"

"I don't *cut* --" She leans out of the bathroom and glares at him. "This is why you're only a *junior*, you know."

"Heh. I'm only a junior 'cause I missed about a year of school taking care of my mom when she was dying and selling my ass."

Steph closes her mouth and blinks at him.

Jason grins and waggles his eyebrows.

"So -- you're basically gonna be able to shut me up with that forever."

"Yeah, probably."

"Asshole."

"*Sore* asshole, to be exact."

Steph bites her lip -- and then she covers her mouth and makes some hooting noises. She covers her mouth with her *soapy* hand, though -- "Oh, *God* --"

And then she runs back into the bathroom. Heh. Jason checks out more of the pictures. There's Roy about two uniform changes ago. It's a candid shot of him *very* obviously hitting on a bystander after some huge Titans battle or another. He's even handing her a card, and -- yeah. "Babe?"

"*What*?"

"Roy -- that's Arsenal --"

"People name their children *Roy* still?"

"Hey, his bio-dad was a park ranger out west somewhere. It could've been a thing."

"Fine, what *about* Roy?"

"He's had sex with everyone. Just -- *everyone*. And he'll totally try for you, too."

"Wait, he's had you and Tim and Dick and Babs?"

"Babs was really high at the time, but yeah."

"Holy..."

Jason lays back and carefully wedges himself against the wall to leave enough space on the bed --

There's totally not enough space on the bed.

Jason sighs and straightens the sheet a little anyway -- wait, no. He sits up, ties off, and ditches the condom that was just *sitting* there on the bed, grabbing a wipe to deal with the mess. He's gotta be tired to have missed doing that. "Anyway -- not even Clark has pulled Babs."

"But he got Bruce, and Roy totally hasn't. Uh. Right?"

"Heh, no, you're right. They're tied up. *You* could settle the score."

Steph snorts and walks out of the bathroom, turning the light off behind her. Her hands look a little abused, and Jason can smell the soap while she's still most of the way across the room.

Definitely gloves from now on. "Do I get my cuddle now?"

Another snort -- and Steph pounces on him, making the mattress creak and complain and pressing Jason right down. "How's this?"

"Aggressive, *moderately* painful, lots of tits -- yeah, works for me."

Steph leans in and pecks him on the mouth. "I told Alfred I was sleeping over for a couple of nights starting tomorrow."

"Yeah? Seriously?"

"That's what started the fight with my mom. It's not like I could tell her *where* I was staying."

Jason winces. "Okay, true, but -- uh. That's the kind of issue Dick and Tim are more qualified to deal with than I am."

"Mm-hmm, I know. And I *will* be asking them. When are you heading out?"

"I wanna get in another hour or so of patrol --"

Steph sighs. "That means too damned soon."

"Oh, hey --"

"No, no way. We already interrupted the Mission *enough*. Just cuddle me *efficiently* now."

"You -- totally picked that up from Tim."

Steph grins. "Really yeah."

"Heh. That's cool. So long as you're *ready* for efficient cuddle."

"Oh, I'm ready all right --*yagh* --"

Flipping her over and pinning her against the wall is pretty easy as these things go, but he has to *work* to get a leg between hers, and also somehow avoid being bitten on the *face*.

It works *eventually* -- mostly because she squeezes him hard enough to make him let one rip, and that makes her giggle enough to lose control -- and then Jason rests his cheek against her temple and starts petting her a little.

"Gotcha."

"I --totally wasn't ready."

"Heh. Tim never is, either. He always bruises me up *most* at times like these."

"You love it."

"Always and forever, babe," Jason says, and turns to kiss her. "Heh. Sister-babe."

Steph digs her nails in over his kidney and seems to be trying to tear it out.

Jason decides to take a little nap.

*

The night was a busy one, with Tim leading him into Owl's territory over and over again as various areas turned into hotspots. Tim explained that Owl's territory has been the least-covered lately, and some of why that was so. Owl's own reports and directives -- spoken through a voice scrambler -- had explained the rest. There are parts of him which approve of a centralized core of information and direction for the family, of course, but there are still other parts which feel an odd mix of fear and embarrassment even now, when he is only remembering the thoughts he'd had hours before.

If Owl were to retire, then anyone could do the same. *He* could --

(Your path will be a lonely one.)

Yes. It must. It must -- *he* must do something to make it so, to save the Dick from his own universe --

To take away his opportunity to build a family of the brilliant and dedicated, the beautiful and *true* --

Bruce frowns at the road ahead. They are only two miles from the Cave and are traveling quickly. Tim is silent beside him, watchful from a space behind eyes which *could* be closed, but aren't.

He knows Tim tenses more purposefully when his eyes are closed, just as he knows Tim's scent when aroused, Tim's generosity and skill --

So *young* --

Bruce feels himself frowning more deeply --

"You could," Tim says, and crosses his legs at the knee, "consider talking about it."

"It's --" Nothing. No, it isn't. It can't be. Even if it were, Bruce would have to come up with something to keep Tim *talking*. "You've left me to my own devices all night --"

"Should I continue to do so?"

"Please -- no."

*Tim* frowns and flips his lenses up. "You were supposed to surrender."

"I... don't."

"I suppose that's in character, but so is -- according to Dick -- a certain degree of crippling discomfort when it comes to emotional conversations."

"That was true about the man I was before my universe began falling apart, but not anymore. I saw the end coming for all of us and could only think of every moment of connection I *missed*."

"You... found yourself regretful."

"Yes."

Tim takes a deep breath and strokes the dashboard. His gauntlet makes a sound on it like denim pulled over a plastic washboard, and it feels both soothing and enervating to hear. Still --

"Please tell me your thoughts, Tim."

"I -- heh." He turns to look at Bruce. "Tell me what you were thinking that made you frown."

"I was wondering whether Jason shared your and Dick's feelings on the nature and utility of regret."

"Well... that's what I was thinking about, too," Tim says, and smiles ruefully. "Jason does, yes. He's the one who decided that we should open ourselves to Harvey. I believe it isn't far off the mark to say that a part of him is grateful to *our* Harvey for killing his worse-than-useless father."

Bruce can't hold back the wince --

"I see. You haven't become accustomed to what the Harvey from this universe became."

"No. You -- you've seen him, and spoken with him... there is a part of me which only wonders how much the Harvey from this universe *hurts* that he could be driven to such acts over and over again."

Tim strokes a stain on his tights from the battle they'd had with members of a drug gang which doesn't exist in Bruce's time and universe. It had been difficult to let Tim separate from him, even knowing how well-trained he is, how skilled and sure --

He had done it just the same, and Tim had performed beautifully, with a physical brilliance which extolled his training by Dick and Jason --

And Tim is frowning *lightly*.

"Tim...?"

"Any number of studies suggest -- some even shout -- that acts of terrible evil tend to become easier for people the more often they're repeated. You know that."

Bruce breathes deeply. "Yes. Still... do your notes and reports offer much about your Bruce's failings in terms of relating what he's learned about human psychology to friends and loved ones?"

Tim blinks. "Well -- yes, actually. Dick made note of the problem several times... with regards to Harvey."

"Were there... were there acts I could've prevented had I not been so blind?"

"That's..." Tim rubs at the stain vigorously for a moment. "That's not clear."

The answer is yes. Bruce nods. "That which drove me to become this... those internal... pushes, I suppose --"

"The Bat."

*Bruce* blinks and slows the car down. "There are notes about *that*?"

"Apparently, you told Dick all about it not long after you first began making love. You... I think you must have decided to share all of yourself with him."

Bruce tries to steady his breathing. "I... I've never been able to imagine..." He shakes his head.

"Oh -- Bruce..." Tim opens his restraints and flips up the center console, moving close enough --

"I can't feel your heat. I -- that was a non sequitur. I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure it *was* a non sequitur, and -- sometimes the heat has to be a promise for later," Tim says, and -- cuddles him from the side.

"Tim..."

"I wondered... the way Dick described it made it sound... terrible."

(You must not *waver*!)

Bruce licks his lips helplessly --

"You don't -- you don't have to talk about it."

(There is *one* path before you, and it will be a lonely one.)

"I've thought -- I've enjoyed the way Jay holds me when he wants to make me speak about something difficult --"

"I shouldn't -- take my hands from the wheel." 

"No, no, I meant --" Tim pushes closer, mussing his hair solely to slip under Bruce's arm --

"Tim --"

"I was wrong to -- to freeze you out tonight."

"You -- I upset you --"

"Solely by being the man you were always supposed to be? Um. Anyway, we *don't* have to talk about it --"

"It came to me... before my parents were killed. I -- I'm not sure I ever would've said... that. To anyone. But you already know."

"Oh. I assumed -- I shouldn't have assumed --"

Bruce takes a shaky breath and tries to convince himself not to take one hand off the wheel --

The car handles beautifully and has no -- no *problems* --

He holds Tim against him. "When I've imagined -- tried to imagine -- speaking of the Bat, I've always glossed over the fact that it was in my dreams many months before I lost my parents. It seemed..." Bruce sighs and tightens his grip on the wheel with his other hand.

"You've always worried about your... about the integrity of your mental health."

"I..." Bruce laughs softly. "Since the first time my father explained to me what 'crazy' meant. What it *could* mean. And, of course, the other children..."

"Harvey was the only one who didn't treat you like you were hopelessly strange."

"Yes."

"It seemed... hm." Tim shifts beside him. "It must have seemed too much to bear. To have *him* lose his grip on sanity, I mean."

"I -- there are no excuses. Tonight I'll read your files. I'll know, and --"

"Surrender to the Bat's ideas of how you should comport yourself with people who care about you?"

Bruce frowns --

And Tim pulls back enough to show the sharpness of his smile. "You didn't die alone, Bruce. Can you imagine that? And it wasn't just at the end -- you had *years* with someone who knew your every secret and still loved you more than anything or anyone else."

"There -- he had other lovers --"

"He told me that neither the manor nor the Cave was his home. He told me that *you* were his home, and always would be."

Bruce gives up and pulls over to the side of the road.

"Here," Tim says, opening his cape and shaped chest-armor --

"Tim --"

"Let me. Let me -- I just -- it's not your *fault* that you're you, and that I'm me, and I need you to *know* that."

Bruce frowns and reaches out -- he still can't feel Tim's heat, but that's because of his own gauntlet, and --

Tim is pulling it off gently and firmly.

"I've always thought -- I mean, the sensation of sweaty skin -- "

"There's an intimacy to it like nothing else. Of course I *want* a shower, but -- I want this, too," Tim says, and raises Bruce's bare hand to his soft mouth.

"Tim..."

Tim breathes hot on Bruce's fingers, then kisses them. "Open your chest armor."

"Tim --"

Tim stops him with an eyebrow raise, and with the way the light in his eyes is both amused and somewhat hectic. *Fraught*.

"You're troubled."

"I need -- I need you to not be at all troubled because of *me* --"

"I hurt you --"

"You made me *want* you. That's -- that's very different," Tim says, and smiles ruefully. "Especially since you did it by being yourself. Open your chest armor."

"I -- should shower --"

"Bruce... I really, really like the way you smell."

Bruce narrows his eyes and grunts helplessly --

Tim blinks -- and shoves Bruce's arm aside to open the armor himself. He is as deft and quick at the task as he's been at everything else --

And the car seems to fill with the scent of his body. Armor and leather and sweat, aging and new --

"Oh, Bruce..." Tim shakes his head and tosses his armor in the back seat, then does the same with Bruce's. "Push your seat back."

Opened, he feels himself vulnerable to every -- no. He is not yet that, but this boy...

Girl?

Bruce pushes the seat back and reaches for Tim, who immediately pushes into his arms and straddles his lap. This close, Tim's scent is much more important than Bruce's own, and his heat makes Bruce shiver.

"Tim. Thank you for this."

Tim sighs. "You're welcome. I..." Tim cups Bruce's face, scraping his bare palms on Bruce's stubble. "You have a choice, you know."

(You must not *waver*!)

Bruce winces and shakes his head --

"The Mission exists across the multiverse, I think. The question is whether the Bat's need for you to live in loneliness and pain does, as well."

Bruce blinks and breathes. "It wants -- it's always wanted me to serve the Mission to the best of my abilities and beyond. If I could do that and still live... live with love --"

"You honestly believe it has your best interests at heart...?" Tim cocks his head to the side. "I've looked through all of our Bruce's old reports. I counted the number of times when Dick's input was what solved a case, or saved the lives of the potential victims, or saved *his* life --"

"Perhaps if your Bruce had used the time he spent training Dick to further improve himself --"

"Do you actually believe that?"

Bruce closes his eyes and breathes in -- Tim. He pulls him closer --

"I believe that's an answer --"

"No one who looked at Dick could believe him to be anything but a valuable ally, a *worthy* partner in every possible way --"

"Exactly. So the question becomes *why* the Bat needs you to be so alone."

"It's -- a delusion --"

"You don't believe that, either, and all of us have seen too much of the supernatural... well. There are such things as *jealous* beings. If you were some variety of mine --"

"I. I am."

Tim rears back and narrows his eyes at him.

Bruce smoothes the frown-lines from Tim's forehead. "I will never forget you. I will always... desire."

Tim closes his eyes and mutters something incomprehensible before leaning in and kissing the corner of Bruce's mouth. He doesn't pull back very far before he says: "I have a terrible habit of trying to keep people to myself, to keep them from the larger world -- however that world is defined -- so as to keep them from learning how much more fun they could have with someone else."

Bruce frowns. "Tim --"

"I was so lonely, Bruce. I -- I think, sometimes, that it's like what happens with people who have starved. They always want to have full pantries. They -- *I* need to know that there'll always be someone for me, someone who loves me, who knows me *well* enough --" Tim cuts himself off and sighs. "It wouldn't be so strange for the Bat to want to keep you to itself."

"You. You find me so desirable?"

Tim pulls back, apparently solely to share his wry smile, which, truly...

"It's difficult to know ahead of time when I'm about to be ridiculous. I'll try harder to develop an early warning system."

"Mm, see that you do," Tim says, and strokes Bruce's chest through his t-shirt. "You'll hurt us when you go."

"I -- I know."

Tim nods once, firming his mouth into a line -- and then relaxing it again. His lipstick is no longer entirely perfect -- much of its gloss is gone -- but he still looks far better-assembled than Bruce feels.

"Tim. You -- this is a gift."

Tim cocks his head to the side again -- but then he nods. "I always feel that way when Jason does this. He's better at it than I am --"

"I have my doubts."

"He's wonderful, Bruce. You -- surely you've seen that by *now* --"

"I have," Bruce says, and makes what he suspects will be a futile effort to repair Tim's hairstyle. "I simply doubt that his touch could be 'better' than this, as opposed to an entirely different sort of transcendent."

"I --" Tim blushes deeply. "Bruce."

"For that you scold me? Tim, I've never *had* this."

"Well -- that's the point. The first one of us to do it would automatically seem --"

"No."

"*Bruce* --"

"Please," Bruce says, and cups the back of Tim's head. "Tell me how I may accept this with honor."

Tim opens his mouth and closes it again almost immediately, frowning somewhat incredulously.

"It was an honest request. I'm afraid... I'm afraid of *many* things, but few things frighten me more than... not doing the right thing. The *correct* thing --"

"There's nothing *correct* about loneliness --"

"Is there correctness in abandoning my universe? In -- what of the you *from* that universe? The Dick and Jason and Stephanie? While I believe I must try to save them from the things which brought them to this life --"

"You still wouldn't precisely *mind* having them be -- no, I was about to be snide. More snide, I suppose," and Tim cups Bruce's shoulders and leans in to breathe his breath again. "Dick told me once that he'd begun seeking out the man responsible for... the thing we're not talking about, *before* you took him in. I can't see his life changing dramatically without you in *that* respect."

"Tim --"

"I think you came here for a reason, Bruce. I think -- I'm terribly romantic-minded, but there *is* more than one thing worth believing in. We've been waiting for you --"

"You've -- mourned a dead man --"

"Bruce. Live for us *and* the Mission. It -- it doesn't have to be two separate things --"

"Do you truly -- no," Bruce says, and frowns. "I am not so desired as this. Not by you."

Tim smiles ruefully, once again looking far, far older than he is --

Than *Bruce* is --

"You can help me make my family happy. I want that -- I want that badly. And you want *me* --"

"You're beautiful, perfect and wise and warm --"

Tim kisses Bruce softly, nibbling a path along Bruce's lips, and then another one after that --

"Tim..."

"You can have me, Bruce. You can have everything you *want* -- well. Almost everything," Tim says, leaning back again and smiling. "Am I dressed to be the wicked temptress...? I *could* be easily -- certainly Dick picked a certain theme for *my* disguise closet..." Tim touches Bruce's swollen lower lip with one finger and shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

Bruce blinks. "I don't -- you needn't apologize --"

"I think you're wrong about that, Bruce. And I honestly hope you never get to know *how* wrong."

He would be in the Cave in his own universe, which is a blank and utilitarian place. He would be alone -- perhaps the Bat would even be silent.

He would realize that he has but little of Dick and his family. He --

A lock of hair? A photograph? The fading memory of fading scents?

He would be alone, and he would remember Tim's seduction and attempts at seduction as *wounds*, terrible and still *bleeding* --

How could he ever *take* that?

How will he -- accept --

He can't.

Bruce shakes his head and leans back --

And Tim nods once and moves from Bruce's lap. He --

He hadn't meant --

Bruce has to *make* him see -- what?

That he's desired? That he has shaken Bruce effortlessly -- no. The first Tim already knows. The second -- no one who could see Tim's eyes would say it was effortless.

"I want..." Bruce swallows and stares at his bare hands. He's in the car, so his hands shouldn't be bare, at all --

That's meaningless --

(You must not *waver*!)

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut --

And Tim takes Bruce's hand and places it on the ignition, gentle and firm, implacable --

"I want you, Tim."

Tim's hand shakes on Bruce's own, but only briefly before he pulls it away and turns to smile at him so *softly* -- "I know."

"Do you --"

"I don't -- I don't know how you can stay with us and still keep *your* definition of honor. I don't think. I don't think we need you enough for that."

The pain for that --

"Oh -- God. And Jason *wonders* why I always want him to do the talking," Tim says and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What I meant... is that you don't have to save us from -- anything. Or rather, you already *did* save us."

Bruce frowns. "I don't understand --"

"Dick was holding himself back from us. You -- broke his capacity to do that. Now, we're all together, and we'll be even *more* of a family with Steph there..." Tim bites his lower lip.

"I see. And... you'll have Clark."

"He's so -- he keeps us all warm. All the time. Even when Jason's yelling and cursing at him, he still knows that Clark will always be there --oh. God. I did it again, didn't I?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "You must -- I would hate it were you to ever censor yourself around me."

Tim looks at him from under his lashes, an expression of a curiously shy *menace* in his eyes. "Dick said that you broke him of cursing with next to no effort on your part."

"I... my father was quite vehement in his dislike of rough language, and about the loss of respect he felt when a peer -- or a stranger -- cursed in front of him."

"Forgive me, Bruce, but you hardly live a life your parents would've *approved* of -- going by my own research and everything Dick has told me, I mean."

Bruce lets his smile grow wider. "What does that tell you?"

Tim opens his mouth -- and blushes. "You strive to do everything you can that *would* please them. This -- that's one of the ways your sense of honor works, yes, I see," Tim says and nods thoughtfully. "We can't compete with the dead."

"Tim, it's not a competition --"

"No? Are you saying that your love for your late parents isn't driving your need to save Dick before he can become yours? Not even a little bit?"

Perhaps he was due for a blush, for something else to share with this wonderful boy -- "I believe you know me better than I know myself, in at least some respects."

Tim smiles. "You were busy learning how to be the best Batman you could be, and teaching Dick to be the best Robin. I was *studying* you and Dick, and psychology, and all sorts of other things..." Tim touches his tongue to his upper lip and narrows his eyes in a very complex-looking pleasure. "I'm not going to stop asking you to stay with us."

Bruce feels his heart beating much too fast, and control is something --

Something outside the bounds of this car. "I want. Perhaps you'll let me hold you for some time tonight. In... your bed?"

Tim makes a face. "I never sleep there. Come to *Jason's* bed."

Bruce feels himself *flush* --

"Yes, he's incredible. And somehow he gets *better* with every new scar."

"I -- he hasn't. He doesn't --"

"He *kissed* you. He doesn't actually do that with people he doesn't want to make love with. He's entirely aware of what a cliché that is, and none of us actually argue the point with him, and -- " Tim moves Bruce's hand back to the ignition. "I'll be asleep in his bed by the time he gets home and you're done reading the files... but I'll also be waiting for you."

"What. What of Dick?"

Tim hums. "That's an excellent question which will absolutely guarantee that I'll have a powerful erection in my sleep. Let's *go*."

Bruce drives, and forces himself to only devote a fraction of his attention to the small and lovely -- hm. "Tim..."

"Yes?"

"Would you prefer it if I thought of you as female?"

Tim blinks. "You -- I wasn't aware that it was something -- but of course *you* could do that," he says, laughing and shaking his head. "I -- um. Think of me the way you think of me. The way that seems most correct to *you*."

"You... you are androgyne..."

"When I'm playing myself just right...?"

Bruce shakes his head and doesn't *turn* -- "Like that, I'm more confused than anything else."

Tim hums and reaches out to rest a hand against Bruce's ribs through the t-shirt. Bruce isn't injured there, but the contact is still soothing -- "You're tempting me to wear makeup to bed."

"Wouldn't that damage your skin...?"

"Badly, considering my adolescence and my combination skin. Still --"

"I would like to see you without your makeup. If you're amenable."

"I. I don't like me as much --"

"You must be comfortable --"

"I don't *think* -- oh. You were saying that you would take me however I felt most comfortable?"

Bruce nods and pulls slowly into the Cave.

"Um. Okay. Okay. I'll still just -- I'll be waiting for you. Tell Dick I'll do my report after I sleep? I need to run away from you right now."

"I've -- please tell me --"

"You didn't say anything wrong. Or do anything wrong. And that's the problem. Damn it," Tim says, and smiles shakily.

"Tim --"

"You just -- have to stop being perfect. You *need* me!"

"I want -- I." What would be the *purpose* of a politic lie? "I never knew I could, but yes."

Tim nods -- not slowly -- and bites his lip again --

And then he growls and leans across the center console to kiss Bruce, hard and sharp --

His teeth are no smaller than they should be for his body, but --

Bruce cups the back of Tim's head and holds him still, making the kiss less sharp and more *deep* --

Tim moans and grips the *cowl* --

He shouldn't have pulled it back down --

Tim turns away and pants, and Bruce can't stop himself from pressing a soft kiss to Tim's downy cheek.

"Oh -- God, Bruce --"

"Tell me..."

"No," Tim says, pulling back and opening the passenger door. He takes his chest armor with him --

And he does, in fact, jog *briskly* toward the hampers and robes.

Bruce indulges himself by covering his face with his hands, but it *is* an indulgence -- he can smell Tim's cologne *and* the gel he uses for his hair. The mixture of scents is both natural and unnatural, and intoxicating --

Tim will be waiting for him.

Bruce gives Tim five more full minutes to strip and run up the stairs -- he's quite sure Tim will need far less than that -- and then he steps out of the car. He fills the gas tank and checks the tires for major problems. He checks the oil and radiator fluid.

And then he moves to strip himself, noting that Harvey is seated at the table with J'onn, and that he seems calm and relaxed. They both do -- though of course Bruce has no reference for J'onn's behavior or posture but what the man gives him.

Bruce nods to them, strips down to his t-shirt,-briefs, and jock, puts on a robe, and then moves to join them. He can't stop himself from squeezing Harvey's shoulder, even though it puts him in a position to *loom* --

Harvey smiles up at him wryly. "You started stripping in the car, big guy?"

Bruce blushes --

"Uh, huh. So tell me that it's okay that Cardinal -- *Tim* -- tore up out of here like he was being chased by the Furies."

Bruce shakes his head. "I believe... he realized that I needed him."

Harvey frowns. "And that's a problem? I mean, you need all of these guys. *And* the girl, too, judging by the way you were looking at her earlier."

J'onn clears his -- J'onn makes a sound as if he's clearing his throat and leans back to take in both of them.

"Yeah, J'onn?"

"I am reminded of how your memories suggest you felt when you realized Bruce needed *you*, Harvey."

"Ah -- Jesus. Uh. Yeah, there's that. Heh," and Harvey pats the table in front of the chair to his right.

Bruce sits and smiles ruefully. "Were you tempted to run from me?"

"No!"

J'onn clears his throat again --

"Okay, so *why* do I get the inhuman lie detector treatment? I've been *cooperative* over here!"

J'onn's chuckle is easier to *feel* than hear, since it registers quite deeply. "Please, forgive me. We are all quite accustomed to Dick's family never allowing any of us to be deceitful."

"Even Tim?"

Harvey elbows him -- "Are you saying little guy's a liar?"

"He called himself that. I... I am not sure I would classify anything he said as a lie, for all that some of it wasn't true."

Harvey frowns at him. "Uh. What?"

Bruce smiles again. "We talked about much tonight, and some of it... some of our discussion concerned things which Tim himself isn't sure of, in terms of his own feelings and beliefs."

Harvey nods thoughtfully. "All right, I can see it," he says, and nods at J'onn. "So they call you guys out all the time?"

"They have little patience for the sorts of lies which would get in the way of the Mission, whether or not those lies are gentle ones, or small ones..." J'onn smiles more widely. "Dick explained to the League exactly how fleeting life could be. None of us could question his... expertise."

"And yet he lied -- to at least some extent -- about his own feelings for his brothers," Bruce says, and gives himself permission to cover Harvey's hand with his own --

Harvey smiles at him, quick and small and tired at once --

And J'onn inclines his head. "I was aware of his feelings for his brothers, and we even spoke about it once -- though much of the conversation was about how he had taken Clark into his confidence on the matter, and thus how he had, to his mind, neutralized the problem before it could truly become one."

Harvey shakes his head. "No offence, guy, but the whole lack of privacy thing has *got* to get a little stressful for your friends."

J'onn smiles again. "I am seen as the unnerving neutral party more often than not. I help to keep all of us as honest as possible... and I strive not to spend too much time with any one individual."

Harvey winces. "Okay, so now I feel guilty. Uh -- you know *I'm* not rushing you off, yeah?"

"Yes," J'onn says. "It is all right, I assure you. Many people in our community are, as Arsenal would say, 'allergic to privacy.' And all of them know that I will only look beyond the thoughts they broadcast when the Mission calls for it."

"Like it did for me. Heh, yeah, okay, I can see it. It's not like humans -- and otherwise -- aren't pretty good at picking up broadcast thoughts when they put their minds to it."

"You were always brilliant at that," Bruce says, and squeezes Harvey's hand. "It's a skill I only began to develop after you befriended me."

"Aw, big guy --"

"Harv. You explicitly *taught* me how to do it."

"Well -- okay, but that was for *girls*. Women, I mean. Or -- girls for you. Or -- Christ, I'm not getting used to that --"

"I would never ask you to --"

"I *know* that," Harvey says, and laughs a little. "And I wanted to run screaming when I realized you needed me, but that was *mostly* because I'd never much seen the *good* side of need by the time I was fourteen."

It's tempting to look to J'onn for confirmation of that --

"Ah, jeez. J'onn, help me out here."

"Harvey is telling the truth. He learned much about the darker side of humanity while still a child, and much of human psychology can be considered as a question of multiple facets of individual wholes."

"*That*, right there," Harvey says, jabbing his finger at the air. "Because, in the end, there's the need that exists between two friends -- two *real good friends* -- but it's not any bigger or more powerful than the need that exists between two real *bad* enemies -- or a guy and a bottle of cheap bourbon."

Bruce winces. "I can't believe that --"

"No, big guy? So that *wasn't* you funneling all kinds of money to drug-and-alcohol rehab centers just like someone who *knew* how badly the city -- heh -- needed it?"

"I must -- there are some things, some *emotions* which must be greater than their darker reflections --"

"They *feel* a lot better -- and cleaner -- but the dark ones are just as powerful, Bruce. I -- trust me?" And Harvey's smile is gentle and rueful --

*Beautiful* -- "I'll always trust you --"

"Yeah, about that," Harvey says, sighing and standing. "If you'll excuse me for just a bit, J'onn --"

"Please, do not worry about me," J'onn says, and raises a hand. "It was always my plan to spend some little while in quiet stasis before Jason returned."

"Stasis?"

"Aw, hey, I didn't mean to keep you away from your... uh. Stasis?"

J'onn hums, deep in his chest. "I assure you, Harvey, you were not bothering me in any way. I find you to be most fascinating, which is rare with people into whom I've delved so deeply."

Harvey colors. "Ah -- thanks. You're an interesting guy yourself."

J'onn inclines his head again before turning his glowing eyes on Bruce. "Martians only approached that state humans think of as sleep as children. As we aged, the nearest we could come was a kind of... half-step outside of this plane of existence. Like so," J'onn says, and... fades. Not entirely -- he's still visible -- but everything *behind* him is also visible beyond a translucent green wash. And his eyes are no longer glowing.

Harvey is staring.

Bruce wishes to learn more *immediately* -- but J'onn shows no signs of coming back.

"Well. I guess that was an answer, big guy," Harvey says, and claps Bruce on the shoulder.

Bruce frowns. "Superman doesn't sleep, either."

"No? Not -- well, okay, I guess that would explain why he's all over the world at all times of the day and night. Damn. Does *he* go into stasis?"

"He said that he is capable of it when gravely injured -- that he can appear dead to even deep analysis -- but he didn't mention that as an alternative to sleep."

Harvey sucks his teeth and shakes his head. "I gotta say, that's messed up pretty bad. Still, so long as it works for *them*... c'mon," he says, standing. "You gotta read my file."

Bruce swallows. "Yes. I will," and he stands and leads them to the console. Harvey pushes him into the largest chair and leans over him to bring up the file --

And the picture is terrible. The picture --

It's unmistakably Harvey's body -- in the photograph, he's wearing only two-tone briefs, and it's the body Bruce has sketched countless *times* --

Harvey tilts Bruce's head up, forcing him to look at the *face* --

"Harv --"

"Acid from a Maroni capo did that the first time. Then you paid to get me fixed up. Experimental skin grafts, the whole nine. Then I dipped my own head in acid again, because I didn't *feel* right unless I could show the world what the inside of my head looked like."

Bruce swallows and looks, and there are places where Harvey's face looks almost *melted*. The damage flows down over his left shoulder, onto the left pectoral --

"Apparently, I didn't have full use of that arm -- so it became the hand I most often put the gun in."

Bruce wants to shake his head, to *deny* --

And Harvey moves to enlarge mug shots. *Endless* mug shots, representing arrest after arrest. In some of the photographs, he's bruised and obviously beaten on top of being scarred --

"You -- I did that to you."

"Or Robin did, or Jim did..." Harvey sighs. "Notice how I'm rarely beat up *too* badly, big guy?"

"I could never -- I would never want to hurt you more than was absolutely necessary."

"Yeah. I'm thinking I knew that. Or he did. I'm also thinking he used it against you at least once or twice," and Harvey pulls up a text document. "Here's the psych profile you did on me after I broke out and killed sixteen different people before you could catch me again. *Sixteen*, Bruce."

"Harv --"

"Read it, will you?"

Bruce reaches up and catches Harvey's wrist --

"Hey, don't worry, I'm sitting right here. *I* plan to memorize that thing just in case I ever start to backslide."

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut --

"No, Bruce."

Bruce takes a breath, nods, opens his eyes, and reads.

With everything Dick's family has been telling him over the past few days, there is nothing in the report which is truly surprising. However, taken as a whole --

The knowledge he'd had about Harvey's father, the *abuse* he'd allowed to continue --

He'd never even invited -- "Harv."

"I'm listening, big guy."

"Did you. Did you ever wish I'd invited you to stay with me over the holidays?"

Harvey looks at him, and his smile is gentle and soft. "I used to fantasize about it a little, yeah. The fantasies always fell apart, though."

"Because I never did?"

"Because I knew -- in my *bones* -- that Alfred would hate having me around."

"Harv, no --"

"Easy, easy. I know he likes me *now*, and I even figured out that he liked me pretty good back then. But I --" Harvey shakes his head. "All I could think about was all the little rules and social graces I just didn't *know* until you taught them to me, and how it never occurred to you to teach me everything --"

"I *would* have -- but they aren't *important* --"

"I know that, too. Now. But I was a scared and messed-up kid back then, big guy. And I needed to be a little golden for you. I figured -- all it would take was Alfred pointing out *how* much of a peasant I really was --"

"*Harv* --"

"Bruce. Work with me, here. I was *messed-up*. And we were both too damned young to figure out how to fix me."

Bruce frowns. "I wanted you with me. All -- all the time."

Harvey opens his mouth -- closes it again. "Bruce..."

"I wanted... I used to fantasize about you telling me what I had to do to keep you at my side forever."

Harvey sighs. "And maybe you would've crawled into my big ol' bed if I'd come over?"

"I -- at the time, I probably would've just loomed over you in the dark."

That gets him a snort and a light punch to the shoulder. "Yeah? What about *now*?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I'd touch your shoulder. Eventually."

Harvey snickers and changes the document to --

"Oh. A list of your crimes."

"Uh, hunh. With as much detail as *Dick* could stand -- because this document didn't *exist* in my file until he put it there."

Bruce winces --

"Go on, big guy. You can do this."

There are thefts, kidnappings, destruction of properties --

And there are murders. A seemingly endless list of *murders* -- but a part of Bruce's mind is counting them, even as he reads about the victims. *Many* of them were other criminals, but most were innocents -- including people who had tried to *help* Harvey --

He counts them, and he counts them, and when he gets to the end --

"Those were just the murders they were sure about," Bruce says, and looks to Harvey again. "Weren't they?"

Harvey nods, face set. "Do you see now, big guy?"

Bruce frowns. "I see *you* --"

Harvey points to the main monitor. "That's me, too. That's me missing a whole lot of luck and even more self-control. Tell me you can see it."

"Harv, what is it you want? For me to be suspicious of you? Wary of the man who taught me about friendship and *brotherhood*?"

"You can't tell me you weren't at least a little wary of your senseis, Bruce."

"I --" Bruce shakes his head and goes looking through the highly-intuitively-organized files --

And then he calls up the psych profile on himself he'd known would be there.

"What -- oh, Jesus. You did this to yourself?"

"I think... I think I must have had to, Harv," Bruce says, and turns to look the document over as Harvey reads himself. Once again, there are no true surprises, but this time it's more a matter of feeling the resonance of his most terrible and unflattering insights as absolute truth than a matter of remembering what he's been told --

"Aw, that's -- you're not *weak*, Bruce --"

"I can't -- I can't let go of you."

"You let go enough to let me get *married*. Hell, you let go enough to travel the world and start pretending -- " Harvey frowns and shakes his head.

"I wish. I wish I'd told you everything from the beginning --"

"*Without* strapping me down for some serious therapy?"

"Without -- if we could've shared the fractures in our minds --"

"The fractures would've still *been* there, big guy, and no, that doesn't mean you're weak. Unless I'm a complete fucking pussy."

"Harv --"

"Sorry, sorry, my language got away from me --"

"I won't -- I won't even try to stop you from using rough language anymore --"

"What? Suddenly I'm a hopeless case?"

Bruce blinks rapidly -- "No! It's only -- I can't imagine guiding Dick's family away from that sort of thing --"

"And you're already starting to think of them as *your* family. With *me*."

"Harv --"

Harvey looks at him from under his lashes, and it's a *dare* to contradict him.

Bruce -- can't. But he can take Harvey's hands in his own and squeeze them, try to warm them --

"The little guy -- Tim. You need him."

"I. I had a moment's fantasy earlier of taking him with me when I left."

"Uh." Harvey blinks and stares at him. "You know you... I mean, these guys *are* all a family."

"Yes. I know -- I wouldn't."

"But he saw that you needed -- what *are* you gonna do without him?"

Bruce smiles ruefully and brings Harvey's hands to his mouth, kissing the palms --

"Bruce --"

"The same thing I'll do without you, Harv: follow the Mission."

Harvey frowns, elegant brow wrinkling -- "Didn't he ask you to stay?"

"He... he tried to seduce me into it."

"It didn't work?"

"I must -- there is *duty*, Harv --"

"And *you* think that psych profile is -- some damned *prison* sentence, don't you?"

Bruce blinks. "Harv?"

Harvey twists his hands free and points at the monitor again. "You think you have to live up to that."

"No, I. It's who I am --"

"It's who you *were*. *Here*. Before you *died*. Just like the psych profile you did of me was right. It's not anymore. And -- look at you. 'Subject will never be comfortable discussing his emotional difficulties with others?' Are you saying that's still true?"

"I'm -- I'm hardly *comfortable* right now, Harv --"

"Yeah, but you're still *doing* it. With *me*. With *Superman*. With Dick and Jason and Tim. Hell, eventually you might even talk to a *girl* -- especially since there's one right here."

Bruce frowns more deeply. "It's true that I've planned to be as honest as possible, Harv, but I..."

Harvey looks at him very -- very *firmly* --

And Bruce realizes that he has no idea how to finish his sentence. "Hm."

Harvey laughs and claps Bruce's shoulder again. "Yeah, it takes a little time to get used to being a whole new person. The good part is that you have people who are ready, willing, and able to *help* you deal with it."

"I want to help *you*. I've always wanted to help you --"

"And you always did. Right from the beginning with you acting like I was just like everyone else, only *better*." Harvey shakes his head. "We couldn't be everything for each other, but I don't think that's so bad, big guy."

"For a long time, I believed that all I would ever truly need emotionally was your regard. Your -- your love for me."

Harvey nods. "I always knew I needed more than that... ah, big guy, it's like I always said -- you need *people*. All kinds of people."

Bruce smiles wryly. "And I pointed out that the people surrounding us weren't the worthiest sorts in the world."

"Heh. You can't do *that* anymore, now can you?"

"No, I can't. Dick's family... they're all so *dedicated*, Harv."

"Just like you like 'em."

"Yes, but also..." Bruce shakes *his* head. "I've come to believe that all of them faced tragedy before coming to this life, and nearly all of them have found ways to tell me that they wouldn't welcome those tragedies being prevented."

Harvey frowns. "And that surprises you? I mean, let's face it, big guy -- I would've loved to escape my old man back in the day, for at least a little while at a time, but I *can't* make myself want it to happen before I met you, because it all helped turn me *into* the guy you fell for. I don't know *all* the details, but you needed someone *just* like me -- meaning someone who needed a smart, gentle, *good* friend in turn. And *knew* it. Maybe I wouldn't have been so *aware* of how much I needed you if that old bastard hadn't smacked me around so much. Maybe I would've taken you for *granted*."

"You don't take *anything* for granted, Harv --"

"*Exactly*. And I already know how much that does it for you. These kids and Dick -- they don't take anything for granted, either. And that *includes* all the hard times they must've had. Jesus, I can't even *imagine* what Tim would've had to go through with his parents, a kid like that."

"I don't believe he behaved that way always. He... intimated that he'd changed himself after meeting Jason."

"Yeah? I guess. Still, in my experience, that kind of gay goes right down to the bone. And even *liberal* parents screw that up most of the time. Hunh. I wonder if that's gotten any better here."

"He does wear lip gloss to school."

Harvey waves a hand. "That's rich-boy school. It isn't even *boarding* rich-boy school. The kind of money he's waving around at a place like *that*? I'm betting he could show up in a cute little pantsuit and heels so long as they matched the school colors."

Bruce blinks.

Harvey snorts at him. "You just had a happy thought."

"He -- he did say he was willing to... dress. For me."

"*That's* your kink?"

Well...

"Wait, no, do I *wanna* know?"

Bruce smiles. "I thought you looked very beautiful in your white tuxedo, Harv."

Harvey smacks the back of Bruce's head. "Back to the *important* stuff."

"As you say --"

"You can't lock yourself up in any prisons of -- of the *mind* or anything like that. You're a different person than you used to be. If that person was no good? I'd be all for you backsliding. But you're wonderful, big guy. And now you're just -- you're *showing* people how wonderful you are, and opening up like you were always supposed to -- ah, no, I can't do this."

"Harv?"

"You -- you say you can't let go of me?"

"Yes."

Harvey smiles ruefully. "*I* say I can't let go of the guy who rolled around on the grass with me."

Oh -- "You never *have* to --"

"I do, though. When I go find Gilda, and wind up in some universe where the you never told me the truth, the you never touched my shoulder in the dark..." Harvey sighs and leans back in his chair, staring up at the stalactites and blinking rapidly.

Bruce takes Harvey's nearer hand again and chafes it --

"Bruce."

"Yes."

"What am I gonna do with you, hunh? You're the only family I've ever *had*."

Bruce squeezes hard. "Gilda --"

"No, you're right, she's my family, too. Listens to all my bullshit, my hopes and dreams and fantasies -- just like you," Harvey says, and tilts his head back down to smile at Bruce sadly. "I guess I should be asking what I'll do *without* you."

Bruce -- reminds himself not to squeeze any harder. "She -- she might have been returned to our universe --"

"And if so, you'll be right there, and we can *really* show Gotham something. I..." Harvey sighs. "I want that. But I'm pretty damned sure we're not gonna get it."

So is he.

So --

But he *can't*. He has to hold on to something like hope --

(Despair will strike, but you will not succumb!)

Bruce blinks and sits back, considering --

"Bruce...?"

Bruce holds up a hand and -- of course the Bat could follow him here. He carries the thing within himself, and has since he was a boy. But *that* admonition. That *order*...

"Did you... hear? Something?"

Bruce touches his tongue to the backs of his teeth. "No. I don't think I did. I don't think I did, at all," and the smile hurts -- *badly* -- which is more than enough warning that it's a freakish thing on his face --

He doesn't truly need to see Harvey *recoil* --

"Uh. Big guy?"

"I've never... I've never been *sure* before, Harv. You --" Bruce shakes his head and turns back to the console, scrolling down the report on his psyche until he can select --

"'Subject is prone to delusions and the hearing of voices when agitated or otherwise emotionally distressed.' Hey, now, lots of people have crap in their heads, big guy --"

"Yes. Yes. And it almost always turns out to be a matter of the mind in question turning on itself using the weapons of memory and suffering."

"*That*, yes, and you -- you got a lot of bad memories --"

"I do, yes," Bruce says, and he still can't stop himself from smiling. "It's only... a part of me was convinced that the voice I heard was *real*."

"Oh. Really?"

Bruce nods. "It seemed to bring with it... stone and cold and dust. The merciless weight of perfect justice, perfect *purpose*..."

"Okay..."

Bruce laughs, breathless enough that it barely makes a sound. "Oh, Harv, it's been so long since I've been *sure* that the voice I heard wasn't real."

Harvey bites his lip and nods slowly, judiciously... "How -- what made you realize it wasn't real this time?"

"I was thinking about hope, about how it's important for me to hold on to it for our universe, and then the voice said something about I mustn't succumb to despair. It -- it is, perhaps, a *little* thing, but when I was eight, the Bat -- that's what I call it --"

"What? You -- wait, no, go on."

Bruce nods. "When I was eight, the Bat *fed* on my hurt and despair. It used it to hone me, and my resolve to never again let another child feel the way I did."

Harvey winces and rears back again. "Big guy, you -- it rode you like that?"

"Rode me... yes, I suppose that *is* a good way to put it. It was always superior, always sure and correct --"

"Not if it was *hurting* you, Bruce --"

"There are some kinds of pain which are -- oh." Bruce laughs again. "I was about to quote the thing. Or the incredibly *fertile* plains of my own mind. Or -- oh, Harv, the *idea* of it not being real, of it being something I could put *aside* --"

Harvey stands up and paces a short distance away -- but he comes back almost immediately, crouching by Bruce's chair and cupping Bruce's knees. "Do that. Do *that*. Because you don't need anything telling you to hurt yourself."

"Harv, it's all right --"

"It's *not*. I -- God, what do you think I've been *doing* with J'onn? I had so many guns pointed at myself -- some kind of internal freaking *firing* squad. And it made me *run*, Bruce. Run from the truth, run from *myself*. And you just saw what the me from this universe ran *to*."

Bruce searches Harvey for a moment, reaches out to stroke his broad cheekbones, his faintly coppery skin --

"Bruce --"

"Yes, Harv. I understand. I won't let it --" Bruce shakes his head. "I'll only listen to *reasonable* advice."

Harvey still looks troubled, and he strokes Bruce's thighs restlessly, firmly --

"It -- there's a weight which has been lifted --"

"I know that, big guy, I do. I just don't like the fact that I didn't *know* about that weight."

"I always knew that I had to keep it a secret, Harv. Even before it began to tell me that I had to spend my life alone and apart --"

"*Jesus*, Bruce --"

"I think. I think it's wrong. About that. I mean -- I think that *I* was wrong. Or..." Bruce frowns and shakes his head. "It's difficult to talk about. I never imagined I would, and now I've brought it up *twice* tonight --"

"You talked about this with *Tim*?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "He already knew, because the Bruce from this universe had told Dick about it when they began making love."

"You... I *wanna* say that that's not anything *like* an appropriate conversation for a kid, but -- fuck, you were younger than Dick was. You..." Harvey frowns again and stands, pulling Bruce up to join him. The hug is hard and warm, loving and *worried* --

"I'm all right, Harv --"

"*I'm* not, so just keep hugging."

"You never have to ask," Bruce says, and kisses Harvey's cheek as gently and chastely as he can --

And Harvey shivers, much as Tim had, but doesn't pull away. He strokes Bruce's sides through the robe -- and then he opens Bruce's robe and chafes and rubs at him through his t-shirt.

"I love you, Harv."

Harvey shivers again. "I know. I know. And that voice -- it tried to keep you away from me, yeah?"

"Yes."

"But you couldn't."

"No."

"See -- see, too many things make too much *sense* right now, and I --" Harvey cuts himself off and hugs Bruce tighter, rubs his relatively smooth cheek against Bruce's own --

"You -- your face will be irritated --"

"I need to *feel* you, because -- because of all the times that *fucking* voice kept you away. And I had my own voices keeping *me* away -- God, *Bruce*," Harvey says, pulling back enough to look Bruce in the eye. "You see what I mean about prisons, don't you? Look what we *did* to ourselves!"

"We made it here --"

"By *accident*. And I -- maybe this is too fucking superstitious for me to face with my *right* mind, but Bruce -- we gotta take advantage. We gotta do *right* by ourselves for once. Tell me you *understand*."

Right now, Tim is waiting for him in Jason's bed.

Dick has his own --

Dick's bed is the one he'd shared with *his* Bruce --

Stephanie is sleeping -- perhaps -- in a suburb on Gotham's opposite side -- but she wouldn't want --

Tim wants him to be part of a *family*.

Harvey --

Bruce swallows. "If -- if only some of the things said were delusions --"

"Then the rest are fucking *crazy*, big guy! You shut yourself up so tight, so fucking far *away* from the rest of us -- you don't know how many *times* I caught myself talking about the guy you used to be with Jim only to have you dump *punch* on him or something --"

Bruce winces, but -- "It's still -- if he knew the secret --"

"So you don't *tell* him the secret. It's not like he hasn't already guessed. Hell, he sounded me *out* for it months ago and I just didn't twig..." Harvey shakes his head and bites his lip. "You never say the word Batman to him and he never has to lock your ass up for being *psychotic* and also fucking *violent*."

"I do try to direct my more violent tendencies appropriately --"

Harvey laughs and smacks him again. "You. I get worried if I think too hard about punching some smarmy defense attorney in the face. *You* go out and dangle people off rooftops by the ankle. *After* breaking their noses --"

"Sometimes their teeth, too."

Harvey glares at him.

Bruce smiles cautiously --

And the glare seems to melt from Harvey's face. He's beautiful. He's always *been* beautiful --

"Harv..."

"The violence was in you all along, maybe?"

"I used to get into terrible fights with bullies when I was nine years old. Alfred told me that he would wall off every entrance to the Cave he could find if I didn't stop."

Harvey winces. "Okay, yeah, I guess I can see it. It's not like you've ever liked seeing people get picked on."

Bruce shakes his head.

"You -- God, I can't believe I'm remembering this *now*, but -- okay. You wanna know what made me the maddest I've ever been at you?"

"Tell me, Harv."

"*Lex*. *That* fucking guy -- and *no* one can tell me that he's not up to something in that damned tower of his --"

Bruce winces again --

"What? You're secretly his friend or something? Please say no. *Please* --"

"He's the one -- he caused the rifts in space-time in our universe."

"*What*? *Lex*?"

Bruce nods once. "It's not well known, but he's a supervillain. He was trying to pull a being to earth who would be stronger than Superman. How he expected to control the individual or beast in question, I don't know --"

"He took. He took Gilda," Harvey says, and his voice is low and dangerous --

Oh. "Harvey. You'll find her."

"He put Gilda -- and *millions* of other people --" Harvey steps back and covers his face with his hands, breathing rapidly and harshly.

Bruce can't stop himself from looking in J'onn's direction --

At just the wrong time.

Harvey's smile is a twisted one. "A part of you just thought about me putting two bullets in Lex's brain, yeah?"

"Harv --"

"Didn't you?"

"It. It wasn't a specific fear."

"But it *was* a fear, and I -- fuck if I didn't ask for just that," Harvey says, turning away --

"Harv, please --"

"No, I -- what did you do to him?"

"I beat him. Badly. I..." Bruce swallows and *admits* things to himself -- "Some of the injuries will be... difficult to heal from."

Harvey nods, but doesn't turn back to face him. "Was he still the boy you saved from a beating by some of the less *enlightened* members of the Exeter football team?"

Some of those boys had thought of Harvey as a friend -- if casually. But. "I haven't been able to see that boy for many years, Harv."

Harvey raises his eyebrows, and --

"He had his father murdered not long after we graduated. Neither I nor Superman were ever able to find conclusive proof --"

"Jesus. Jesus. The number of times I thought about just -- just hitting my old man *back* for more than just to *stop* him from hitting me. And then maybe I'd do it a few times, and a few more times..." Harvey laughs and it sounds pained, *dark* -- "I know you can't really... really *hear* things like that without... ah. Yeah. I'm sorry."

Bruce nods. He can't --

He can't.

"And this -- yeah. This is what you mean about how Dick won't give you any clues to let you figure out how to save his parents. Or -- whatever he had before winding up with you, yeah?"

"I --"

"'Subject is dangerously obsessed with the concept of parenthood, and with the concept of a healthy, "nuclear" family.'"

Bruce looks down at the floor --

And Harvey is right there, cupping Bruce's jaw and forcing him to face him again. "You can't look down on him for that. Maybe what he came from was ugly. Maybe you saving him would just mean... years of getting hurt. *Beaten* until he can escape when he's eighteen."

"That's -- he didn't imply that, even vaguely --"

"Okay." Harvey strokes Bruce's cheek with his thumb and smiles. "Maybe he had the *perfect* life, hunh? Maybe it was hearts and flowers, wine and song, the whole nine."

"Yes. Yes, you see --"

"I *see* -- that he thinks having you was even better than what he had. That you're the man of his dreams. That even having to watch you *die* wasn't enough to make him regret even a second of having you, and -- God, Bruce, I'd feel the *same*."

"Harv?"

"And you're actually asking that question instead of kissing me. *Jesus*, big guy, somebody needs to have a talk with the voices in *your* head," Harvey says, leaning in and kissing him firmly as his eyes track fast behind the lids.

Bruce cups Harvey's face and makes the kiss deeper, makes it more --

He *wants* it to be more, but he can't be sure what he wants it to be more *than* --

It doesn't matter, because Harvey's mouth is hot, wet, flavored with Alfred's coffee and something far sweeter --

Harvey hums and cups Bruce's hips, squeezing -- gently, not hard. Bruce doesn't press as close as he wants to -- and Harvey smiles into the kiss and backs off. "Who was it?"

"Harv?"

"Which of them were you thinking about? Wait, what did you even *do* with the little guy?"

Bruce blinks. "I was thinking about you. You weren't as... passionate as you could've been."

*Harvey* blinks -- and licks his lips, obviously studying something behind his own eyes. After a long moment, he nods once. "A part of me is still thinking about the hurt I'm gonna put on Lex fucking Luthor the next chance I get."

"Don't -- his bodyguards are *assassins*, Harv."

Another blink -- and then he narrows his eyes. "He doesn't *sleep* with them --"

"One of them is his lover."

"Big guy, help me out here. I *need* to get that guy's hairless little sac in a *vise* for this."

"If it helps, I did punch him there."

Harvey nods thoughtfully. "That does help, yeah. Break any teeth?"

"Three."

"His nose?"

"Carefully. It was hard not to drive the bone into his brain."

Harvey opens his mouth -- and closes it again almost immediately.

"That was... too much."

Harvey cocks his head to the side and smiles ruefully. "Maybe that voice gave you the kind of leash you needed?"

"Eventually, yes. I can't -- I can't let it go entirely. I would be afraid of myself if I did."

Harvey rests his hands on Bruce's chest, strokes up to Bruce's shoulders -- "I'm holding on to Gilda."

"You'll find her."

"Yeah. Yeah. And then -- after she beats the hell outta me for not being able to keep my hands off *you* --"

"Is she. Very jealous?"

Harvey blinks again. "She used to be, yeah. I'd made a rep for myself at Yale as a horndog. Lots of women coming up to me, making eyes or more... it took a while for the word to get out that I was serious about Gilda, and even then some of those girls didn't care. She'd get mad at me if I told them off and mad at me if I was gentle and mad at me if I ignored them... for a while, I didn't know *what* to do."

"What helped?"

Harvey smiles. "Time, mostly. She told me back before we got married that seeing me there every day made her stop feeling like she wasn't good enough for me. I got pissed because I'd told her a thousand times that she was the best, that there was *no* other woman I wanted the way I wanted her, and then she pointed out that there were a few life lessons I had to learn for *myself*, too." Harvey strokes back down to Bruce's chest. "You wouldn't have to worry about that here, I don't think, big guy."

"The... they don't seem to be very jealous people, no. Though Tim told me -- perhaps warned me -- that he tended to try to keep people to himself."

"With the girl, yeah? Stephanie. I... so he maybe thinks of her as a... sister? What?"

"I believe he's in love with her. In... certain constrained ways."

Harvey coughs a laugh -- and then sobers himself quickly. "Ah, strike that moment of hilarity from the record, please."

Bruce nods.

And Harvey smiles at him. "You're a violent, teenager-screwing, crazy bastard."

"Yes."

"But somehow -- somehow you're still *you*. How's that work, hunh?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps your desire for me to be the man you fell in love with is coloring your perceptions."

Harvey snorts and smacks him again. "Stop that. I get it. We *are* still gonna look at each other a little funny for a *while*, you know."

For a long while, Bruce hopes. And he smiles and nods. "I would learn about you -- and from you -- for the rest of my life."

Harvey shivers and laughs again. "Okay, whaddaya know, those little declarations of yours are getting easier to take."

"Yes?"

Harvey cups the back of Bruce's head and pulls him into a hard, brief kiss. "No matter where I am, you'll be with me, big guy."

Don't say goodbye *yet* -- "And you'll be with me."

Harvey frowns and searches him -- "Do I let that slide? 'cause I don't think I let that slide."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "One of the things the... voice explained to me was that the more honest I was with the people surrounding me, the more honest I would have to *remain* -- however unwillingly."

"Yeah, well, you're a *smart* guy. C'mon, what was that?"

Bruce steps back and takes Harvey's hands in his own again. "It's only... it seemed you were leaving already. Leaving -- me."

Harvey winces. "I -- should I stop talking about Gilda with you?"

"Oh -- no, never, please. I care about Gilda a great deal --"

"You -- uh. She thinks you're pretty useless, big guy. I know you did that on *purpose*, but --"

"It made it harder for you. I know, and I'm sorry. I can never regain the time I've squandered with you --"

"This -- it's like old times. Right down to how we're still figuring each other out, yeah?"

"I was never satisfied when I was far from the Cave, but I was always happy when you were near."

"And -- another one. Right in the heart, yet," and Harvey's smile is crooked and rueful and full. "Were *you* jealous of Gilda?"

"I've been jealous of everyone you've allowed to make love with you."

Harvey nods. "Yeah, okay, I can see it. Just so you know? Most of the time, it wasn't making love, at all. Sometimes I think I *didn't* make love until Gilda. And now you."

"Oh, Harv..." Bruce smiles a bit helplessly. "That was a wonderful declaration."

Harvey blows on his fingernails and buffs them on his moderately rumpled shirt -- there's no sign of the jacket they'd stained. "I learned from the master. Tell me who you're screwing tonight."

"I -- what?"

Another *full* smile --

"Hm. Tim invited me... to Jason's bed."

Harvey coughs another laugh. "Does Jason *know* that?"

"I don't believe so."

"Are you gonna *go*?"

"I -- was hoping to discuss the matter with Jason when he came in. And perhaps with Dick, as well."

"And when you say 'discuss,' you really mean -- uh. Yeah. Wow. Right into the deep end?"

"A part of me..." Bruce shakes his head and smiles. "There is no part of me which is not convinced that I will miss this family badly once I leave."

"Heh, they're pretty unique. And good, too. They love each other. And they aren't letting *you* mess them up, which says a lot about how *well* they love each other."

"I would never --"

"I know that. And they know that, too, which may or may *not* be a part of how they're managing to work around you."

And Bruce has to nod and squeeze Harvey's hands for the warmth. It would've been all too easy for his advent to bring strife and pain, especially because they've all had so much tragedy --

He thinks.

In his mind, Tim is insinuating himself against Bruce's body --

Dick is kissing him --

And Jason is laughing at him, harsh and male and lovely. He'd worked with Stephanie tonight, and they'd broken off early. Jason had taken her home, and the fact that he's not back here, yet, suggests --

No, he won't make assumptions --

But he can't seem to stop himself from imagining Jason's large, *roughly* adolescent hands closing around Stephanie's impressive biceps, his teeth on her soft, plush lip --

Harvey knocks on Bruce's armored jock. "Hellooo the house...."

"Harv."

"Heh. Don't let anything or *anyone* keep you from having this family as much as they want you to. Not even you."

That -- "I wasn't -- I didn't intend to make you argue for -- for my perversions --"

"And you didn't, and I'm not. You can give them *platonic* hugs, too."

No, he can't --

What -- no. Not any of them? At any *time*?

"Oh, look at you trying to make yourself believe that that wasn't a huge lie. *Right*."

"Harv --"

"It's okay. Well -- I can't call it okay. I just also can't -- fuck. Leave it. Even though I started it. Please."

Bruce strokes Harvey's knuckles somewhat restlessly --

And Harvey smiles wryly down at their hands. "It's good that Dick was the first to get more than just a kiss. It -- for me, I mean," he says, and looks up again.

"I understand."

"I know you do, big guy --"

And Harvey stops to turn at the sound of a motorcycle engine pulling into the Cave and filling the space echoingly with its growl --

The bats screech as one --

And Jason doesn't pull off his helmet until the bike is at a complete stop in its parking space. Somehow, that's surprising. He's not sure why, though --

"Yeah, that's my cue to sleep. You have *discussions* to have."

"Harv. If I... if we could --"

"The two of us, big guy? *Just* the two of us and everything between us -- including the fact that a lot of me is still killing Lex over and over and over again?"

Bruce winces.

"That's not the only reason I'm saying no, but it's the only good one."

"Harv?"

"There's a *leetle* part of me which wants you to hurt a little for falling in love with someone other than me."

"Harv, no --"

Harvey takes his hands back -- and immediately covers Bruce's mouth. "Let me be a jackass tonight, big guy. I promise I'll miss you so much I'll be cured by the morning."

Bruce frowns --

And Harvey laughs at him, stepping back -- toward the stairs.

"Harv, I'm not --"

Harvey holds up a hand. "The morning, big guy. And maybe it'll be a nice, sunny day again."

"I don't want to let you go."

"I know. And that feels -- well, you'll learn exactly how that feels once the big brains figure all this out. Good night."

Bruce feels himself curling his hands into *fists* -- he stops. "Good night, Harv."

Harvey closes his eyes for a long moment, smiles *distantly* -- and then he turns and moves for the stairs at a jog. Bruce watches him go until the clock closes behind him -- and then he turns to look at Jason --

Who is sitting on the table close to J'onn, smiling and easy within himself. His feathered cape is spread over the whole of the table --

And Bruce finds that he wants to bury his nose against Jason's throat.

He goes to write the night's report, instead. There's no reason not to, and he wouldn't want Dick to be upset with Tim --

And it's an excellent excuse to wait.

*

"So you waited up for me, Green Machine?"

"Yes," J'onn says, and kind of *flares* those glowing eyes at him -- hunh.

"What does that mean? Your eyes, I mean?"

"It is a greeting, and a wish to look within you."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? How many people actually know that?"

J'onn shows his freakishly-even white teeth -- "Very few."

"Heh. Got it," Jason says, spreading his hands and leaning in a little. "Take a look."

"Thank you," J'onn says, and stretches his arm out until it's long enough for him to palm Jason's head. "Would you like to experience what I do?"

"Sure --" And then Jason's grunting, because he can feel himself getting *stuck* a little --

And he's also feeling the sticking. He's entering a friend, being given a gift that no Martian could ask of another --

"Wait, what?"

We were closed to each other. While we could communicate with other species mentally, we could not do so with each other with any degree of clarity. And it was forbidden to try.

Well -- fuck. But Ma'ena --

Was not above contempt for laws she found worthless.

God, she was awesome.

Yes. You smell of Skylark.

Heh, well... and Jason pushes himself back into that funky little bedroom, the one that does and *doesn't* express who Steph is, because she's only a typical teenaged girl when she *wants* to be --

But a part of him is just -- fucking marveling at the *vista* of Steph's bedroom --

A space I have not known. A home I have not known.

... oh. Okay, then. Jason focuses his memory on Steph's Wall of Hotness --

I believe Kyle would find her... intimidating.

Yeah, so do I. Jason tries a little pan-and-scan action --

You are not here.

Tim's the *only* one who's ever gotten good pictures of me. This cape had to be good for something --

And then his vision is tugged -- not yanked -- over to the door, where his cape is hanging neatly -- heh.

Yeah, I do care about it. Dick *gave* it to me. Hell, Dick made the first one by hand --

And then Steph's bedroom is gone and he's looking -- at the Watchtower. Diana is crushing steel balls the way she does whenever some man *somewhere* has pissed her off, Dinah is smiling at the gorgeous fucking *ruin* of her knuckles --

And Dick is asking everyone where the hell to find thousands of starling feathers.

That's -- wow. Awesome.

J'onn hums, inside and out, and brings them back to Steph's bedroom, only now the lighting is a little... off? Strange?

The light is from the knefa torches most commonly used to help consecrate a... union.

Uh. Like a marriage?

No, those torches are too common for that.

Okay. You know, it wasn't -- I mean, we didn't really --

The knefa torches are appropriate for every encounter you would define as 'making love.'

Seriously?

Ma'ena was exceedingly violent with me whenever I would take the time to light them.

So you're saying you did it every time.

Yes.

Jason snickers in his head and hears himself sigh through a smile --

Thank you.

For keeping the laugh in?

Wait.

He does -- and suddenly it feels like he's in a Jacuzzi or something, bubbling and warm and kind of rolled along -- somewhere. What?

That is the sensation of your laughter.

Wow, okay. I'll hold it in more often, then.

Please, do not develop that habit for me. It would disappoint your family.

And *that* --

Jason throws up the image of a pre-Tink Tim, geeky and small and unsure -- and lit up all *over* because he'd just made Jason laugh. So I'm saying that I hear you.

Yes. He made love to Bruce tonight.

Heh. I *thought* something was a little screwy about the way they just *sat* there in the car. Bruce didn't stand a *chance*.

No, he did not. Though I believe that Tim was... troubled when they returned tonight.

Oh -- Jesus, I'll kill him --

Wait, please.

And J'onn shows him fucking *Harvey* being concerned about it --

And Bruce using the n-word. Shit. You can't just go *needing* at Tim!

He is... sensitive?

*Nobody* needed him in his parents' house. It's fucking *crack* for him now. He's going to bend over *backwards* to give Bruce what he thinks Bruce needs, and Bruce is still talking about *leaving*. No, I'm back to needing to kill him.

It may be more... expedient to convince him to stay.

What, you like him or something?

Our friendship was one of distance and subtleties, but it was warm. His control over his own mind was nearly Martian-like at times, and the gifts he gave were always deeply and thoroughly considered beforehand. I have missed him.

This guy's not the same.

No. He is younger and somewhat... untutored. I was a surprise to him. I was never a surprise to the Bruce from this universe after the very first moment when he saw me in captivity.

Jason blinks a little -- I'd forgotten the Army jammed you up. How long did they have you, anyway?

Eight months.

Ever wanna go after some soldier-meat?

J'onn's smile doesn't have *white* teeth, at all. Not inside.

Got it. Look, I know I'm changing the subject --

You are jealous of Bruce.

What -- I -- yes. He can't -- he can't just *need*. Tim's *mine*. And that actually makes him happy, and it's not -- fuck. It's not like I don't want other people to make him happy --

Bruce is dangerous.

*Yes*. What happens if Tim decides Bruce needs him bad enough that he jumps through the portal or whatever *with* him?

Do you truly believe that he would leave you?

I -- you tell me.

And J'onn takes him at his word, phasing himself *into* Jason --

And this time it feels like -- turmoil, not chaos. The boy is ordered in his worries --

Since *when*?

And J'onn flips him an image of Dick beaming at him from the head of the dining room table just like Jason had done a cooler trick than finishing his -- second -- breakfast and belching loud enough to make the windows fucking rattle. Which --

Yeah, okay. Things *had* settled down fast as hell, because Dick always let Jason know how much *he* was needed --

Not *just* him, but *exactly* him --

No.

No?

You do not believe Tim would leave you.

Oh. Well. Good.

You believe he would *want* to leave you.

Aw, damn it, *seriously*? Now I'm gonna be all fucked-up around him and he'll *know* and fucking *worry* --

Here.

And now he's being *drowned* in every one of Tim's and Tink's and Cardinal's smiles for him, *buried* in those little touches that are all about letting Jason know that *Tim* wants to be touched by him --

Wait, but --

No.

And he's getting rolled *over* by that look in Tim's eyes. The I-love-you without the words, the *always*, the *forever* --

And he doesn't have to fight it, at all. He doesn't --

He can just live in those looks, because Tim is his and -- yeah.

Okay. I'm actually good.

Yes.

But -- *why* did that work? Reminding depressed people of good shit *never* works.

It does when there is a Martian around to... force the issue.

Jason snorts, inside and out --

It's apparently like being pleasantly *shaken* --

Yes. I care for you a great deal, Jason.

Jason smiles and sinks into *that* a little --

Maybe more than a little --

I wish for you to know me better already. I do not wish to flood you with myself at this time, however.

No? I'm good for it --

You need rest, and I need you to have more than that. May I come to you from time to time even when I am finished with Harvey?

Hey, sure. You could probably get me used to you enough that I could train while we... uh... communed?

Yes.

Do... do you have a cloaca?

Not all of the time.

Jason bites his lip -- that's fair.

Jason... were you to convince Bruce to stay --

I'd have to deal with him being *right* there, which -- I don't know. He's good. He's hot. He makes my brothers happy. I want him.

You do not want to want him.

It was all well and good earlier when I was drunk on my own hormones, but now I'm clearheaded enough to remember that this is the guy who offered to castrate himself. He's not *well*. And his brand of crazy feels more dangerous than other kinds.

He is thinking about you.

Shit, *really*?

He is... berating himself both for obsessing about the memory of your scent and for not remembering it more clearly.

Jesus fucking --

You enjoy his scent.

He's. He's a good-smelling guy -- wait, do *you* want him?

I have desired his control more than I have desired his body... but yes. I was able to observe him with Harvey earlier. His passions are violent and difficult for him to encompass, but never chaotic. He has depths of both gentleness and humor. He is, I have realized, much like you.

Uh.

J'onn's laugh is like getting rocked and hugged and *stroked* --

I like that --

I am glad.

I don't *go* for people all that much like me, J'onn.

J'onn hums -- and offers an image of Kuh-Superboy in flight --

Another of him using his so-called 'tactile telekinesis' to break Metallo into about a million different little pieces --

Another -- fuzzier -- image of him in some kind of tube, unconscious or asleep and naked --

Wait, *what*?

He called out for release several times, but never powerfully enough -- or for long enough -- for me to find where this facility was located.

He was... trapped?

Imprisoned. Like me.

Shit, fuck -- you've talked to him about it?

I have made the attempt. He rebuffed me with juvenile humor.

Now *that's* the Kuh-Superboy he sorta-kinda knows and --

Fuck.

It's not fair to make me feel fucking *sympathetic* for the guy, J'onn.

On the contrary, you have already begun to wish to know him better, so that you can help Tim with his relationship with him.

... oh.

Yes.

Does he love Tim?

You know the answer to that question.

Jason wants to *scowl* for that -- which means that he already is where *J'onn* can see.

I assure you, it is a very attractive subset of emotions within you. However, I may be biased.

Hey, if you light any torches when I'm waiting to get tentacle-fucked, I *promise* to get fucking violent.

And there's Ma'ena in his head. At least, he hopes it is, because the huge, green, horned dragon-beast-*thing* is about to either kill him or make filthy love to his rapidly-breaking body.

The latter. Is she not beautiful?

Uh.

Another one of those rocking laughs. She tended to save that for special occasions.

Oh. Well. Yeah, you wouldn't wanna pull that out too --

KWEEEEEEEEEGH!!!!

Gah --

That is the sound she would make if I took too long to get home when she wanted me. The sound would carry for miles.

How did you not get in serious *trouble*?

By then, my reputation as a Manhunter and hers as -- there is no better word than 'Justice' -- were made. We were... local celebrities, and allowed our quirks.

Okay, then. Kweegh, hunh?

You should endeavor to sound more rageful.

KWEEEEEEEGH!

Hm.

No?

I do not believe you feel entitled enough to my presence, Jason.

Jason grins outside and snickers inside --

Gets rolled along on all those little bubbles --

I can barely act entitled with *Tim*, and he rewards me for it. Hint, hint --

Whoa --

Okay, so I can't actually see anything. And -- you're covering me. All over?

Yes.

Wait, you're under my *clothes* --

I phased through them.

That means. Uh.

Yes.

Jason grins and lounges as best he can with a couple hundred pounds of half-phased Martian *coating* him, laying back on -- coated -- elbows, and spreading his -- coated -- legs.

That was not necessary, Jason.

Nah, but it feels --

Better --

Oh, *fuck*, J'onn, you -- you're jerking me with your -- hunh.

Yes?

What part of your body *is* that corresponding to?

My cloaca.

Oh.

Kidding. I am, at present, concentrating my nerve endings around your penis. Everything you feel, every sense you imagine, is a fraction of what I feel.

Oh -- fuck. I'm *fucking* you?

And the light behind Jason's eyes goes smoky, flickery --

Fucking *torches* --

And J'onn's laugh is fucking *working* him, spreading him out and holding him and *loving* him, and all the ways he's just like Ma'ena and all the ways he's *wanted* someone like Ma'ena his whole fucking life --

And there's Steph right there, moving and fucking *doing*. Larger than life when she wants to be and twice as fucking *mean*.

J'onn *ripples* over his cock --

And Jason can't do anything but buck as much as J'onn is *letting* him, twist in that shroud of --

Another ripple and he can feel Steph *gripping* him with her pussy, smell that milkiness mixed with the *tang* of her pussy --

A gripping *stroke* and Ma'ena is winding her tail all around him, Ma'ena is crushing the *life* out of him -- but only because what he's doing feels so good, so right --

Ma'ena broke down the walls --

Sometimes *literally* --

But he was never alone, he can't ever be *alone* --

Jason.

Fuck fuck *fuck* --

Yes.

And J'onn forces Jason's mouth open and *pours* himself halfway down Jason's *throat* --

Jason feels his eyes go wide, but he can't see --

Can't think can't breathe --

Can't do anything but groan once J'onn starts *doing* him. There's no real *rhythm* for his cock, but there's one for his throat --

Jason wants to fucking *writhe*, but he can't, J'onn won't let go --

He has to fucking hold *on* to something --

And then there are smooth, rope-like things in his hands, wrapped around his *knuckles* --

Tentacles.

Oh, fuck, yes. Jason starts jerking *those* off --

And J'onn makes a sound that makes Jason's fucking *sternum* vibrate, makes the insides of Jason's ears thrum and want to *twitch* --

Fuck, so *good*, so he squeezes those tentacles hard, works them maybe like Ma'ena would've if J'onn made her wait for longer than ten minutes --

Fucking *KWEEGH* --

And then there's a hot, sleek *vise* around his cock, jerking it fast and -- not rough. Not --

*Sleek*, yeah, and he can go with that, he can --

Oh, God, those tentacles are growing up his arms *and* down his legs --

Spreading him wide --

J'onn's still moaning or vibrating or whatever the fuck --

*Jason*.

Yeah -- *yeah* --

JasonJasonJasonJasonJason --

*Do* it --

And then Jason realizes that that grunt was out loud --

That J'onn has freed his *head* for some reason, slipped out of his throat --

I miss... exhibitionism.

*Fuck* --

And then there's something slim and *wet* slipping up his ass where he needs it, right where he *needs* it --

Yes.

"*J'onn* --!"

And J'onn's hum rattles the table, the teeth in Jason's fucking *head* --

His eyes flare like fucking *lasers* --

And J'onn forms up around him, under him, *near* him --

Bruce can see *everything* --

I have always wanted to share my pleasure with him. Thank you.

Yeah. You. Uh --

Lasers, Jason...? J'onn *lifts* him and smiles with white teeth -- "Clark is an excellent lover."

Oh -- Jesus, fucking *images* --

All of them flickering through his *head* --

Clark on his knees --

J'onn in a dozen different forms -- *more* --

Clark *hugging* J'onn and all of his *spikes* --

Clark moaning and crying out -- in Martian --

Jason blushes and promises to learn, to know, to fucking *use*, but please --

Please please --

And then the tentacle up his ass starts *rubbing* his prostate --

The tentacle goes back down his *throat* -- and that's all he has. He's spasming, jerking in J'onn's grip and fucking *yelling* around that tentacle --

Trying to --

He's burning *up* and this is gonna kill him, or at least *kink* him --

One hopes.

Okay. Apparently, laughing *while* he's shooting off -- and getting tentacle-fucked -- makes his eyes cross and his ass clench and also he's yelling more.

*Fuck* --

"Jason."

Uh. Wait. "Uh?"

"May I kiss you as humans do?"

Jason opens his eyes and raises his eyebrows. He's actually in *close* to the same position he was in when J'onn swallowed him, so he just settles on his elbows again. "Is that gonna do anything for you?"

"You have many memories of kisses which you hold almost crystalline in your mind. I would like to find permanence within you."

Jason grins and sits up, wrapping his arms around that big, green, mostly-human-looking neck --

Except that suddenly he's looking at John *Jones*, and --

"Damn. I never realized how much that guy looks like you. Uh. Okay, that didn't make any sense --"

"Yes, it did," J'onn says, and *smiles* like he's human, showing off teeth that actually aren't as white as the Gay Green Wrestler's -- and Jason remembers that J'onn was actually moving through the world back when everyone expected private detectives to smoke, or at least look like they did.

"It's just -- uh. Help?"

"You think I'm being most honest when I wear the form I wore most often on Mars, and you have always preferred honesty."

"Yeah, *that*. I just don't wanna give you the idea that I need you to look human or something. Or even *kinda* human -- yagh you're flexing your tentacle. In me. Uh. Okay, I get the point," Jason says, and licks his way across that thin-lipped mouth --

Nuzzles at the deep smile-lines to either *side* of that mouth --

And gives up and grips the sides of that so-carefully narrow-head before leaning in to make it a real kiss. John Jones' head *isn't* as narrow as J'onn-the-insect-guy's head, but there's that jut to the chin, the blond hair that protrudes over the forehead --

The long, lanky body pressed right up against his own --

Jason makes the kiss one of his better ones, wet and messy and as affectionate as he can manage, because, yeah, J'onn *is* a friend, and maybe John Jones can be, too, and --

Oh, Jesus, he's making himself taste like something different, something that's maybe *Different* --

And suddenly Jason's mind is filled with the image of J'onn kissing Ma'ena, licking Ma'ena, *biting* Ma'ena --

Oh -- I'm tasting *her*?

Not quite... but close.

Jason hums and tries to make the kiss even deeper, and, after a little while, J'onn starts petting and stroking Jason's neck, the back of his head, his shoulders --

He pulls out slowly and gently --

And then he leans back in and nuzzles Jason's mouth very slowly and very, very seriously. "Thank you."

"Thank *you*," Jason says, and -- wait. "Where were your spikes?"

"I turned them on myself so as not to injure you."

"Uh. And that didn't injure *you* because... you moved all your organs around?"

"Yes," J'onn says, and turns to stare at --

Bruce. Oh, damn. Oh -- God. Right in front of the guy, and somehow that's a lot more meaningful now that his cock has gone back to nap a little. Not sleep. His cock hasn't been asleep in *years* --

And Bruce is blushing even as he types up something on the computer. He -- What's he broadcasting?

'White noise,' at the moment, and J'onn turns to face him. Before then, he imagined his hand on your face.

Jason shivers. Yeah, that. Heh. Just that, apparently. Damn.

J'onn strokes Jason's cheek with his spindly human fingers, but Jason already knew he was blushing.

"I'll talk to him," Jason says, making a point of doing it *aloud* --

"I will continue to keep the rest of the League from swarming your home like... bees on the first flowers of spring."

Jason snorts. "Seriously? Wait, no, of course this would be --" Jason sighs. "Maybe we *should* let them visit. They all deserve a chance to say goodbye the right way."

J'onn narrows his eyes in a smile that feels more real once the eyes themselves turn black and orange again.

"Yeah, Green Machine?"

"Were you raised to be kind?"

"Kind? Uh. Well, I guess? I mean, my mom never wanted me to be an asshole. My *father* did, but he doesn't count. For *anything*," Jason says, and, yeah, he's *aware* he sounds a little fucking vehement, but --

J'onn strokes Jason's forehead --

And then *into* his forehead --

Jason grunts and relaxes. "Did you just -- uh. *What* did you do?"

"Convinced you to focus on those parts of your mind which felt most calm and generally pleased. I did not take your emotions."

No, only Raven does that, really, and -- yeah. He got upset because thinking about Bruce in the front of his mind got him thinking about Harvey in the *back* of his mind -- yeah.

"Too much death, J'onn. You know all about that."

"Yes."

"I think..." Jason frowns a little and lays back on the table again. The amazing thing is that he's still fully-dressed. That has to stop *soon*, but it's fucking convenient as *hell* to have a Martianfriend who can fuck him brainless *and* keep him neat. And he's distracting himself, because --

Because.

"I'm mad at him, J'onn."

"Yes. Though it is not because you are jealous. I confess that I am curious."

Jason smiles ruefully. "Dick found me because he was purposefully going over routes that Bruce used to take through the city. Spending time in places Bruce spent time, you know?"

And J'onn gives him the image of Dick showing off video footage of Jason stealing the tires off the Robinmobile on the Watchtower.

"Oh, Jesus. *Seriously*?"

J'onn nods and kind of glows at him again.

Jason sighs and shakes his head. "Okay. Fine. Part of me spent the last part of my patrol dealing -- *badly* -- with the fact that *Bruce* could've been the one to pick me up. Like, breaking-a-few-too-many-teeth badly."

"You do not believe that you would have had a successful partnership with him."

"He's too -- *fuck*," and Jason sits up to look *at* Bruce, who's standing right the fuck there with an earnest look on his face, a *hopeful* look --

You could've *warned* me, J'onn.

He could hear you from the computers, as well.

Oh. "Uh. Bruce --"

"Please. Finish what you were saying."

Jason winces. "I really don't have to. I mean -- I was gonna talk to you anyway if you stayed up."

"Am I... I'm interrupting your time with J'onn. I'm afraid I became far too... interested when you spoke my name."

Jason winces a little *harder* -- "That's --"

"I wasn't -- I don't mean to offer approbation."

"No, I know, Bruce, just -- fuck. You're too crazy, okay? You've got issues on *top* of your issues, and, unlike *most* of this community, you apparently *don't* work yours out by punching people."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Very true. But I believe I have found... other ways."

"With my *brothers*, yeah --"

"Does it bother you -- no, that was a foolish question," Bruce says, and his smile becomes slightly *harder* on his face. But it's not aimed at Jason. "Does it bother you so terribly that we won't be able to come to know each other."

Jason narrows his eyes.

Bruce flares his nostrils -- and steps back. Which --

Jason snorts and stands, moving into Bruce's space and jabbing at his chest a little. "That. Is that what you did to Tim?"

Bruce blinks for that --

And Jason sighs. "That backing-up thing. That -- backing-*away*-to-be-*polite* thing."

"I... I tried to give him what he wanted of me. To *be* what he wanted."

"Okay. That was a yes, no, *and* a maybe -- and I'll have to talk to Tim about it anyway. You -- God, Bruce, I could *see* me being your partner, and how you'd be careful and good and shit, and be lying your *ass* off because you *wanted* my ass -- and wouldn't admit it."

Bruce frowns. "If... if I'd already been in a relationship with Dick --"

"You *wouldn't* have gone for me? Is that *seriously* what you're saying?"

Bruce shakes his head. "I'd like to believe that I would remain faithful... but of course neither of us has reason to believe --" He cuts himself off and turns to J'onn --

And when Jason looks, J'onn is basically transparent and floating up. "J'onn --"

I will return tomorrow, and it's pretty clear that he's speaking to both of them. But then he *focuses* on Jason -- May the time before we meet again be filled with pleasure and peace for you.

Uh. Back at you, and Jason nods mainly for Bruce's benefit and watches J'onn... disappear.

Jason frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. It's not that he can't understand why J'onn would want him to talk to Bruce, and even why he'd want Jason to talk to Bruce in *private* -- he *wants* Jason to work on him, and Jason can't actually blame him for that.

It's just that he was hoping for a little back-up. Mainly because --

"I'll leave you now."

Mainly because he trusts himself with this about half as far as he trusts Bruce. Fuck. "I -- like you," Jason says, and scowls at Bruce.

Bruce blinks and pauses about three paces away. "You do?"

"You made Dick happy right up until you tried to act like an actual hero. You made Tim care about you enough that he had to *run*. You -- I like you. And I fucking hate that."

"I'm... sorry?"

Jason snorts and uncrosses his arms, stripping off the gauntlets and pushing his hands back through his hair.

Bruce follows the movement avidly, narrowing his eyes a little --

"J'onn says you've been thinking about me."

Bruce *doesn't* blush this time -- "Yes."

Jason nods. "I've been thinking about you, too."

"You're beautiful."

"I know," Jason says, and smirks a little. "I see it every time I look in Tim's eyes. When he's feeling it, I mean."

"He feels... much."

Jason -- doesn't narrow his eyes again. "Did you hurt him?"

"I -- touched him while wearing my gauntlets. He seemed --"

"He loved it," Jason says, and waves a hand. "He came for you, yeah?"

Bruce swallows -- "Yes."

"And he... did he suck you?"

"Yes."

"You liked that."

Bruce closes his eyes, and *now* his face is getting a little pink. Flush, not blush, and the only question is how hard he can actually *get* behind his jock.

The one Dick had had made for *him* has enough room for a semi, but Bruce has got a lot more to deal with -- and he's staring at Bruce's crotch. Great. Jason looks up and raises his eyebrows mostly reflexively, because Bruce is staring at him hard. "Bruce --"

"He gave me great pleasure. I longed to touch him more thoroughly, but he only removed his cape. I long for him now."

"Why didn't you go get him?"

"There were -- the report --"

"Bruce."

"He told me he would be in your bed. I won't -- I couldn't assume."

That --

Apparently, a part of him thought Tim *wouldn't* be in his bed tonight. Jesus. He's really *that* jealous? *Really*? Jason frowns at himself --

"I. We can speak about anything you wish --"

"Don't take him with you."

Bruce blinks. "I wouldn't --"

"Dick wouldn't go, *I* wouldn't go, *Clark* wouldn't go -- but Tim has always needed to be needed. *Badly*."

Bruce shakes his head slowly. "I -- I couldn't take him from you --"

"You don't actually believe that," Jason says, and closes the space between them again --

"Jason --"

"Don't take him with you. He'll miss you when you go, but between me and Dick and Steph, we can *make* him feel better again. You won't be enough for him."

"Wouldn't that mean that you alone weren't enough for him, either?"

Jason rears back a little and takes a breath. "You've actually thought about it already. I wasn't just -- stabbing around in the fucking *dark* --"

"I'm sorry --"

"Don't be fucking *sorry* --"

"I won't. If he tries to come with me, I will stop him."

Jason narrows his eyes. "That's a promise."

Bruce firms up his jaw, stands straight -- he nods.

Jason turns away and just -- he can feel himself blushing *hard* --

"Jason...?"

"We were supposed to -- not get fucked-up over you. That was the *deal*."

"Should -- I don't want to absent myself from you. From this home all of you have made --"

"It's *your* home --"

"No. I could never have helped create a family like yours. The Bruce from this universe must have been --"

"Just like *you*. When he was your age, anyway," Jason says, shaking his head. "*We* might not have known you, but do you really think Clark would've gone for you so fast if you didn't feel right? *Dick*? He didn't just live with you, he lived *in* you --"

"That -- it frightens me badly."

Jason closes his eyes for a moment -- and when he opens them, Bruce's hand is hovering near his jaw. Jason raises his eyebrows --

Bruce drops his hand. "I'm not -- an institution. Nor am I an icon of any kind. I am -- barely -- a man, and I cannot imagine ever having the *confidence* to allow a boy like Dick must have been to believe otherwise --"

"You think you could've *stopped* him?"

Bruce blinks and frowns. "I..."

"Yeah, think about that. Dick wasn't just some -- empty fucking *vessel* for you to fill up with the Mission and your cock. He was *himself*, and that means he was too fucking hardcore -- even at *thirteen* -- *not* to make his own decisions. It's just -- I've lived with the guy for five damned *years*, B. I know him down to the bone."

"You. You didn't know he desired you --"

"Heh. No, I didn't. But that just proves that he'll never be half as predictable -- half as *easy* -- as anyone else. Face it -- he fucking *owned* you. Now I just need to figure out how Tim managed to do it to you, too. He's not *like* Dick."

"He is..." Bruce shakes his head. "He offered me his secrets. Some of them."

Jason squeezes his eyes shut *again* -- no. "He told you about the gender thing."

Bruce nods and searches him, looking for --

Jason knows what he's looking for. "He's hinted around it. And let me and Dick just *see* him loving being a woman for the Mission. And -- he let me change the subject."

"You... it makes you uncomfortable?"

"I don't want him cutting on himself, even if it does turn out to be --" Jason blows out a breath. "I'm not the right person to ask about it. It's his life --"

"You're his love. He spoke of you much --"

"I'm the one who *saved* him from his awful fucking *family* --"

"And so much more," Bruce says, and licks his lips. "He told me that he was speaking to me in part because he knew I would be leaving. Your wishes are important to him --"

"*Too* important. Just --" Fucking *Superboy* --

Bruce --

Dick? Jesus. Just --

He never gets jealous of *Clark*, but Clark is Clark, and would never try to *steal* one of them for more than a few hours or days at a time. He's got a wife and a *life*.

Superboy doesn't. *Bruce* doesn't. Dick -- has them, but not as much as he wants to --

And Jason thinks he could use J'onn to sort him out again, calm him down -- and thinking that is enough to do it, because Jason can *feel* the path in his mind J'onn built between 'pissy and jealous' and 'actually pretty mellow.' Hunh --

"Jason... I'm not sure Tim could ever think of your desires as inappropriate or grasping --"

Jason waves a hand. "I know. I know, actually. He -- it's another pretty scary thing."

Bruce nods and searches him a little. "You fear your capacity to offer hurt?"

Is that it? That --

He *wouldn't* hurt Tim. Not on purpose, anyway, and he's gotten pretty fucking good at avoiding it. It's just that he'd gotten good at it when everything was pretty solid and calm and clear. No real surprises other than the occasional dealer needing a harder beating than usual to stay down, or the kinds of people (and things) that occasionally stepped out of a Gotham fog.

It was the three of them -- plus Owl over there and Steph over *there*, and while none of it was routine, it was a little predictable, and --

It's not like he'd change much of anything about the past few days. Dick opening up, Steph joining them, J'onn treating him to some seriously *active* reminiscing about life on Mars, *Bruce fucking Wayne* right there to make everybody excited and happier, and, oh yeah, *Harvey*.

It --

Jesus. Jason snorts.

"Yes?"

"I'm pouting 'cause things are changing too fast for me, is all," Jason says, laughing quietly and pushing his hands back through his hair again. "*That's* why so much of me is ready for you to get your ass gone."

"So your life can return to normal. That's understandable, and -- I'm willing to keep myself apart --"

"Quiet. You -- it's all based on false fucking principles, B," Jason says, and strokes that really dark patch of stubble on Bruce's jaw.

"It -- tell me."

"Nothing will be the same after you go. Not one goddamned fucking thing."

Bruce winces and starts to turn away --

And Jason turns him right back again. "Don't do that. You *want* to look at me, yeah?"

"All -- very often. I didn't mean -- I would never have wished to make your lives *difficult* --"

"We need you."

"No --"

"*Yes*. You -- you can't just come in here and give us a taste and then *go*. You can't --" Jason growls and reaches to shove a hand in Bruce's hair. It's just barely long enough for that to *work* --

The last pictures of Bruce had him with *short* hair --

But this Bruce is still young. Still a little --

A little soft, maybe.

Jason leans in and bites at that stubbled jaw, digging in with his teeth until -- no, he won't leave a mark, yet. He -- he doesn't know why, but he can't.

Yet.

And Bruce sighs and shakes for it, or maybe just for the fact that Jason's doing it, that --

"You like me this close, B?"

"Yes. I -- yes."

"You..." Jason licks the line of Bruce's jaw, nibbles around to his mouth --

And Bruce is panting a little. Just -- a little.

"You hungry, B?"

"Yes."

"Whatcha gonna do about -- it. Heh." Jason strokes down to the hands on his hips, and the grip is just as impossible and *hard* as it should be.

Even through his tights. But --

"Let go."

"Jason --"

"Call me Jay."

Bruce gasps and kisses Jason's cheek, his jaw, his cheek again --

"C'mon, say it --"

"*Jay*," and Bruce's voice is low, rough and *hard* --

"Take your jock off."

Bruce pants against Jason's temple, breathes deep, pants *more* --

"You're sniffing me?"

"Yes."

Jason licks his lips and pushes Bruce's robe off his shoulders before leaning in to breathe against his armpit --

"Jay --"

"I can -- fuck, you wear a lot more leather than I do, B."

Bruce grunts and cups the back of Jason's head, pulls him in --

"Don't crush me --"

"I'm sorry -- *Jay* --"

That for a bite to his chest, so Jason bites his way to Bruce's throat, lingering on his shoulder, on all that *muscle* -- "Take your jock off," he says again, and strokes down to pinch Bruce's nipple through his t-shirt --

Bruce groans and steps back, releasing the jock and letting it *fall* -- no, he crouches to pick it up.

"So you *do* remember Alfred's training."

"Everything. I -- everything. Jay."

Jason nods and walks *quickly* to the hampers. There's a fourth and a fifth one for Steph and Bruce -- yeah. Bruce drops his jock in his hamper and reaches for Jason, only pausing when his fingers were *about* to touch Jason's belt in just the wrong way. "I shoulda let you find out the hard way."

"Probably," Bruce says, and his eyes are wide and fucking *blown*. His lips are damp from being licked, bitten --

There's a bite mark on his *throat* --

And it'll be all his until it fades. It --

"Watch me," Jason says, and strips slowly and carefully enough that Bruce will be able to do it for him next time --

He's already thinking of fucking *next* time --

And he doesn't stop stripping until he's down to his boxer-briefs. They're going to go upstairs, and the robes are too damned *short* and -- he can deal. He can definitely deal, because all Bruce is doing is *looking* at him, taking in Jason's body in one hungry *glare* after another --

Jason does a little spin -- and immediately shivers, because the feel of that look on his *back* is just --

Too much.

The kind of too much he bends right over for when it's Clark. When --

Fuck, fuck --

"Bruce," he says, without turning around --

"Yes," and Bruce is right there, right behind him, not *touching* --

"Touch me -- *nnh* --"

"Your hips. You... are you sensitive there?"

"Yeah. To great big men with great big hands," Jason says, twisting a little in Bruce's grip just to see -- "Oh, yeah, that -- heh. Not letting me get anywhere, B?"

"I want you. Very badly," and Bruce starts *stroking* Jason's hips, leans in and kisses the back of Jason's neck --

"Wanna fuck me?"

"Yes -- no. I want to make love to you --"

"You *know* what I mean --"

"Take you. I want to take you. To..." Bruce sighs and shudders, and yeah, he really *is* close enough for Jason to feel that. And feel it all over when Bruce starts licking the back of his neck -- no.

That's not really licking. He's *tonguing* Jason's neck, feeling him up with something slick and muscular -- "You like the way I taste, B?"

"Intoxicating. You -- please," and that last word is slurred because Bruce is tonguing him again --

No, nibbling his way over Jason's shoulder --

Then back to Jason's throat --

"*Bite*."

"Jay," Bruce says, and it's a statement, a speech, a fucking *order* to do exactly what he's doing: Moaning and shaking his way through a *vicious* bite over his jugular.

"*Bruce* --"

Bruce nods and it makes the flesh between his teeth *throb*, makes Jason need to grip himself through his shorts --

Bruce's hand is right there, not touching anything more exciting than *Jason's* hand -- but that could change.

*Will* change, because Bruce's grip on his other hip is still fucking *harsh*, because Bruce's teeth might make him bleed, because he needs it, fucking *needs* it --

Jason shoves his shorts down and makes Bruce clutch him --

Bruce grunts and stops biting, kisses Jason's throat and cheek and ear. "Tell me. Show me. Please."

"You. Just hold me. Maybe -- a *little* stroke --"

They gotta get *upstairs*, but Jason isn't actually moving or doing anything other than pushing into that big, *hard* fist --

Bruce is stroking so *gently* -- even though his breathing is rougher than Jason's is after a six mile run and a spar with *Dick*. He --

"You're getting off on this --"

"Beautiful. You -- I want to make you *happy*, Jay --"

Jason groans and tilts his head back onto Bruce's shoulder, tries to convince Bruce's other hand to wander on him a little --

"*Tell* me," Bruce says, and it's way more of a plea than an order, which means either that Tim didn't teach him right or that he's figured out that Jason wants something a little different --

Not *too* different, not --

Not so much he loses his damned *mind* --

But somehow he's reaching back to grope for Bruce's cock through his briefs --

"*Jay* --"

"So -- fucking *hard* --"

"You. You made love with J'onn --"

"*Right* there. You listened."

"I tried -- not to watch. J'onn muffled your sounds --"

"J'onn fucked my *throat* -- but you heard the end. All of it -- *nnh* -- so *tight* --"

And Bruce starts squeezing Jason's cock rhythmically, over and over --

"*Bruce* --"

"You must *tell* me. I need -- I need more of you --"

Jason twists free, turns, and drops to his knees --

"No --"

"'*No*?'"

Bruce frowns and strokes Jason's forehead, his cheeks -- "Let -- I want to taste *you* --"

"You'll get your chance --" Except that it's a fucking *shock* that he got that last word out, because Bruce is just *on* him, pinning him on his back, holding his shoulders down as he kneels straddling Jason's waist. "B --"

"Jay. I could never -- I would never be able to deny myself around you. I -- but if you *asked* --"

"What do you *want*?"

"*Everything*," Bruce says, lifting Jason by the grip he has on his shoulders before pushing him back down again, looking him over -- "Let me taste you --"

"Do it --"

And Bruce smiles so --

He looks so fucking happy, so --

"Your desire for me -- I've done nothing to earn it, but I *will* please you," and Bruce moves between Jason's legs and *tears* Jason's shorts away --

"*Fuck* --"

Bruce frowns at his torn fucking underwear -- "I didn't mean to do that. I -- your scent is a goad," and he brings the shorts to his face and inhales like Jason's a fine *wine* --

No, something better than that, more *satisfying* --

"Jay..."

"Yeah. Uh. I'm listening?"

And it shouldn't work on him to see Bruce's eyes glittering at him over his poor underwear --

But it does. Jason licks his lips and sits up on one elbow so he can grab himself with his other hand --

Bruce's frown gets *darker* --

"B..."

Bruce swallows and stares into his eyes. "He must have loved you instantly."

"Uh. Tim?"

"Yes. But also Dick," and Bruce sets Jason's shorts down gently -- he actually *pats* them -- before beginning to stroke Jason's thighs. "He must have seen... there is so much in your eyes, Jason."

"Yours aren't so empty, either --"

"You're in them. They could never be empty -- I want to ask you *why*."

"Why I'm doing this?"

Bruce nods and starts *massaging* Jason's thighs -- right where he's tensed up. Jesus.

He can't help but moan a little for it, and Bruce's eyes get that much *hotter*. "You -- I already said --"

"You don't only want me for your brothers, Jay. I am confident enough..." Bruce's smile is pained. "Tim's desires... have you found that he could subsume them for the sake of the family?"

"Yeah. I -- yeah. I try to beat that outta him, a little."

Bruce nods and moves back to massage Jason's calves -- where he's *also* tense --

"Bruce --"

"You -- he's involved with his team?"

Jason licks his lips and squeezes himself, not sure whether he wants his cock to shut up or get *louder* -- "Two. Two of them."

Bruce nods. "So Dick mentioned. Are you --"

"Yeah. I am. I'm working on that, because -- because he needs me to. Even though he hasn't said so yet."

Bruce's lips part a little and he searches Jason, stroking his way back up Jason's legs --

*Pausing* at his groin --

"*Bruce* --"

"I. I've never been so -- how can you be *sure* of what he needs?"

Jason suspects he's looking at Bruce like he's crazy, but one, he is, and two, he *is*. "You -- I promise I'll tell you if you come down here and kiss --"

The kiss doesn't happen. What *happens* is Jason getting pinned like it's nothing and Bruce *breathing his breath* and staring at him. "Please. Tell me."

"Uh. I *did* --"

"Not. Not *where*. Not *how*. I -- please, Jason --"

"*Jay* -- "

"Jay. You... Tim guided me, as did Dick. I am... I am not so experienced."

No, he isn't. But he's huge, and he's hard, and he's *on* Jason, and that --

Jason nods and sighs out a breath. "We can do this, yeah."

Bruce looks so *hopeful* --

"Fuck. Here it is -- I like it a little gentler than Tim does, except when I'm getting fucked. Even then -- even then, I don't wanna bleed for days or anything --"

Bruce nods *solemnly* --

"I. Uh." Jason licks his lips --

Bruce follows the motion fucking *avidly* --

"Oh, Jesus, are you sure I can't blow you?"

Bruce pants, frowns. "If -- if you wish --"

"Okay, I get it, *you* don't want it -- don't want me to shut up?"

"Please. I want your voice. Your. You cried out for J'onn."

Jason raises his eyebrows and gives himself a slow stroke, nice and easy, nice and --

Yeah, Bruce's hand is creeping towards Jason's cock. Whether or not *he* knows it --

He's so focused on Jason's *eyes* -- "He made me feel good, B," Jason says, and lets his voice be rough and fucking *obvious* --

Bruce narrows his eyes. "Don't --"

"*Don't*?"

"Don't -- seduce me. Only -- I desire you greatly. I'll do anything you wish --"

"Make me *feel* you," and, okay, maybe that was too vague --

But, then again, maybe it wasn't -- because Bruce is kissing him all over his face --

Bruce is driving him down to the *mats* with a kiss on the mouth --

Bruce is *moving* on him, squeezing Jason's wrists and making them feel a lot fucking smaller than they are --

Jason turns out of the kiss and blows out a breath --

"Jay --"

"*Naked* --"

Bruce groans -- but he moves at once, stripping himself from between Jason's legs and looking --

Big.

Really, *really* big. The kind of big that you can't ever picture *small*, and Jason doesn't actually know what he means by that -- except for how he does. No little kid Bruce could seem real after this -- no matter how much that little kid might've needed someone like Jason himself.

It's easy as hell to roll up onto his knees and take that cock in hand --

Feel Bruce's hands *clamp* onto his shoulders --

Jason tosses back his too-long hair and starts to jerk him a little. The jock had let him work up a semi, a few minutes without it got him bigger, and this -- "I'm gonna make you take what you want, B. You know it?"

"Jay..." He shakes his head, clenches his fists --

"Don't fight me on this. You *need* it --"

"I need --"

"And I do, too, B."

Bruce focuses on him *hard* --

And Jason smiles and puts a little tossing action in his stroke --

Bruce *grunts* --

"Dick gave me a taste. What it would be like to let a tougher -- *harder* -- guy just fucking take me over..."

"You -- Clark."

"Clark knows I like it gentle, *too*. Clark -- heh. He's generous. Friendly. *Good*."

Bruce swallows for him, searches -- no, he's staring at Jason's throat. Just -- staring.

"It's not that I don't think you're all of those things, B -- I know you are."

Bruce looks up, and now he looks a little stunned on top of horny -- "Then -- please..."

"You've got a darker side in you. You..." Jason shakes his head and squeezes Bruce hard. "Think I taste like you yet?"

"Don't -- please don't stop talking."

"Not 'please don't stop jerking me off?'"

Bruce smile is rueful and pained again. "No, I... I'd like to be known by you. Understood."

"Like Harvey does?"

"If --" Bruce shakes his head again. "No. You are not Harvey."

"Who am I?"

Bruce lifts a hand -- it's *shaking* -- to Jason's face. "A beautiful boy. A kind boy who lived an unkind life. A strong boy. A loving --" Bruce cuts himself off and shudders --

And *then* Jason realizes that he's fucking *stripping* Bruce's cock. He eases off a little -- "You -- God, Bruce. I want that other side of you. The one that doesn't know what it's doing, and just kind of fucking blunders and flails its way through -- only it's *you*, so it always looks graceful and --" Jason licks his lips again. "You know what I want --"

"Let go of me."

Ooh -- oh. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

Jason raises both hands and his eyebrows --

Bruce cups Jason's face with both of *his* hands and kisses him gently and softly and -- fucking *thrillingly*, because they both know he's holding back, and because he's fucking well learned *how* to kiss in the last couple of days. He's --

Batman? Not here, not right *now*, but Dick taught him that Batman was *always* a man, that the Bat only came first for criminals, that the man was brilliant, caring, open, honest -- perfect.

And this kiss wants him to know it better than he does, this kiss wants him to moan *just* like this, shudder and push closer, fucking *get* more --

Because the kiss is getting harder, hotter --

And when Bruce bites Jason's lip *just* this side of too hard, Jason can't do anything but grunt like a fucking animal and let himself look like --

Someone who needed to be *flattened*, apparently, because Bruce drops him just as easily as Dick would, bites his *throat* --

"*B* --"

"Yes. You. I can still be led --"

"I'm leadin' you right now, B -- *do* me until I tell you to stop."

Bruce narrows his eyes and *growls* --

And Jason catches himself spreading his legs for it. Jesus, like Tim would --

Tim is a smart, smart kid --

Tim is *upstairs* -- but there's no way they're getting there yet. Just --

"Oh fuck -- not. You -- *bite* --"

And Bruce's teeth on his nipple are hard and sharp and perfect, just perfect -- and better when Jason can look up and see Bruce looking at *him*. He *is* still looking for direction, but he's also just doing what he wants --

Bruce *wants* him --

Jason pants a little and shoves his hands into Bruce's hair -- "C'mon, you want me to talk --"

Bruce *shows* the teeth holding Jason's nipple and *nods* --

"You gotta -- you gotta lead *me* -- oh, *Jesus* --"

Bruce sucks his way off Jason's nipple with a slurp, a cool *rush* of air -- "Tell me about Clark. More about Clark."

"Unh? You -- he's a fucking *pervert* -- no, don't look confused and stop. Do *not* look confused and stop --"

Bruce *blanks* his expression and *then* licks around Jason's other nipple --

"Oh my *God*, that's creepy! Look confused again --"

Bruce does it and *nibbles* Jason's nipple --

No, that gets harder and harder, too, that -- 

Bite after *bite* --

"Oh -- fuck, you're making me so hard --"

And Bruce squeezes his eyes shut and kisses his way down Jason's abdomen *roughly*. Each kiss feels like some kind of fucking *lip* punch --

He uses his *teeth* --

And then, before Jason can *breathe*, he's nuzzling Jason's cock and groaning, moaning and just rubbing his *face* --

His fucking stubble --

"*Jesus*, Bruce --"

"*Tell* me --"

"Uh. Uh. He's a pervert, and he knows it, and he knows *I* know it, and he -- he gets off on me *growing*, and that's -- I think he wanted to have me for himself -- *ohn* -- hot *mouth* --"

Bruce *hums* around the head of Jason's cock, watching for every fucking *reaction* --

"I think -- I keep him apart 'cause I want him, too, want what he can fucking *give* me --"

Bruce narrows his eyes and takes Jason in halfway --

Looks *thoughtful* --

And then swallows him just like a fucking *pro*.

"*Bruce*!"

He's trying to breathe. He's -- *hitching* --

And when he opens his eyes up wide again Jason can't see anything but how blown they are, how *gone* he is --

"Oh, Jesus, oh -- yeah, take me, then --"

Bruce grabs Jason's hips --

*Lifts* him --

"Bruce, *fuck*, you -- Clark does that --"

And his focus is back *just* like that. He --

He's staring *into* Jason while making Jason fuck his fucking *mouth* --

"No fucking *fair* --"

Bruce growls again in the second before he takes Jason deep again -- and Jason knows that he's still growling down deep, way the fuck down --

"I -- he does it -- he does it *faster* --"

Bruce shakes his head, and it may mean that he can't move Jason that fast, or it may mean that he *won't* move Jason that fast, but either way it's not happening.

Either way, Jason has to fucking take this, own it --

"M-more, B?"

A nod -- and then Bruce pulls off halfway and sucks in hard pulses, hard -- fucking --

"Bruce -- you -- *Tim* does me that way --"

Another fucking nod --

"Tim always -- he wants me to fuck his perfect little mouth -- *hnh* --"

Bruce's hands are so *hard* on Jason's hips -- wait.

"Touch my *ass*. Fucking *grip* it, and -- oh -- oh, yeah, spread me *wide* --"

Bruce groans --

And then the world is shifting and Jason's on his knees on the mats, on his fucking *face* -- "Bruce, Bruce, *upstairs*, fuck me *upstairs* --"

"Jay. I. Let me please you --"

"You *are* --"

"An orgasm. I... please. And then -- anything. Everything you want," and Bruce's voice is a rough growl, Bruce's body is fucking *heat* behind him. It's *not* like Clark, and he --

"Yeah. Yeah, you can get me off -- oh -- God, spreading me. Looking me over?"

"Beautiful..."

Jason snorts and wiggles his ass as much as Bruce *lets* him -- but then Bruce starts making hot, wet *love* to his hole just like --

"You -- Clark --"

"Mm-hmm..."

*Right*, because Clark always --

Dirty fucking alien --

Dirty fucking *man*, because Bruce isn't tongue-fucking him as much as he's -- making hot, wet love. There are nuzzles, and growls, and licks, and ---

"You -- you're makin' me *need* it, B --"

Another *growl* --

"Oh -- yeah. Yeah. I -- I won't come like this -- *hnh* --" And he hadn't *asked* for the hand on his cock, but he's fucking well *getting* it, and it's rough and sweet --

So good --

"Jesus -- *Jesus*, yeah, make me open, make me *ready* --"

Bruce pulls back and bites his fucking *cheeks* -- but then he's right back in there, and *now* he's tongue-fucking --

Pushing what feels --

It's gotta be as deep as he can *go* --

The rhythm is fucking *awkward* -- but then Jason realizes it's because *he's* trying to rock and grind at the same time, trying for more --

He always gets so *greedy* when his ass is on the -- heh -- menu --

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon -- oh -- oh, yeah, that -- oh, so *gentle* --" And he doesn't know what he's talking about -- nothing about that hand could ever be gentle, nothing so *perfect* --

But suddenly he's *up* on his knees -- and Bruce's cock is between his cheeks.

"B...?"

"I thought. I thought this would be -- allowed," Bruce says, and he sounds strained and fucking *hot* --

No, that's how he *feels* -- "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay. Just don't push in --"

"I *won't* --"

"*Yet*," Jason says, because he has to make that fucking *clear* --

"Yes. Yes," Bruce says, and the kiss he plants on Jason's throat is as shaky as his hands, but then he *grips*, cock and hip --

He holds on and he strokes --

He holds on and he *thrusts*, dragging his cock over Jason's hole over and over --

"Jesus -- don't -- do *not* wear yourself out --"

A breathless laugh. "Jay. This -- this could never be too much --"

"Too much for *me* --"

Bruce sucks in a breath --

"No, don't you stop, don't you fucking stop --"

"You -- you feel --"

"I feel *you*, B -- you're so fucking *big* --"

Bruce grunts and *licks* Jason's ear -- "Do you like that --"

"Yes -- *yes*. I wish Dick was bigger than me --"

"He's taller --"

"For -- fucking *now*. He'll always be bigger than me in my head, though -- he -- he's so *good*, B --"

"Yes," Bruce says, and starts working the head of Jason's cock with his thumb --

Jason *whimpers* --

"He's beautiful, almost -- almost gamin, but not --"

"Strong -- fucking *tough* --"

"Skilled and graceful, fearless --"

"So -- so *open*, and he fucking *gives* --"

"He loves you, Jay..."

"I love him, I love him, he's always -- never fucking *leave* him -- *hnh* -- "

And the hand that was on his hip --

That *arm* is wrapped around his chest --

He can't *breathe* --

"Jay -- Jay, I won't *ask*..."

What? No, he knows. He just made it onto the list of people Bruce *needs*, and -- fuck --

It feels *good*, but *fuck* --

Which is maybe why he sounds so fucking *mournful* when Bruce starts rubbing his hole *raw* with his cock, starts jerking him fast and hard --

"I *need* you --"

"I *know*, you crazy fucking -- oh -- oh, yeah, don't stop, don't -- *fuck* --!"

And the last thing he knows before his brain fucking *flatlines* on how hard he's coming is that Bruce is licking and biting his throat like he can't decide whether to fuck him or *eat* him --

Bruce is squeezing him --

*Milking* him and Jason can't --

He sees a *flash* of the Cave and he fucking *can't* --

He's yelling his *head* off and he wants it, he's not done, he *wants* --

Jason slumps and pants and tries to *force* himself to move, to get the fuck *going* to where he can get *laid* --

Engine.

*Dick* --

Dick wants to --

Oh, *Jesus*, *please* let him want to direct Bruce *tonight*...

Jason arranges Bruce's hands and arms into a better cuddle for himself --

"I'm sorry --"

"No. No, that was -- that was fucking fantastic, B -- and I *know* you're not used to holding people after a fuck."

"Clark... he was... educational."

"Heh. Yeah, I'll just bet. Did you give me a hickey?"

Bruce kisses the tender spot on Jason's throat --

Jason shivers --

"I don't know how easily you bruise."

Jason sighs. "Not very. Neither does Dick *or* Steph. Tim, though -- Tim bruises like crazy. It's one of the reasons why we turned him into a distance fighter."

Bruce nods, dragging his cheek against Jason's own. "I would have done the same were he my partner. He is a natural with both the staff and his... powders."

"Heh. So he did whip out the fairy dust around you. Careful with that. He formulated those things to be *mean*."

Bruce sighs and begins to stroke Jason carefully, but firmly. "You enjoy his cruelty."

Jason stiffens --

"No, please," Bruce says, and squeezes Jason hard. "Please. I mean no disrespect."

"You just can't agree with the things he does? The things we *all* do?"

Bruce lets go and moves to kneel in front of Jason. "Please. It's only that I spent many years struggling to learn where it would be appropriate for *me* to draw the proverbial line, and far, far less time learning that that which was appropriate for me was not necessarily appropriate for others."

Jason feels his nostrils flaring -- right. He laughs. "Okay, sorry. I just -- I know you've been giving Dick fucking fits over wanting to save his thirteen-year-old self."

Bruce frowns and looks at the mats. "I have learned that I am... far, far more susceptible to beautiful young men than I ever imagined possible. I believe that I want to save his parents -- or whoever had care of him -- far less than I wish to save Dick from myself," and he looks up again with a plea in his eyes. "I want to believe that I have that power over myself, Jason."

Jason frowns and tries to just -- fucking *deal*. It's not like he can say Bruce is *wrong* for trying to stop himself from fucking a thirteen-year-old -- and the old footage of Dick from back in the day says he was a *young* thirteen in a lot of fucking ways -- no, he can't. "You gotta give him his life, B. *This* is his life. He's saved more lives and given more *joy* than he could in any other way. His family -- *all* of his families -- sprawl across fucking continents. He's -- he was born for this. And for loving you."

"You. You don't how *seductive* that point of view is --"

"So be seduced already. Look at it this way -- if you'd hurt him *badly*? We'd *all* know it by now. You changed him up some, but loving somebody always changes a person. Or were you the same person you'd been before, after you'd known Harvey for a year?

Bruce frowns and reaches --

Jason twines his fingers with Bruce's own --

"Thank you. I. Harvey made me both more intelligent and more wise. Harvey opened a world to me I had never known. Harvey... didn't make love to me until twelve hours ago," Bruce says, and smiles wryly.

Jason snorts and kneels up again, shuffling closer until his thighs are spread over Bruce's own. "Yeah, that's a point. But not *all* of Harvey's reasons for waiting were *good*, yeah?"

"His career --"

"Yeah, he *had* to think about that, but it's totally not a good reason, because, ultimately, it had nothing to do with how he felt about *you*, as opposed to how fucked-up the world is."

Bruce frowns *again* --

And Jason holds up his free hand. "Easy. I'm not saying I think there's something wrong with him for giving up love for the sake of becoming someone this city *needs*. I'm just saying that it didn't do either of you any good *emotionally*."

Bruce nods slowly. "I -- we talked about what we might have shared had we been more honest with each other. I still wouldn't be able to countenance his loss as a District Attorney --"

"And neither would he, because he's kind of a hero, too. Sometimes the world is so fucked-up that you *can't* get what you need. Sometimes it isn't, though," and Jason nods toward where Dick is standing in his mask and his boxer-briefs. "You can have us. All of us."

"Harvey. Harvey is leaving -- *must* leave --"

"Yeah, he needs his wife. I'm hearing that. And you -- he'll go wherever she is."

"Yes. I..." Bruce turns to *gaze* at Dick -- and then *slowly* wraps his arms around Jason and pulls him close.

Dick lets out a shuddering sigh before peeling off his mask. His eyes look wild and fucking *hot*, which means all that calm stillness is a lie.

"Big Bird... I need him tonight."

Dick nods slowly and licks his *teeth* --

"And you always look like you're about to rip someone's *throat* out when you do that."

"You love it," Dick says, and *flashes* a smile at him --

Big Bird. Big Brother. He's -- "You always make me *safe* -- uh. I can shut up."

"No, please," Bruce says, and starts stroking his back *soothingly* --

Dick narrows his eyes. "You're going to take my orders, Bruce."

Bruce grunts, cock twitching *hard* against Jason's abdomen -- "If you wish."

"I *do* wish -- in *part* because you do," and Dick moves up to join them, pushing a hand into Bruce's hair and tugging hard. "I was too young to give this to you back then. Too... greedy."

"Every touch would've been benediction --"

"And you can *say* that even though you're clutching my little wing. I should've known this about you, boss."

"Please, not that epithet. Not... at this time."

Dick shows his teeth. "Dad...?"

"Tim. Tim called me 'Daddy --'"

Jason coughs --

Dick smiles *wider* -- "You couldn't be our father. I know that. But you're not quite our brother, yet. Are you...?"

Bruce's breathing is rough again, *heavy* again, and the way he's stroking Jason isn't soothing, at all.

Double-team now. "You know we'll show you how, B. You know we'll *keep* you."

"Jay --"

"And never, ever leave," Dick says, narrowing his eyes enough that they crinkle at the edges.

"Never alone, B. Never -- never fucking *cold*," Jason says, and remembers saying something like the same thing to Tim all those months ago --

Saying it again and *again*, because Tim wasn't just mourning his parents -- he was mourning a childhood he'd never fucking *had*. And Bruce...

Is he so different? Could he be? What the hell were the Waynes even *like*? Jason files that away to find out later and leans in, breathing against Bruce's ear --

Bruce *clutches* him --

Dick *sighs* -- "You don't know how hard it was to let other people fuck you, little wing."

Jason grunts and blinks -- "Fuck, Dick, that's -- uh. Yeah?"

"Letting other people have what I wanted more than -- almost anything. Seeing you come home with a smile on your face and just a little swagger in your walk -- I knew you liked it hard."

"I do -- fuck, I *really* do --"

"Bruce is... big. You'll use Clark's lube."

Jason licks his lips -- and *then* thinks about it. Just -- "You don't want him to stretch me."

Dick smiles down at him like a *wolf* --

And Bruce turns to nuzzle Jason's cheek, *obviously* only doing it enough not to dislodge Dick's hand in his hair. "I -- to have this night --"

"More, Bruce."

"Yeah, B. *Every* night."

"All you have to do is stay with us," Dick says, standing straight and tugging Bruce's hair *sharply*.

Bruce stands -- and lifts Jason *with* him. Fucking --

"Ooh. I'd almost forgotten how strong..." Dick sighs and lets go, stepping back. "Lift him into your arms, Bruce."

Oh, Jesus --

Bruce looks at *him* --

Fucking feathered *cape* -- "You heard the man, B -- fuck --" Right up into his arms like a *bride*, and Jason doesn't know what he'd thought Bruce would do, but --

"Oh -- yes, like that," Dick says, and his voice is gentle and *pleased* --

"Big Bird, we *gotta* talk about your kinks --"

But Dick is right there, looking down at Jason --

Looking *into* Jason --

Jason swallows and tries not to -- something, because --

"I didn't carry you like this when I could have. Let me live vicariously through Bruce," and now his voice is more *soft* than gentle, a little *unsure*, and Jason can't --

He's nodding, because he *can* do that, and he has to give Dick everything he can --

Dick has to be *sure* --

And now Dick's breathing is a little rough, his eyes are right back to being *wild* -- because Jason is putting out for him. Giving it *up* --

And so part of Jason says "I love you" just to *see* --

But the rest of him knew he'd get a kiss just like this -- hard and bruising enough that his lips are gonna swell right up again, that he's gonna fall right into everything Dick *wants* --

And everything he wants, too. Dick pulls back and Jason licks his lips. "Tim invited B to my bedroom tonight, Dick."

Dick's lips part just a *little* -- "I love the way your bedroom smells, little wing..."

And it's *possible* that Dick *didn't* want Jason to picture him walking in there just to breathe heavy --

But not all that probable.

"Yeah, uh... you know you can come in anytime --"

Dick stops him with two fingers on his mouth. "Only when you invite me. I need -- I need that."

Jason's *about* to protest that -- but then he realizes that Dick means he needs the *rules*. Just --

Something to keep things *sane*. And that -- he can go with that. Jason nods and licks Dick's fingers a little, tasting sweat and gauntlet --

Dick narrows his eyes a little, breathes through his mouth -- "I'm taking Tim tonight."

Something in Jason *twists* a little --

And Dick smiles at him. "I'll give him back."

"You know -- I *do* know that, but we gotta -- B freaked him *out* by needing him too much tonight."

The smile fades a little -- but then Dick nods, solemn and serious. "I'll be careful. I think, sometimes, that so long as I have you I'll always be able to be careful," and Dick strokes Jason's cheek before pulling back.

"I -- you'll always --"

"Shh, little wing," and Dick nods to Bruce. "Upstairs. Jason's room is your grand-uncle William's."

"All right. I -- perhaps I should dress --"

"Not tonight, b-- Bruce. Heh. Alfred is Alfred. He's ready for this."

"Dick --"

"Go on, Bruce. I promise to be *right* behind you," and Dick actually waggles his eyebrows a little, which is probably the most reassuring thing he *could've* done -- Dick is still Dick.

Bruce hitches Jason in his arms gently and *carefully*, and Jason considers offering to get *down* --

But Bruce is already moving, and Dick has his kinks, and Dick's gone without for too fucking *long* --

If Jason had *known* --

God, just -- every fucking *night* before he found Tim, and then --

Well, then he'd probably have wanted to protect Tim at least a little -- so sensitive and *small* -- but he never would've kept Tim *away* from Dick --

Unless he got scary every once in a while --

Bruce tightens his grip on Jason -- "Are you all right?"

"What? Uh -- yeah, just getting a little lost in my head, B --"

"Were you thinking of me, little wing?"

Jason closes his eyes -- "Yeah. A little. What I would've done if I'd known you needed me like this. Stuff like that."

Dick's laugh is too *quiet* -- "You mean you wouldn't have run away from the lying kidfucker...?"

Jason winces. There's... that.

"It's better this way, Jay. You came to know the best parts of me, and to realize that I wanted you with me for much, much more than one reason."

"I -- well, I was thinking you would've waited to come after me. Until after I'd settled down some."

"Your trust was a drug, little wing. You..." Dick sighs and does something that makes Bruce stop on the stairs, then leans over and smiles down at him. "Don't think of it as wasted time. And don't ever think that you could've given me more -- or better -- than you already have."

"Dick --"

"Think about Bruce, little wing. Think about showing me everything -- because you will."

"Oh -- fuck. Uh." And now *all* of them are looking at Jason's cock, maybe hoping it'll twitch *again*, and -- "Uh. This could make me kinda shy, guys."

Dick snorts --

"I know... I believe I can understand the feeling," Bruce says, and smiles ruefully into Jason's eyes.

He's so -- "Fuck, you're pretty -- uh. I mean --"

"You meant *that*, little wing," and Dick reaches to ruffle Jason's hair. "He's beautiful."

"Yeah. I -- pictures didn't really -- he." Jason shakes it off. "What I'm saying, B? Is that you're turning me on by *existing*."

"I believe I can understand that feeling, as well," and he's kind of *burning* into Jason's eyes -- "Please."

"Yeah. We -- we were gonna -- uh."

"Anything you wish. And everything you wish."

"Dick. Dick calls the shots --"

Bruce breathes in and out *roughly*. Just --

Jason sits up a little and wraps his arms around Bruce's neck. "Whatever Dick says, goes."

"Unless I go too far, little wing."

And Jason doesn't *want* to put that fucking *limit* on -- but he nods, anyway. "Yeah."

"Bruce... kiss him *while* you're jogging up the stairs."

"Yes," Bruce says, and the kiss is that soft one again, that *careful* one that shows exactly how much Bruce was paying attention to how well Jason reacted to the *first* kiss like that.

Jason hums into it and presses closer, mentally counting steps and trying to figure out if he could do what Bruce is doing right now without killing himself --

His pace is so fucking *even* --

The kiss is -- perfect. It's so damned affectionate and hungry --

Jason sighs into it and pushes his hands into Bruce's hair --

Bruce clutches him a little tighter --

Clock --

But Bruce just holds him with one arm and opens it with the other --

"Slow down to a *brisk* walk, Bruce."

Bruce nods and does it, guiding them inexorably towards the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, and it's only weird that he knows the way as well as they do because Jason's getting his brain kissed out of his head.

*Licked* out of his head, because Bruce is exactly as dirty as Clark is *sometimes* --

God, his own fucking -- *musk* is what Clark calls it, and probably Bruce would use the same fucking word --

Jason needs --

He *can't* twist enough to get his cock some contact, but he wants to, *needs* to --

Needs to be on his knees *yesterday* --

Bruce is fucking his *mouth* --

Jason groans and opens wide for it, begs for it with everything he has --

Bruce clutches him *tighter* -- and stops.

"That's right. Me first, I think -- *don't* stop kissing until I say so," Dick whispers, and slips past them into Jason's bedroom.

Jason sucks on Bruce's lips a little --

"Oh. Little *brother*..."

And that was Dick's *normal* voice --

So it isn't a surprise to hear Tim gasping himself awake. "Dick --"

"Look at you..."

"Ah. Ah. Um."

"These *aren't* from the disguise closet, little brother. You... mmm. Is this for Bruce...?"

Is *what* for --

But then Bruce *turns* them, so Jason opens his eyes -- "Oh fuck." Tim's sitting up in bed in a training bra and panties. Little. Little so-called boy-shorts *panties* --

"Did I say you could stop kissing, little wing....?"

"Uh. Maybe?"

Dick turns and *glitters* at him. "The answer is no... but -- somehow -- I'm feeling merciful. Bruce, put him down on the right side of the bed."

"Yes, Dick."

Tim moans and looks like he has no idea what to do with his *hands*, like maybe --

"Don't -- you don't have to cover a goddamn thing, baby --"

"*Really* not," Dick says, moving close enough to stroke the shoulder straps of the bra. "You're so beautiful, little brother... little sister?"

Tim blushes *hard*. "It -- I wasn't expecting you tonight. Um. I --"

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Tim? Do you. Do you need me to go --"

"No! I mean. Ah. I... I didn't think. I wasn't thinking clearly. And I --"

"Maybe... maybe you weren't ready for me to see you like this?"

Tim looks *pissed* -- at himself. "It's ridiculous. You've seen me in drag countless times. You've *put* me in drag countless times --"

"But this isn't really drag," Jason says, and reaches over to cup Tim's knee. "Yeah?"

The blush gets *heavier* -- and Dick comes over to kneel on the bed near Tim. He pushes Jason's hand aside *gently*, then cups Tim's face and kisses his forehead. "My beautiful little brother. You'll always be who I want -- no matter who you grow up to be."

"You -- you can't promise that -- *mmph* --"

And it looks like Dick is *drinking* from Tim's mouth, like he's maybe feeding a little and loving even *more* --

His hair falls over both their faces --

Tim reaches up to grip Dick's forearms, but not to make him let go. He's holding on for dear *life*, and -- yeah. Waking up to Dick was exciting enough when he *wasn't* bringing them his hard-ons. Like *this* --

Tim moans and shudders *hard* --

And Bruce sighs hungrily. He's still standing by the side of the bed, naked and hard and *waiting* --

"Dick, can I have Bruce on me a little?"

Dick holds up a finger, then pulls out of the kiss to lick Tim's cheeks and lips, *suck* those lips -- "I can promise anything I like -- and I'll keep it, too."

"I should -- the freedom you've given me should be *enough* --"

Dick smiles and shakes his head. "If you want to start wearing dresses to school? I'm behind you one hundred percent. If you want to put a skirt on your uniform? I'm behind you one hundred percent. I can't let you grow your hair out unless you wear a cowl, but everything else...." Dick smiles even wider. "Now. Was this for Bruce or for Jay?"

"Mostly... mostly for Jay. I was going to... talk to him. About -- ah. Anyway. Ideally, he would've brought Bruce with him so we wouldn't have to speak... much."

"We can talk anytime you *want*, bro --"

"Or we could not talk. Definitely -- I think that's a possibility worth examining at length -- oh. You. Dick..."

Jason looks -- and Dick is cupping Tim's... chest. Breast. Chest --

Tim arches for it and licks his lips --

He's *not* wearing gloss or lipstick, and somehow that's even *dirtier* -- wait. Jason looks down, and... that really isn't --

It is. "You're wearing a *gaff*, baby?"

Tim blushes again and strokes over his smooth crotch --

"No, it's okay, I mean -- uh --"

"It's *wonderful*," Dick says, and he's smiling like a *horny* wolf *and* like Clark with fresh boy in his nose. Clark and Steph are the only ones *missing* -- "Let me touch you, little brother."

"Oh -- you. You already --"

"Let me touch you *everywhere*."

Tim moans and leans in --

Dick smiles again and *squeezes* Tim's -- breast --

"*Oh* --"

And Bruce grunts *loudly*.

Dick licks his lips. "Jason, get on your belly -- *not* your hands and knees -- and spread nice and wide."

Oh, *yeah*. Jason follows orders, reaching up to grab the weirdly prison-like bars of his headboard and spreading a little wider so that he can brush Dick's thigh with his calf.

Tim cries out *high*, but when Jason turns he can't *see* --

"You'll tell Jason everything about what I'm doing to Tim. You -- you don't know how much I've wanted to *share* you, Bruce."

Bruce pants. "I. He must have feared losing your trust --"

"Or his own control. Or both, I suppose," Dick says, sighing. "Tell him."

"Jay..."

"Kneel between his *legs* and tell him, Bruce."

The bed dips kind of fucking *hugely* --

And Bruce is massaging his back just like that. Just like --

"You -- you're way too fucking good at finding where I'm *tense*, B --"

"I'd like to apologize, but it would be a lie," Bruce says, solemn *and* happy somewhere deep inside --

"*Tell* him," Dick says --

"Jay... Dick is cupping Tim's groin and... working his hand."

"Oh. Fuck. Through the *gaff* --"

"Exactly, little wing. How do you like it, Tim?"

"I like -- I like -- ah --" And then Tim makes that little *growling* sound, all high and sweet and *dark* --

"Dick has moved his hands to Tim's buttocks --"

Jason snorts. "You're totally not gonna say 'ass,' are you?"

Bruce hums like he's *deeply* amused -- and strokes two fingers down Jason's spine. "Probably not."

"Oh... not-boss. Heh. You're relaxing, aren't you?"

Bruce pauses with his hands on Jason's waist, squeezing firmly -- "Should I not?"

"Oh, I didn't say *that*," Dick says, and that's *his* hand stroking Jason's hip. "I just thought we'd all have to try a little harder. You fought me so *hard* --"

"He." Bruce swallows. "He didn't know enough about loss and fear. He didn't understand enough about mortality -- his own and the world's."

Dick's hand stops moving on Jason's hip.

Bruce grunts. "I'm sorry. For interrupting."

*Dick* grunts -- "That... you're forgiven. Provisionally."

"Yes, Dick."

Tim whimpers --

Bruce massages away Jason's tension *again* -- "Dick is kissing Tim softly. His chin, his sharp cheekbones --"

"Love those so fucking much --"

"He's beautiful, Jay. Like you. Like Dick --"

"He's fucking *pretty*. And now -- God, in that little bra and panties --"

"For you, Jay. For --"

"For fucking *us* -- *nnh*. Oh, yeah, B, your hands are *good* on my ass --"

"I'm. I'm glad..."

Jason licks his lips. "Dick, tell baby to do this a *lot*, would you?"

"I -- I *will*," Tim says -- and then gasps --

"Jay. Dick is pinching Tim's nipples through the brassiere--"

"And loving *every* second of it," Dick says, and the smile in his voice is the crazy-older-brother one, the one that always seemed so *innocent* -- "Should I fuck you like a woman, little sister...?"

"*Hnh* --! I -- *Dick* --"

"Shh, answer me. Should I lay you down and take you face-to-face? Slow and hard and serious...?"

Tim growls again, and Jason can *feel* him needing to lunge a little --

The mattress bounces --

Tim gasps --

And Jason can *just* see the top of Tim's head. He's on his back --

Bruce sighs. "Dick has pinned Tim --"

Tim groans --

"Tim... Tim is shivering so..." Bruce strokes Jason's back and sides and ass --

Bruce *spreads* Jason's ass --

*Jason* groans --

"Keep talking, Bruce," Dick says. "You know what you have to do."

"Yes. I. May I kiss Jay's skin."

"Not yet. Not -- not quite yet."

"Yes, Dick," Bruce says, and lets go of Jason's ass. "Jay, Dick is stroking Tim's body almost restlessly, almost... it seems as though Dick is *teaching* himself Tim's body --"

"Oh, I *really* am. What you may have missed, little wing, is that little brother shaved his long, lean legs."

Jason grunts and thrusts against the bed --

Dick sighs a laugh. "He likes it, Tim. You're making him hard. Just like me."

Tim moans -- "You -- Bruce, too --"

"Bruce *always*, little brother. Little sister. Tell me which...?"

Tim *sobs* -- "I -- I *can't* --"

"Shh, shh, it's all right. Answer my other question, then."

"Anything, Dick! Anything you *want*!"

Yeah, that --

That's just --

("Oh, Jay, please, please, just do what you *want*! Let me *feel* --")

Jason has fucking *reflexes* for that, and maybe that's why he's humping the fucking bed. Just -- "*Fuck* --"

"Oh, good instincts, Bruce," Dick says, and strokes a line down Jason's side. "We *don't* want Jay to come too fast."

"No, I. I would like to be. Inside. When he has his orgasm," Bruce says, and his hands are fucking *steel* on Jason's hips. He's holding Jason still and holding him *up* --

"Uh. Please?"

"What are you begging for, little wing?"

"Something? Uh. I gotta get fucked, Big Bird -- oh Jesus --" Bruce is fucking *gripping* him now --

And Dick hums. "Does that hurt?"

"Yeah. I. A little --"

"*Don't* let go, Bruce."

"But --"

"I like it, B, I fucking love it -- feels like you can fucking twist my pelvis the wrong way --"

"He *probably* can," Dick says. "Make a date to watch him work out sometime, little wing."

"Yeah, sure, okay --"

"Tim..."

Tim jerks a little --

And Bruce's hands *shake* on Jason's hips. "Jay... Dick has just...ground against Tim's groin."

Jason moans. "That -- that little hip action -- fuck, I wanna *see* --"

"Not yet, little wing. But you'll see, and feel... *taste*... Tim. Will you be my little sister tonight?"

"I -- I -- "

"Say yes to me. Please say yes to me, little -- heh. Tim. Please *trust* me."

Tim takes that *shuddery* breath -- the kind that either means he's choking on his own cock or that he's freaking a little -- and Jason reaches out for Dick.

Dick grips Jason's fingers. "Too much, little wing?"

"Uh. Tim...?"

"Yes. Yes, Jay."

"Dick needs you to talk now, okay, baby?"

"It's -- very hard. Difficult. Ah. I already know you'll take -- all of me. And Bruce doesn't -- I mean, he doesn't have a baseline for me to be... shaken. Or -- you know what I mean."

"I do, baby, but -- Dick loves you. Dick's never gonna... he's *thrilled* right now. You could hear that in his voice."

Tim moans, low and sweet -- "Yes. Yes. I just -- I don't --"

"All of you, Tim," Dick says, and his breathing is rougher now. *Louder*. "I need everything you can give me."

"Oh, but -- you love your little *brother* --"

"I'm so glad you understand that now. I'm so..." Dick laughs softly, breathlessly --

Bruce loosens his grip -- and tightens it right back up again. "Dick is nuzzling Tim's mouth, Jay. He is... his hair is hiding much. It -- I find it to be a tease, and I've begun to worry about my control."

"You can handle this, Bruce. You *will* be fucking my little wing. I..."

"Dick... has not moved away from Tim's soft mouth. He is licking it gently. Perhaps... perhaps urging him to open it with only his tongue --"

"*Oh* -- *mmm* --"

Bruce flexes his hands on Jason's hips again. "Dick is kissing Tim... very deeply now. He seems almost to be feeding on... such beautiful boys, so -- Dick is smiling, perhaps for my... distraction. He's nodding -- and Tim has pushed Dick's hair out of the way. Tim is... very kind..."

Jason licks his lips again. "He knows you need him."

"You. All of you, please. Please."

Dick hums -- and the hum stops being muffled, so Jason knows he's pulling back --

"Baby... do you *want* it?"

"Yes -- I'm *frightened* --"

Dick sighs. "I can smell it -- just a little. It probably shouldn't be turning me on more, little -- Tim. But it is. Let me have you."

Tim gasps -- "Dick --"

"You know how to make the fear go away, Tim."

"I do. I --"

"You know what *I*... need."

Tim's moan sounds like it *hurts*, and Jason feels himself blush, feels himself need to *hold* Tim, taste him, bite him, hold him down --

And then Bruce flexes his hands *again*, and everything in Jason flips right over to needing --

He's gotta wait his *turn* -- but. "Baby... give it up."

"Jay, I -- "

"I *promise* it's gonna be okay. Never alone. Never --"

"Oh -- oh, yes, and you won't -- even if Dick -- Dick, *kiss* me -- *mm*!"

Bruce moans so *quietly* -- "They are... straining against each other --"

Tim *grunts* --

"Dick has pulled the shoulder-straps of the training bra down over Tim's arms. He. The upper part of Tim's pectorals --"

"His *breasts*, B. He -- he's showing off his *breasts* --"

Bruce groans and flexes his hands over and over. "I want. I want to make love to him. To her. To -- all of Tim --"

Dick shoves Tim further up the bed -- and Jason can see that Tim's nodding, see --

"Dick is making love to Tim's throat. So -- long and pale. Slender --"

"*Anything*, Dick --"

Dick growls --

"Dick has bitten Tim... very firmly. Tim seems stunned, or. Perhaps *struck* by the force --"

"Biting me, he's -- *please*, Dick, I do want it, I do want to be your... your *girl* --"

Dick growls again --

"Dick is shuddering, Jay. I believe he is attempting to find... control."

"Oh -- I *really* am. I -- heh. Bruce, the lubricant is in the drawer beside you. The glowing bottle is for you. The plain plastic one is for me."

Bruce squeezes so hard Jason cries *out* --

"Oh, little wing. He's gonna blow your *mind*."

"Uh, huh, okay, *please* --"

"May I kiss him --"

"Lube first," Dick says, and --

"Dick is making love to Tim's throat again, nuzzling and mouthing..."

Jason can hear the drawer opening fucking *slowly* -- "B, c'mon --"

Faster, then, and Bruce sets the Superlube down by Jason's waist. It's warm enough through the bottle to make Jason shiver, a little --

Dick hums what sounds like a thank-you --

Tim moans, and the way the mattress is moving a *little* means that he's writhing slowly, a little *carefully* --

"Dick is... biting a path across Tim's throat. I would like to do that to you, Jay. I would like... your musculature is so broad, so... thick and perfectly-formed --"

"I'm just -- big. You're fucking *huge* --"

"I want your taste, Jay. I want to make love to you for... for many hours --"

Tim cries out and *jerks* beside him --

"Dick is kissing Tim's... breasts. He's being... gentle. More gentle --"

"Dick -- oh, *Dick* -- *ahn* --"

"His nipples must be... very sensitive..."

Jason moans and tries to hump the bed again -- it's not happening. "They -- they are. I can't -- you can't even suck on 'em for too long --"

"I want. May I suckle yours again --"

Dick grunts and *slurps* -- "His back, Bruce. *Mark* him."

"*Fuck*, Big Bird --"

"Do you -- mm. Have objections?"

"Fuck, no, I'm just trying to stay a little fucking *sane* here --"

Tim -- giggles. "*Don't*, Jay!"

And what he'll do for that giggle --

*Everything* he'd do for it --

Jason closes his eyes and grips the sheets a little. "B -- do me."

*

It's difficult to let go of Jason's hips, which are only lean in comparison to the rest of his broad and growing body. He --

A part of him is imagining Clark in his own position -- in a position Clark *has* been in before --

Jason had said he thought Clark *enjoyed* his growth, and implied a depth of perversion --

*Pleasurable* perversion --

Jason shudders -- "B..."

He is not the only one who has been made to wait, and Dick's order was clear. Dick himself is lapping at the stiff peak of Tim's nipple while Tim shivers and cards through Dick's hair --

Bruce wants to *share* that, but -- not yet.

He relaxes his grip on Jason's hips and leans in to kiss the back of Jason's neck. Gooseflesh forms immediately -- he was expecting a bite.

Bruce has been *told* to --

But he can kiss for a moment longer, lick for the salt of Jason's flesh, Jason's *hunger* --

"Bruuucie."

Bruce shudders. "I apologize, Dick."

Dick laughs quietly and licks his lips. "You can be gentle *another* time. Now do what I say."

That was, almost certainly, the voice Dick uses to command others while he is wearing Robin. That much is clear by the way both Jason and Tim are moaning, arching and *striving*. It makes Bruce wonder whether or not the Batman could ever be welcome in this bed --

But those thoughts bring him no closer to submitting as he must in order to *please*. Bruce bites the back of Jason's neck carefully, slowly increasing the pressure --

"Oh -- oh, *yeah*, B..." And Jason shudders and flexes his hands in the sheets --

He tenses more and more as Bruce increases the pressure -- but then he relaxes all over and begins to pant.

"Hurts. You -- Fuck, *more* --"

Bruce nods and gives himself over to the expanse of flesh before him, to the permission he has been given --

For bites near his obliques, Jason stretches.

For bites over his deltoids, Jason claws at the sheets.

For bites near to his spine --

"Hnh -- oh, c'mon, c'mon --"

"What do you need, little wing?"

Bruce blinks -- he hasn't been monitoring what's going on beside him. He looks --

Tim is a sprawl of himself, but not loose-limbed. His navel is wet, and his half-exposed breasts are tense and reddened --

And Jason is beginning to sound winded and *hurt*. Bruce kneels up and strokes Jason's sides, massages around his new bruises --

"Oh -- fucking *God*, Big Bird. He -- I'm covered in *bites*."

"*Bruce's* bites."

"Yeah. Fuck -- I need more. You *know* I need more --"

"I do," Dick says, and his voice is almost a *purr* --

Tim whimpers and arches --

Dick splays a hand on Tim's chest and pushes him back *down* --

"Oh, God, *Dick* --"

"Shh, it's okay, Tim, I've got you," and Dick smiles down at Tim for a moment, fond and loving and *dark* --

Tim plants his feet and spreads his legs --

And that's enough -- *more* than -- to make Bruce need to lean over and bite Jason in more places, to --

"Fucking -- *Bruce* --"

Bruce grips Jason's hips to keep him from thrusting again --

And Dick is panting. "All -- all of you. I -- heh." Dick shakes himself all over. "Open him, Bruce. One finger until you have the lube spread around, and then *immediately* two --"

"Oh -- *fuck*, Big Bird --"

"And think about me *starting* with two, little wing --"

Jason whines and *fights* against the hold Bruce has on his hips --

"Oh, that... that's beautiful," Dick says, laughing again and turning back to Tim --

"You feel... free," Bruce says -- he needs to *know* --

"I *am* free, Bruce. I -- my perfect brothers are right here, and so are *you*. I never thought -- of course I never thought there'd be anything like this --" Dick sighs a laugh and scrubs at his eyes before the tears can fully form -- "Tim..."

Tim whimpers. "Yes. Yes, Dick."

"Are you ready for me to take your panties off?"

Tim gasps, apparently at least slightly *shocked* --

No, there *is* reason for that. Someone like Tim would've built many walls between himself and his desires, between his intellect and his fantasies, and, of course, between his pragmatism and his *dreams*.

Dick is tearing down every one --

"Please, Dick. Please let me -- a few more minutes?"

Dick pants. "And if I don't want to wait so long?"

Tim immediately pushes his thumbs beneath the waistband of his panties and lifts his hips --

And Dick nods and pushes Tim back down by the simple expedient --

"Jay..."

Jason shudders. "I'm. I'm listening, B --"

"Dick is holding Tim down with a hand on his groin."

"Oh -- *Jesus* -- is Tim --"

"Tim is shaking and staring -- I. His eyes are very wide and grey in this light."

"Love that, love -- c'mon, B, don't make me *wait* anymore --"

"No, I. I fear your heat."

"You -- *what*?"

"I fear... what I will do once I feel your heat --"

"Uh."

Dick laughs -- "Don't worry so much, Bruce. *I* know you're not gonna do anything but finger Jason until he's *begging* for your dick."

Bruce opens his mouth -- and can't stop himself from trying to taste the air. Everything --

All of these beautiful *boys* -- young men. They want him as their brother. They want to *keep* him, and no one has ever --

Harvey has always kept such feelings *apart*, has never allowed himself the sort of greed Dick's family raises to a virtue --

And Bruce wants to wallow. 

Perhaps that's why his hands don't shake on the warm and glowing bottle. Perhaps that's why the need to question what this lubricant is *made* of can be brushed aside so easily, so perfectly as Bruce slicks his fingers with warmth --

"Oh -- fuck, B, my body knows that *scent* --"

"Mine, as well," Bruce says, spreading Jason --

Tim cries out, and when Bruce looks --

"Jay. Dick has lifted Tim's legs. He -- he has rested Tim's ankles on his right shoulder."

"Oh -- both. I -- he always gets so *crazy* when I hold both of his ankles --"

"I know," Dick says, and the purr is back in his voice --

Tim cries out again, and Dick is massaging Tim's anus through his panties. That --

Bruce sighs and touches Jason there --

"*Oh* -- fuck yeah, B, do it --"

*In*, then, just one finger --

But Jason moans as if it's much more than that, and this is something to remember. He will not --

He doesn't have to *hurt* Jason this way --

Bruce holds his finger inside Jason until the moan turns to pants and shifts --

And then he begins to work it all around, noting the feel of Jason -- he is less smooth inside than Clark had been, and Bruce isn't sure if that's a function of greater activity or --

"*Bruce*."

"Yes. Yes, Jay --"

"Fuck me, get me ready --"

"Easy, little wing. You have to let Bruce... ease the way."

Jason groans and grabs the headboard again, rubbing his sweat-damp face against the sheets. "I know that. I -- he's in me, Dick."

Dick sighs and begins to tug Tim's panties down. "He'll be in you even more than that."

Jason blushes and *grinds* his face against the pillow -- and clenches.

Bruce hears himself groan --

Jason clenches *again* --

"*Jay* --"

"You -- you can't make me *wait* like this, B --"

"*Don't* beg yet, little wing --"

Jason groans again -- "Dick, *please* --"

And Tim screams, sharp and high.

"What -- what --"

"Jay, you..." Bruce shakes his head and licks his lips. "Dick has entered Tim with his thumb. I don't believe he lubricated his finger --"

"*Fuck* -- Dick, don't punish him when I fuck up --"

"Was that punishment, Tim?"

Tim pants and stares up at Dick. His eyes are still wide, and his cheeks are flushed pink. As pink as his areolae...

"Answer me, little sister."

Tim shivers and blushes more deeply -- "It. It's supposed to hurt a little."

Bruce twitches and hears himself *grunt* --

"Oh, *Jesus*, that's --"

"Perfect," Dick says, and breathes deeply, *harshly*. "Perfect little girl..."

Tim blushes for that -- but also looks at Dick from under his lashes. The passion there is banked, but only *loosely*. Bruce thinks --

Bruce thinks he should be able to hear Tim's heart pound.

"Baby --"

"It hurt when you fucked me the first time, Jay..."

"Yeah, I --"

"And again -- you *hurt* me --"

Jason groans and *grips* the bars of the headboard. "Tim --"

"It's like -- every time --" Tim shakes his head. "It means more. You *know* that."

Bruce shudders. Dick pants. Jason *groans* --

"I get it, baby. I -- I'm relaxing over here --"

"Help him do that, Bruce," Dick says, and starts working his thumb inside Tim --

Tim's noises are sharp and *rhythmic* --

Dick never looks *away* from him -- no. No. Dick never looks away from *her*, and there is no difficulty in understanding why.

And Jason groans again and *writhes*. "Fuck, I -- I *know* that sound --"

"Will." Bruce swallows --

"No hesitation, Bruce," and Dick sucks a kiss to Tim's right ankle -- and his gaze glitters and almost seems to *spark* with command.

"Yes, Dick," and Bruce turns back to Jason, unsurprised to find himself using his free hand to massage away tension. "I want to know if you'll make such noises for me."

Jason grunts. "Uh. Let's find out? A lot?"

Tim giggles his way through a *cry* --

And Bruce can already feel greater looseness. Greater *welcome*. He licks his lips -- and remembers Dick's command. Still, it *must* be better to pull out first --

"Oh, *Jesus*, Bruce, *please* --"

"No *begging* -- ooh, I see why. You know what you have to do, Bruce."

"*Yes*," Bruce says, rubbing his fingers together utterly unnecessarily and pushing in with two --

"*Unh* -- fuck, *yeah* --"

"Jay..." Bruce shakes his head and massages away tension in his lower back --

Presses on bite-marks --

And Jason is far too strong for Bruce to even consider trying to hold him still with one hand, but there is desire --

There is pleasure in watching him *grind* against the sheets --

"Oh, little wiiing..."

"*Fuck* -- Dick, what -- I'm listening --"

"The more you grind? The longer I make you wait for Bruce's dick."

Jason grunts and stops grinding immediately, holding himself still and tense --

Shuddering for the feel of Bruce thrusting in --

Moaning for the feel of Bruce thrusting *deep* --

"*Dick*!" And Tim's voice is high and hungry enough that Bruce *must* look --

Oh... "Dick has removed his thumb from Tim's rectum and is lubricating his fingers while Tim stares almost fixedly."

"Fuck, sometimes I think you can *hypnotize* Tim that way --"

Tim snorts and glares at Jason, glittering and hot --

"I believe..." Bruce crooks his fingers testingly --

Jason groans --

Yes -- "I believe Tim will take revenge on you for that statement, Jason."

"God, I fucking hope so -- oh -- ohn -- Dick, can I have --"

"Faster...?"

"*Yes* --"

"Will you come?"

"Uh. I -- no? No."

Dick's laugh is as sweet and musical as, perhaps, Tim wishes her own could be -- and then he pushes *deep* with his first two fingers --

And Tim screams and *shakes*, attention pulled away from everything *but* what Dick is doing --

Her eldest brother --

Her *lover* --

Bruce swallows and forces himself to keep his thrusts steady, *even* --

"God, fuck, *tell* me --"

"She..." Bruce breathes. "She has thrown her head back --"

"Oh, *baby* --"

"Ahn! *Ahn*!"

"She is... lifting her legs from Dick's shoulders so that she can spread them wide. Wider. She is... offering herself --"

"She's giving me everything now. Aren't you, little sister?"

"Yes! *Oh*!"

Jason moans and grinds once --

Stops himself --

Shudders what seems to be almost *painfully* hard -- "She's always *wanted* to, Dick --"

"I *listened* to those conversations, little wing --"

"*Fuck* --"

And Tim whimpers and stares --

And Dick smiles sharply once more and begins to rock his fingers, to *take* more than prepare -- "Every one of them, little sister. Every *moment* of them."

Another whimper --

"Clark would -- mm, yeah, clench for me again --"

Tim shivers and cries out --

"Good girl. *Beautiful* girl. Clark would *notify* me whenever the conversation took that kind of turn -- to make sure I *knew* to pay attention. Clark *tried* to give you both to me, tried so hard..."

"Have to -- have to fucking *thank* him," Jason says, and there's a pause as the brothers turn to the windows --

Bruce pauses, as well --

They turn to the door --

And then Dick laughs and starts thrusting --

"Nnh -- *please* --"

"*Whatever* you're doing, Clark? *Know* that you're appreciated," Dick says --

"*Seriously*, yes," and Jason clenches around Bruce's fingers --

"Don't make him wait anymore, Bruce. I need to hear him make... mm. A *lot* of noise."

"Oh, fuck --"

"As you say," and Bruce shifts until he can put pressure on the space between Jason's shoulder blades --

"Oh, God, I fucking *love* -- that -- oh -- oh, God, *Bruce* --"

"Yes," Bruce says, helpless to the sound of his name in Jason's voice, to the fact --

He's being *pleasing* --

Will he grow accustomed to this? Had Dick's Bruce? Is that *possible*? It seems as though it would be somewhat *miraculous* -- though less so than Jason, who is a feast for the senses. The scent of his sweat is strong enough for a fully-adult male, and the way his muscles work just beneath the skin --

The way he moans and shifts *shamelessly* as he tries to follow Dick's commands --

Bruce flares his nostrils in an attempt to get more of him, to have --

Oh, he's shouting --

*Shuddering* --

"*Please*! Please, I'll come!"

Bruce grunts and feels himself twitch, jerk, *need* -- "I want. I want that --"

Except that Dick's hand is *iron* on Bruce's wrist. "No, you don't."

Bruce shivers and stops thrusting -- oh, he was rubbing Jason's prostate. That -- the shiver is more of a shudder. He blows out a breath. "I'm sorry, Dick."

Dick hums -- and turns to *survey* his brothers.

Jason is panting and doing his best to writhe in *place*.

Tim is --

Oh, Dick is still thrusting with his other hand, but Tim is trying to swallow her noises --

Tim is gripping the bars of Jason's headboard and panting, high and --

So sweet --

She is --

"You're forgiven, Bruce. I didn't tell you *not* to do that. But... tell Jason about his baby."

Jason groans and cuts himself off --

*Starts* to reach toward Tim and stops himself --

Clenches and beats his face against the pillow -- and Bruce has to catch him by his hair, hold him --

"Oh, fuck *me* -- *nnh* --" And Jason's clench is vicious, sharp --

Jason moans and *shakes* --

And only Dick's hand on his wrist *could* keep him from thrusting more. "I *want* --"

"I know, Bruce. But trust me -- we'll *all* enjoy it more if you make Jason wait to come until your dick's in him."

Bruce licks his lips. "You are... gentle."

Dick laughs softly -- and does something with his other hand which makes Tim go rigid and drum her feet even as she bites her soft lip -- "Sometimes."

Bruce nods. "I will remember that," he says, and tugs Jason's hair --

"I'm listening!"

Bruce growls because he can't *help* himself --

"Oh -- God, *believe* me, I'm listening --"

"Tim is -- restraining her sounds."

"Oh -- God. Baby --"

"Can't -- you -- you always *lose* it faster when I'm loud --"

"Because it's fucking *hot*. And -- and you can't think about me right now."

Tim makes a questioning sound that turns into a sharp and *brief* cry --

Another --

*She* growls, and it's abortive and loud enough to make Dick *pant* --

"You gotta -- you're *Dick's* little girl tonight --"

"Oh -- fuck, *Jay*!"

Dick's hand trembles on Bruce's wrist -- but only for a moment before he firms his grip. He doesn't speak --

And Jason licks his lips. "It's what you said, baby. It's what you *want*."

"Oh -- God. Yes. Yes, I -- big brother..."

Dick's grip becomes *painful*. "I'm right here, little sister. What do you need?"

Tim pants and stares --

Bruce cards through Jason's hair. "Tim is... I can almost feel her shudders from here. It is, I believe, a difficult question."

Dick smiles. "A necessary one, though. Tell me, little sister. Give me that, too."

Tim moans -- croons. "I. I..."

"Her blush is deep, Jason. As lovely as every other part of her..." Bruce licks his lips. "I want to watch you making love with her. I want to learn more about cosmetics so that I could, perhaps, someday apply it for her --"

"'Someday,' Bruce...?" And Dick *strokes* Bruce's wrist with his index finger --

And Tim stares *into* him --

And Jason is still, and tense, and *waiting* --

They're *all* waiting -- and Bruce is blushing for so many reasons, so many --

The scent of this room, as if there could never be anything stronger than love and good, restful sleep.

The brothers reaching for him with all of themselves.

The man down the hall *willing* this for him.

The --

Clark, and everything --

Stephanie, and the *challenge* of her, the *chance* he'd never thought he could ever have --

Everything he's *wanted* to say, and feel, and *show* --

The *emptiness* in him where the Bat --

Where the *voice* had been, pushing him --

*Riding* him, as Harvey had said --

He had ridden himself. He had -- he'd *known* that, but here, in this moment where he's being watched and *waited* for --

*Hoped* for --

To never be alone again. To never shiver in his bed at dawn and *ache*. To always know he's *connected* to people who can --

Who can love him for precisely who he is -- and for everything he can become.

Bruce feels himself break out in fresh sweat, opens his mouth -- but only a croak comes out, desperate and broken, so --

"We're here," Dick says, and his voice is so *soft* --

"I need. I need a lot of things," Tim says, and her smile is rueful and quiet. "You're -- well, obviously you're not a thing, but -- oh..."

And for a moment Bruce doesn't know why she'd stopped -- but then he realizes that he's blushing --

Shaking --

"B... God. I can *feel* you. I -- can't you feel us?"

"Oh -- I want you to --"

"I *need* you to," and Dick strokes from Bruce's wrist over his forearm, up to his biceps --

His grip is so strong, his hand so *hard* --

"I feel," Bruce says, and shudders --

Needs --

"I feel you. I need -- I've been... so *empty* --"

Dick squeezes hard. "Never again."

Jason and Tim are silent, but the weight of their patience, their desire, their --

"I never thought. I never thought I could inspire... hope."

Dick grins at him.

Tim raises a *thoughtful* eyebrow --

"Well, that was kinda fucking *asstarded* of you, B. You're a *hero*. It's in the *regs*."

Bruce coughs a laugh and smiles, feeling it painful on his face and in his chest, tight in his *throat* -- "Yes," he says, and it's another croak, and it comes with the sense of the world shifting --

His *self* shifting --

There is an emptiness within him that's *contracting*, faster and faster until it seems as though he should be trying to equalize the *air* pressure --

Tim's smile is much better.

Dick's smile is brilliant and triumphant at *once* --

"Heh. Admit it, B -- it's totally my ass," Jason says, and -- wiggles it.

Tim hums. "Don't steal my moves, Jay."

"It's an *homage*, baby --"

"It *is*... inspiring," Dick says, leaning close and kissing Bruce's cheek. "What do *you* need, hmm?"

"This. You." Bruce shakes his head. "All of you. Please. And -- perhaps if I could somehow convince Stephanie --"

"To fuck you....?"

Bruce blushes again. "I was hoping... to make her laugh again. And -- repeatedly."

Dick's expression softens. "I'm pretty sure you'll be able to manage that -- mm. I'm still not calling you 'boss.'"

"Please -- no."

Dick breathes deep and closes his eyes. "'You have been everything to me, and more than I could ever imagine. You have been lover, and friend, and partner. You have been inspiration and teacher. You have been my companion on the path we walked together. You have been my brother of the spirit," and Dick's voice is low, grating, *gritted* --

And the way Jason and Tim stiffen --

Bruce breathes deep and reaches to cover Dick's hand with his free one. "Those were his last words to you."

"His last words period," Dick says. "I tried to get him to stop, to wait, to hold on to his *strength*..." He shakes his head.

"I believe. I believe I would've told you that you were my strength."

Dick smiles at him, and there is a shine in his eyes which speaks of both old pain and love, so *much* -- "Brother."

Bruce stiffens and blinks. "Dick --"

"Brother," Jason says, and clenches *viciously* hard around his fingers -- "Oh, *yeah* --"

"Brother," Tim says, and puts his ankles back on Dick's shoulders -- his toenails are painted a pale coral. "I believe three is the magic number...?"

"You. All of you --"

"You *had* to see it coming, B."

"Did I?"

"My little wing never lies, Bruce. Mainly because he's *terrible* at it."

"Hey, I think that proves I have excellent fucking *character*, Big Bird --"

"Are you saying I *don't*?" And Tim's voice is, Bruce believes, closer to *Tink's* --

"Oh... Tim. Not yet. Please," Dick says, moving his hand from Bruce's biceps to her -- his? -- ankle.

Tim gasps -- "I'm sorry --"

Dick shakes his head. "If you need to change --"

"I *don't*!" And Tim sits up, bending herself in half to reach for Dick's face --

Dick sucks her fingertips for a moment --

"Oh -- Dick --"

"Tell me what you need."

Tim blushes deeply and turns *slightly* toward Jason before turning back. "You. I -- my big brother."

Dick smiles and *licks* her fingertips. "Be specific."

Tim moans --

Jason *shudders* --

And Bruce gives himself over to stroking the sweat-slick skin of Jason's back with his free hand, to feeling his *heat* --

"I'm good, B --"

"You're more -- you're beautiful -- I want you."

Another shudder -- and Jason spreads his arms until he's gripping bars that are further apart than the ones he had been gripping. And he spreads his legs as well. "I'm yours just as soon as Dick says so --"

"Soon," and Dick bites Tim's ankle. "Say what you want, little sister."

She moans once more -- "You, I want you, I want to be yours. I want -- to sit on your lap again --"

Dick pants harshly -- "Yes."

Tim nods and *flushes*. "I want you to be... I want you to fuck me the way you fucked Jay --"

"I don't -- normally -- fuck women that way, little sister."

Tim grunts, penis twitching as she clutches at the sheets. "Oh -- oh."

"I do it harder," Dick says, licking his lips and smiling. "Dirtier, too."

"Hnh -- I --"

"Call it... call it the inevitable result of learning to love women with an Amazon and a Tamaranian."

Jason snickers --

And Tim nods slowly and *hungrily* --

And Bruce wants, badly, to ask about Owl, about Barbara *Gordon* -- and he will. He --

He knows that he *can*, nearly whenever he *wishes* --

"Brothers," he blurts, helplessly, and Jason and Tim jump slightly --

And Dick smiles more broadly. "Exactly, Bruce. Tell Jason about the beautiful girl currently learning what it *means* to be mine."

Jason grunts and *thrusts* against the bed -- once. "God -- fuck -- I'm sorry --"

"Shh," Dick says, and strokes from Tim's ankle to her buttock, squeezing and *lifting* --

Bruce swallows. "He is lifting her by the buttock. He... like so," Bruce says, and squeezes Jason's buttock roughly --

"Oh -- fuck, I wanted Dick to do that to me so *much* --"

Dick growls. "I had to grow up a little more, Jay. You know that now."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," and Jason clenches once --

Twice --

And the third time he groans, shudders all over -- "Please more, B..."

Bruce squeezes *hard* --

"*Nnh* --"

"Tim seems... almost drugged by the expression in Dick's eyes, and, perhaps, by the slow and steady rock of his fingers. She has begun repressing her sounds once more, and her control is... tempting. Maddening --"

"More the latter for *me* --"

"*Hnh* -- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to that time --"

"Then why, little sister?"

"I don't -- I don't want to stop being able to hear *you*, Dick -- *ahn* -- oh -- *please*!"

"Hard, like this, little sister..."

"Oh, *God* --"

"And... I'll make it easy on you. Are you ready?"

"Yes, please!"

"You have to be *quiet*... but you *can't* be silent."

Her legs *shake* -- "Yes, big brother, *please* -- oh -- oh, *yes* --"

"And you're not allowed to come."

"She is nodding almost frantically, and I... Dick."

"Yes, brother?"

The ache -- "There is an ache, diffuse and sweet at once..."

Dick grins --

Bruce shakes his head. "Please, may I --"

"Give Jason *this* rhythm... but don't touch his prostate."

"Thank you --"

"Thank you thank you -- oh, *Jesus*, Dick, like *that*?"

"Mm-hmm. Tim..."

"Nnh -- please -- please make me do something *else*, big brother!"

Dick sighs. "You don't know how crazy you make me -- bend your *right* knee back to your chest -- oh, yes."

"Bruce -- *Bruce*, tell me how *Dick* looks!" And Jason sounds desperate, hungry --

He's tense and *straining* --

And Dick turns just enough -- to make it easy for Bruce.

"Jay... he looks wild inside, dark and *pridefully* hungry --"

"I know I'm gonna get what I want, Jaybird..."

"*Please* --"

"Yes, *please*!"

"Like *this*, Bruce," and Dick takes Tim harder, *faster* --

"Yes!"

"*Unh* -- oh, fuck, fuck, *fuck*!"

And Bruce feels himself flushing, feels --

He's hot all over, aching *less* diffusely --

It feels as though he has been erect for some improbably *crippling* length of time --

But he knows he will get what he desires, as well. He knows that he'll get so *much* from these brothers --

*His* brothers, so accepting, so welcoming --

And Bruce presses down between Jason's shoulder blades again --

And Jason shouts loudly, shouts out his *air* until he's gasping and shaking --

And Tim is crying out and *holding* her leg to her --

"Tim... Tim's left breast is fully exposed now. Her nipple seems to be erect to the point of pain --"

"*Fuck* -- I'll *come* --"

"*Stop*," Dick growls, and does just that --

And Jason whines --

And Tim *whimpers* --

And Dick shows his teeth without looking away from Tim. "Are you ready, Bruce?"

Bruce's penis spasms violently, and he feels as erect, as *slick* as he's ever been -- "*Yes*."

Dick laughs again -- "With me. On three, two, one --" And he pulls out slowly --

And Bruce does the same slightly faster to accommodate his longer fingers --

And Tim croons --

And Jason *yanks* on the headboard --

"Pull him up onto his knees... but keep his head *down*."

"Yes, Dick," and Bruce does just that, nostrils flaring at the waft of fresh scent from Jason's penis, his pre-ejaculate --

"*Fuck*, Dick --"

"Shh."

Jason is shuddering and rocking, urging with his body, as Bruce uses more of the lubricant on his penis, as he sighs for the warmth --

As he lets himself tense and strain *with* his brothers for the sound of Dick stroking himself, *slicking* himself for the beautiful girl there, just there --

Her *scrotum* is shaved --

And Jason grinds at the *air* --

He stops himself and shudders again --

"*Please* --"

"Oh, *please* --"

"Right now," Dick says, and his voice is breathy and low as he reaches out with his left hand --

Bruce takes it with his right and squeezes *hard* --

"God, *yes* -- but," and Dick laughs and twists free. "Spread yourself for Bruce, little wing."

"*Fuck* yeah --"

"Spread yourself for *me* -- oh, good girl. Now bend your other leg back -- mm." And Dick touches the head of his penis to Tim's anus --

"*Dick*!"

Bruce *presses* the head of his penis to Jason --

"Don't move, Bruce. Don't --" And Dick groans as he pushes deep within Tim in one long *thrust* --

Tim whimpers and beats at the bed without changing the position of her legs --

"Jay. Jaybird... *nn*..."

"I'm. I'm listening, Dick --"

"*Take* him."

"Fuck, fuck --" And Jason *drives* himself back with a *harsh* cry --

Bruce is too *stunned* to make a noise -- no, he's gasping, clutching at air --

No, he clutches Jason's *hips* --

Jason's cry cuts off with a *grunt* --

He is shuddering in Bruce's hands. He is flushed and flexing, still *straining* --

"*Jay*."

"B -- B --"

"Does it hurt --"

And Jason's laugh is desperate and *sunny* --  and turns into another cry when he clenches --

When Bruce *flexes* --

"Oh -- oh, *look* at you, Bruce," and Dick's eyes are glittering again. "You're holding yourself so *still*."

Bruce swallows. "So. So are you."

"I really am, but... mm. Tim isn't."

"She's... clenching?"

"Over and over and -- mmm." He turns to her. "Are you trying to make me come faster, little sister...?"

She shakes her head, eyes wide and so *full* --

"Oh, I see," Dick says, and grips her scrotum *hard*. "You're trying to start the show early."

"Unh -- *please*!"

"God, fuck, what *she* said --"

Dick laughs. "Once I start... I won't stop."

"Please, big brother --"

"Once *Bruce* starts, I won't *let* him stop."

Jason moans and beats his head against the pillow -- no. Bruce catches him by the hair again --

"Oh, *Jesus* --"

Jason clenches and *shouts* again --

And it's everything within him, every *fragment* of control he has not to thrust, to move, to *take* --

And Bruce realizes that the shudder he's feeling is his *own* --

"Please, big brother, I *need* you!"

"Can you take it, little sister?"

"I can -- I *will*!"

"Will you cry for me...?"

Tim rears back. "Do the women you fuck *usually* cry?"

Dick laughs breathlessly -- "Not even a little... but none of them were my beautiful little sister. My perfect little girl. You waited so *long* for me..."

Tim groans. "I. I'm not sure --"

"I guess we'll just have to find out," Dick says, and grips the backs of Tim's knees. "*Now*, Bruce."

And there is fear for the way his hips *snap* to respond, for the way his body simply falls in --

Slides in --

*Shoves* --

"*Bruce*!"

"*Yes*, Jay --"

"Oh -- God, you don't feel like *Clark* --"

Dick gasps a laugh. "I -- *elaborate* on that, little wing," and then he begins --

Oh, so *hard* --

Tim's sounds are almost *strangled* --

"Bruuuce..."

"Dick, I --"

"You know what to do."

Bruce swallows and wipes sweat from his temple --

Dick *yanks* Bruce's hand to his mouth and licks, groans --

Takes Tim *harder* --

And pushes Bruce's hand away again. "*Do* it, Bruce!"

And Jason's *scream* is what lets him know more *purely* that his body isn't under his control --

That his body wants everything *Dick* wants --

They're rocking the *bed*, banging the headboard against the wall --

Jason and Tim are so *loud* together, and most of Bruce's mind is with them, yelling and *begging* because this --

The slap of his scrotum against Jason's --

The *incredible* friction, so much more than what had been *possible* with Clark --

"Jaybird. *Talk*."

"Fuck, fuck -- you -- I *forgot* --"

"How -- how is it *different*," Bruce says, because he needs this, as well, needs it for himself *and* for Dick --

Needs it perhaps as much as he needs -- no. Nothing could ever be as blinding, as *staggering* as this motion, this welcoming heat --

Nothing save making love with everyone else he has come to know -- and know better -- these past few days. It -- there is a *smile* on his face, and he can do nothing about it save acknowledge the *lustful* wonder on Dick's face --

The blankly pleasured *desperation* on Tim's -- no, that belongs to Dick right now, but --

Bruce knows, now, one of the ways to *put* that look on Tim's face.

Just as he knows how to make Jason grunt rhythmically and *claw* at the sheets --

How to --

Oh, he *sobs* --

And Dick *grunts* -- "*Do* it, Jay."

Jason cries out -- "Clark -- Clark doesn't --" Jason groans and shudders --

Strikes out with his palm and *bangs* the headboard --

And Dick laughs breathlessly and hums. "Doesn't hurt you, maybe?"

"Not -- not like this -- so fucking *big* -- *unh* -- *unh* --" And Jason *fights* against Bruce's hold --

Tries to work his -- his *hips* --

"Oh -- *don't* let him go, Bruce --"

Bruce growls and tightens his grip. "*Thank* you, Dick," and perhaps it shouldn't be easier to hold to the rhythm Dick is setting now that he's forcibly *stilled* Jason --

Jason sobs again --

Strikes at the headboard hard enough --

No, that crack was Bruce's own knuckles. Jason is strong, demanding --

Needy for *this* --

Bruce looks --

And he knows with all of himself that Dick would be holding Tim still if he had the strength for it, knows that this is *why* -- or part of why -- he'd ordered her to bend her leg back --

Even so, she is rocking into his thrusts, panting and crying out, gazing with love and need, pain and *sweetness* --

Dick *growls* --

And his rhythm becomes brutal, vicious --

*Bruce* pants -- "Dick --"

"*Do* it, Bruce. *My* rhythm!"

And Jason screams --

And screams louder when Bruce *does* match Dick's rhythm --

And reaches back to grip Bruce's hip so tightly; his hand is so *warm* --

His palm is slick with sweat and his grip will bruise as much as Bruce's will, and there's so much Bruce wants to say, wants --

He wants to be able to *express* himself in this moment, to share the pleasure that has been shared with him, to *offer* more than his desperate --

Desperate *grunts* --

And Dick and Tim scream *together* --

Dick's rhythm *randomizes* --

Bruce pants and *stares* -- and knows that he's staring at one of the men who live at the heart of Dick, of *Robin*. There is strain and pleasure and hunger, there is *brutality* --

There is --

Something like the *old* definitions of ecstasy, something religious and *frightening* --

And Tim wails --

Arches and *jerks* --

"She -- she is ejaculating, Jay --"

"I *know* that sound -- oh, fuck, *fuck* --"

"Jay, I -- *Dick*, let me -- let me turn Jason *over*, *please* --"

Dick groans and squeezes his eyes shut -- he opens them again immediately and nods, wordless and *obviously* starved for every moment of Tim's pleasure --

Bruce watches her slump, watches her *moved* by Dick's thrusts --

And then he can only watch Jason, stroke his tensing, flexing back as *he* thrusts --

No, he has *permission*. "*Jay* --"

"I heard -- I know -- please just do it *fast* --"

"*Yes*," Bruce says, pulling out as *steadily* as he can --

Jason cries out and beats at the headboard more --

And then reaches back to grip it once Bruce flips him --

Wraps his powerful legs around Bruce's *chest* -- "*Do* me!"

And Bruce gasps for the *ease* of slipping back in, for the sense that this is something which can be done with no effort, no *force* --

But Dick growls and makes the gesture for 'harder' --

And Bruce realizes that he'll never be able to use it -- or see it -- without thinking of Jason's wild scream --

His own *bellow* --

And the *vise* of pleasure driving him on as if his moment of gentleness was a mistake, an illusion, a dream --

No, *this* is the dream, this pleasure and the ability to meet Jason's beautiful eyes, so wide and *brave* as Bruce thrusts --

Braces himself above --

And Jason is so large for his age, so strong and so beautiful --

Bruce *thrusts* --

And realizes that he *is* speaking, that he's offering -- brief snatches of adoration for Jason --

Jason is shaking his *head* --

"*Please*, Jay!"

And the clench makes them both cry out, makes Jason squeeze his eyes shut and roll his head back and forth on the pillow --

Grunt and reach for Bruce's shoulders --

*Beat* at Bruce's shoulders --

"Yes -- oh -- you're so very --"

And Dick shouts and throws his head back --

Tenses hard enough that it seems *dangerous* --

He's still everywhere save his *raggedly* pumping hips --

"Oh, *yes*, big brother!"

And the realization that Dick is ejaculating --

That he has *found* his pleasure --

He's thrusting *faster* --

"Nnh -- *nnh* -- *your* turn, B!"

"I don't -- I don't wish --"

"Heh. *No* choice," Jason says, and *clutches* Bruce's chest with his thighs --

"*Oh* --"

And digs his heels against the small of Bruce's back --

"*Please* --"

"*Fuck* me!"

There is --

There is a need to rebel against that, to slow -- he can do nothing of the kind, and *that* is an ache, that --

Dick has covered Tim and is kissing her, nibbling at her lips and apparently paying no attention --

Bruce drops and kisses Jason hard, slipping partway out and taking his mouth --

His beautiful *mouth* --

And he can't stop himself from grinding, and he can't stop himself from slurring his gratitude, his need --

Jason kisses him *back*, cupping Bruce's face and turning the taking into lovemaking, soft and so *loving* --

Bruce shudders --

Bruce grinds *harder* because he must, because it makes Jason grunt into his mouth --

Grip his hair --

"B. Come in me."

"J-Jay --"

"Do it. Fill me up."

Bruce groans and shudders, shifts --

He shoves his hands under Jason's shoulders and grips him *that* way --

"Oh, *yeah*, B, *here*," and Jason's rocks his hips, grinds *with* him --

Bruce can't *stop* shuddering --

And he doesn't want to. Jason needs to know precisely what he does to him, precisely what he makes Bruce *feel* --

He's looking into Bruce's *eyes* --

He's smiling and *wincing* at once --

And Bruce has to kiss him again, has to fight against the onrush of color and power and *heat* to make it a good kiss, a *pleasurable* --

He must always *please* --

"Now there's *something*..." And Dick laughs from next to Bruce, *close* to Bruce --

Bruce can't stop kissing, he mustn't --

"Oh, yeah. *This*," he says, pushing two slick fingers *deep* --

Bruce *bellows* again --

Jason snickers breathlessly and grinds *faster*, clutches --

He is --

He is held *between* --

"Oh... mm. I always pictured your scrotum a little hairier than this, Bruce," Tim says from Bruce's other *side* -- "But I can't say I pictured it any *bigger*." And she squeezes hard --

So --

Bruce's thrusts have no rhythm, at all --

Bruce's mind is --

He can't see anything but Jason's *smile* --

He can't --

"*Brothers* --!"

"*Fuck*, yeah --"

Darkness --

The darkness is as explosive, as all-encompassing --

He has never been so *warm* --

And he has never, ever screamed quite like this. There is a part of him which only wants to blush and demur, but it has no power over this pleasure, this incredible rough *push* --

*Brothers* --

The --

*Pleasure* --

And there is a moment of nothing at all --

And then, abruptly, there is a moment where he's aware of himself as dead *weight*. That can't --

He pushes himself up on shaking arms --

His brothers are still --

And Jason is waggling his eyebrows and pointing at his powerfully erect penis.

Bruce licks his lips. "I want. I want to take you in my mouth."

"*I* got no objections to that. Big Bird?"

Dick *crooks* his fingers --

Bruce shouts and *spasms* --

"Mm... we'll revisit that. And no, I don't have any objections, since Bruce's performance was *nearly* perfect, and we all know how much he'd just *love* to improve, yes...?"

Jason snickers --

Tim hums --

And Bruce pants and licks his lips. "Please."

"Breathe," Dick says, but only waits for Bruce to gain a *modicum* of control before he begins pulling out. It's something to shiver for, to make promises to *himself* for --

And Jason is breathing deeply, too. Jason is *ready* for him --

But Bruce still needs to kiss him again, to suck his lips and examine his crooked tooth with his tongue --

Jason pushes him away -- "I don't have enough control for that, B."

That --

Tim hums again. "I think you just gave him a fantasy of kissing you until you came, Jay."

Jason opens his mouth --

His breathing *stutters* --

"Uh. Yeah, we can try that -- not now! Definitely not now."

Bruce stares at Jason's swollen lips. "If you're sure."

"Uh. Uh. Dick --"

Dick laughs softly. "It's a *school* day tomorrow, little wing."

Jason moans and bangs his head against the pillow. "Right. Right. Get out and *suck* me!"

Bruce nods and pulls out slowly and carefully, noting how smooth Jason's rectum *isn't* --

He will need time to *heal* from this, for all that his wince is mild. Bruce will remember that when next he wishes to lose himself this way --

As opposed to *this* way, with his lips pressed to Jason's thick and twitching penis --

His tongue --

Jason sits up, moans and shoves his hands in Bruce's hair, and Bruce is grateful for every wasteful, *dithery* moment that kept him from asking Alfred to cut it for him --

And more grateful for the rude and *needy* pulls --

"Jesus, Jesus, sorry, but --"

"Yes," Bruce says, and swallows Jason's penis, *holding* it there and noting the faint soreness doing this with Harvey had left behind. It's a counterpoint to the rest of the experience, to the sense of being both filled and *watched*. Perhaps --

Tim strokes Bruce's ear with her small, quick fingers. "Use your tongue more, Bruce."

Bruce shivers and obeys --

And Jason immediately begins to rock -- no, *thrust* -- "Oh -- oh, fuck, B, uh. I hope you weren't expecting. Uh. Uh. *Nn* --"

Bruce matches Jason's rhythm, which isn't fast enough to be challenging -- yet. He reaches for Jason's hips and strokes, studies -- yes. He presses lightly on the bruises he'd left --

"*Fuck* -- ohn --"

Dick sighs. "I really can't -- mm. Let me," he says, and moves behind Jason, cupping his pectoral muscles -- and twisting Jason's nipples --

"Oh, *yeah*, oh -- but -- I need --"

"Me, Jay...?" And Tim's voice -- no, her *manner* has become that of a much older and more experienced woman. There's a *vast* desire to *study* -- but not if it means the loss of Jason's penis.

"Uh. Uh. What do I *call* you, baby?"

For a moment the question is *confusing* --

But Dick laughs. "*Excellent* question, little wing. Are you gonna answer it, little sister?"

"Oh, Jesus, baby, that smile always makes me want your *teeth* on me somewhere --"

Bruce bares his own teeth --

"But that's good, too! Oh, yeah, *yeah* -- wait, no, I gotta *think* --"

Bruce covers his teeth once more --

And *grunts* for the feel of Tim clawing his back with her short nails --

"'Tinkerbelle...' ended in an 'e' originally."

"Uh. That's -- really?"

"Mm-hmm..."

"Fuck, Tink, just -- anything you want. Anything you *need* --"

"You, Jay. *Always*," Tim -- *Tinkerbelle* says with a laughing hum as she grips one of Jason's wrists and presses close. It --

It's too much not to stroke her shaved thigh --

And Tinkerbelle covers Bruce's hand and presses it there. "I have a fantasy, Jay."

"Y-yeah?"

"Oh, yes. You're bent over the pommel horse..."

"Oh -- Jesus, okay --"

"Your wrists are restrained..."

"Nuh --" Jason thrusts faster -- "Okay --"

"You're wearing... mm. A spreader bar."

Jason *bucks* --

Pants and moans and *stares* at Tinkerbelle -- "Please. Just -- I can't stop, I already --"

Dick twists his nipples in the other direction --

Jason cries *out* --

"I'm wearing a gaff, Jay. Nice... mm. Nice and *tight*."

Jason nods *mutely* --

"And I'm also wearing a great. Big. Strap-on."

Dick grunts --

Jason makes a high sound, animal and *lost* --

And Bruce can do nothing but grip her thigh and swallow Jason again, swallow him deep and *repeatedly* as he works his tongue --

As Jason sobs something which may or may *not* be "baby" and shudders --

*Yanks* Bruce's hair --

And now the thrusts are as brutal as his own had been, as wild and *sharp*. Bruce represses the urge to cough, *ignores* the urge to gag, and holds on, watching for every moment of pleasure in Jason's dazed, beautiful eyes --

And then watching the kiss he shares with Tinkerbelle -- no. He watches the kiss Tinkerbelle *bestows* on Jason, watches her smile and peck and nibble and *bite* as Jason shakes his head and begs, wordless and perfect.

After a minute, she pulls back --

Jason *lunges* for her --

And begins to ejaculate in the moment just *after* she shoves three fingers deep into his mouth and begins to thrust.

"Good boy," Dick says, and claws up over his nipples --

And Jason spasms in his throat -- and pulls back just enough to share his gamy, *strong* taste. It's impossible not to imagine Tim -- and Tinkerbelle, and Cardinal -- not having trained him to do just that.

It makes Bruce want to wallow even more than he already has and it makes him --

There is a happiness to this, this moment of sweat and semen and shudders and cries --

The intimacy of his hand on Tinkerbelle's thigh --

The lingering feel of Dick *inside* him --

All *through* him --

He is *happy*, and for once it doesn't seem as though he should apologize for it. The Bat --

The Bat is nothing he need *keep* with him -- not in this bed.

There are no tragedies he need prevent, here.

There is nothing save for this love, and all the ways it stretches beyond the bounds of this bed -- stretches to the Chisholm suburb and to Antarctica and to the bedroom just down the hall --

And what of the friends he'd made on the League?

Of everyone *else*?

Bruce pulls back when Jason pushes him and sits on his heels, giving himself a moment to just imagine, remember ghostly afterimages of a life *he'd* never lived.

It had been an *exemplary* life, and he will never forget that, but he will also strive not to make that Bruce's *mistakes*. He will open himself, and he will give, and he will live with love --

The kind of love which makes its own honor, as, perhaps, it must.

And when he looks up, his brothers are smiling at him expectantly. That --

Bruce smiles back, and moves close enough for touch.

Love.

*

"Uh. Isn't that one of those pillows old men have to put on their chairs when their asses go all haywire?"

Jason sighs and thinks about ignoring Steph so he can finish this report and also not *talk* about the state of his ass anymore than strictly necessary -- which is not at *all* --

And then he remembers that he's not an asshole, and also that Steph is Steph. He spins his chair -- gingerly -- and jerks his chin at her. "I think you can *maybe* guess what went on last night in my bedroom?"

Steph stops chewing on a candy bar Jason knows full well she'd had to smuggle in away from Alfred's freaking all-seeing eye --

"Hey, can I have -- "

"Fuck, no," she says -- mumbles -- and keeps chewing for a few seconds before swallows. "Was it *Bruce*?"

Jason grins. "Uh, huh. Following Big Bird's orders."

And Steph -- shifts a little where she's shitting on the console. And winces.

"Hey, no, he's fucking *fantastic* --"

"No, I figured, since you're even *sitting* like you wanna be freaking swaggering --"

"That's *mostly* the pain --"

She kicks him. "That's for being a liar, jerk."

Jason snickers. "Yeah, I deserve it. I got the fucking of my *life* last night. You gotta try it. You gotta try it *tonight*, because? He needs to get used to *good* women before his cock gets all hard for freaking Catwoman or Talia or somebody."

She makes a face --

"I *promise* --"

"No, it's not -- the other Bruce really went for *them*?"

"Not enough to get his cock wet, but -- pretty much, yeah. But back to your pussy --"

She snorts and smacks him -- "Oops," and she licks chocolate off her finger, then uses her wet finger to scrub Jason's face.

"You gonna let me get a taste?"

"Still no," she says, and *sucks* her finger, wiggling around a little bit and generally being fucking *evil*.

Jason sighs and turns to check on everyone else -- but then Steph winces again.

And *blushes*.

And Jason does, actually, have a *few* detective skills. Dormant and pathetic ones, but still -- "Heh. Was it Clark?"

She cuts him a sidelong look that's about half sex and half pissiness.

"Hey --"

"You coulda warned me that he's hung like freaking *Comet*."

Jason snorts hard --

Thinks about telling the stories *he* knows about Comet -- nah, he'll save those for some time when she's trying to be good and responsible and Jason's trying to break that into tiny little pieces. And anyway --

"It's not like he ever wears a fucking jock, babe --"

She waves a hand at him. "It's hard to *tell* by that. It's not like he's ever *completely* hard out there."

"Oh, he totally is, sometimes. Nobody ever *prints* those pictures, but I'm pretty fucking sure Jimmy Olsen has a spank file like *no* one else."

Her jaw drops, exposing half-chewed peanuts and a whole lot of chocolate.

"C'mon, at least *kiss* me --"

"Get your *own* candy, punk."

Jason blows out a breath and spins the chair back and forth --

And stops that immediately, because the pressure changes are just a little --

Steph snorts. "How are you even *patrolling* tonight?"

"I can *ignore* the pain when I'm doing *useful* shit."

"Like the reports *aren't* useful? I learned all kinds of shit this morning."

Jason blinks. "You cut?"

"I -- uh. Just the morning. I woke up late and came here for a while. Clark kinda. He didn't leave until, like *five*."

Heh. Heh heh. "Gonna tell me?"

She gives him another evil look. "Gonna beg me for candy again?"

"*Please*. I haven't had fake nougat in like six months --"

"Too fucking bad, rich boy."

"*Jesus*, Steph --"

"So he shows up," she says, and raises her eyebrows, gesturing three-sixty --

Jason takes a look --

Bruce is sparring with Tim -- they're going out together again tonight; J'onn is doing the finishing touches on Harvey; Dick is making the pommel horse his bitch in ways that makes Jason's cock wakey-wakey and Jason's ass --

Ow. "We're good, babe."

"Okay. He shows up, like, twenty damned *minutes* after you left. Just after I got out of the *shower*. He compliments me on the scent of my soap and conditioner, and just flat-out asks if he could brush my hair. I'm like, is that supposed to be foreplay or something?"

"And he just nodded and smiled at you, didn't he?"

Steph snickers. "Eggs-freaking-zactly."

"Wait, wait, lemme --" And Jason clears his throat, makes serious face --

And then makes mild-and-pervy face while folding his hands on his belly --

Steph snorts and kicks him again. "Freaking *yes*."

Jason waggles his eyebrows. "So *after* he stopped you from kicking *him* --

"It was a punch, but yeah. And he totally had my favorite brush in his other hand when I looked up again. And then he looked *hopeful*."

"God, I'm fucking asking for it, but I love that look. It makes him look, like, twenty years younger but *still* dirty."

"*Yes*! So I sat down at my desk chair, and got the brushing of my young, tender life --"

"'Tender'?"

"Fuck you. I swear, by the time he was done, my scalp felt warm and buzzy and, like, happier than it had ever freaking *been*."

"He totally massaged you there, too."

"I didn't feel -- oh." She snorts again. "He does that to you."

"Uh, hunh. While picking out the tangles in my hair like he's got OCD or some shit."

"You *could* just think of it as freaking TLC, jerkwad."

"Did *you*?"

"Hells, yeah," she says, and *inhales* the last bite of candy bar before handing him the wrapper and mumbling -- stickily --something.

Probably something about how he can lick it if he wants. Which -- it's not like he has *any* fucking pride. He licks.

After checking to make sure Alfred won't catch him at it.

They finish about the same time -- Steph spends some *serious* time licking her teeth and, like, *concentrating* on getting every last molecule of candy bar down her throat -- and Jason carefully tucks the wrapper beneath some other trash --

"You are so fucking whipped."

"Babe, if it takes more than the few days you're staying here for Alfred to whip *your* ass? I'll buy you a *case* of those bars."

She narrows her eyes. "You *hate* spending money."

"You're goddamned right I do. Still."

Steph looks toward the stairs suspiciously --

Thinks about it *obviously* --

Licks her teeth again -- "What do you get if he *does* break me?"

Jason grins. "Threesome with you and Tim."

"You can have -- uh." She blushes and gives him a shy look that's just --

"You are *so* fucking hot."

"And *you* are so freaking *easy*," she says, and kicks him *lightly*. "Done. If, you know, my lady parts don't make Tim freak."

And a part of Jason is *right* back in his bedroom after Bruce and Dick had left them alone to get sleep for school today, cuddled up close to his *sister* --

("You -- really don't mind.")

Tim's voice had been kind of -- right in the middle. Somewhere *between* the voice Jason got used to years ago and the voice he -- *she* -- uses when she's undercover as a woman most of the time. Jason had kissed her forehead.

("You're perfect the way -- *every* way -- you are."

"It doesn't *work* --"

"*You* work. For me -- and the rest of the family, too.")

And Tim had swallowed and shivered a little --

("I can do this."

"Fuck yeah, you can."

"I mean -- sometimes. Not all the time."

"Whenever --"

"I love you -- don't *crush* me.")

So Jason had just held on a *little* tighter, and kissed and kissed --

("I love you, too, baby. Always."

"And -- Steph. She -- just being there. She helped."

"Does she... uh. Know?")

She'd pressed a smile to Jason's shoulder.

("Soon.")

Now -- "How *much* was Tim texting you this morning?"

Steph gives him a wry look. "How much are we using Tim's name to avoid pronouns?"

"Heh. Okay, then. Sometimes it takes her a little time to, you know, *talk*."

"Uh, huh." And Steph pulls out three huge pieces of gum from her backpack -- "None of these are for you, by the way."

Jason snorts again. "Fucking *fine*."

She grins at him, warm and sweet and *happy*, and then starts chewing all three pieces. "Anyway, they're sugar-free. Too healthy for you."

"Fucking yeah, they are. Sugar is proof that the universe is a *good* place."

Steph looks thoughtful and a little distant for a while.

"What is it?"

"Just wondering... I mean, *are* there different things between this universe and Bruce's universe? Wouldn't there kind of have to be?"

"So far as *I've* heard so far, it's just that Harvey has a gunshot wound on his belly instead of a knife wound. No other differences have shown up."

"Isn't that... weird?"

Hunh. "Yeah, actually. Most of the time when the League or whoever deals with alternate universe stuff, the differences are *huge*. Like freaking *Deathwing* huge."

"Hunh?"

"Oh, the Titans ran into a universe where Dick was a psycho killer with a lot of damned cleavage," Jason says, and waves a hand.

"Uh. I thought it was the *women* who got cleavage-y when they went evil."

Jason shrugs. "Dick's got his own style? I got nothin'."

Steph nods. "Well, I guess we should be prepared if it turns out that Bruce is used to a world where ice gives good traction or the sky is green every other night or some shit?"

"Not a bad plan," Jason says, and punches her fist. "There's no way to know what questions to *ask*, but we can still be a little ready for the answers."

"Yep. So anyway."

Jason grins. "Yeah?"

"Apparently, I have 'a wonderful musk.'"

"Heh. You totally do -- wait, he was totally talking about your ass-musk, wasn't he."

She makes a face --

And then bites her lip and squirms a little. "I feel like I should kick *all* of you for not warning me about *that*, but... nuh."

"Uh, hunh."

"And..."

"Yeah?"

Steph sighs *dreamily*. "He'd totally gone down on me for, like, most of an *hour* first."

"That's allowed?"

Steph gives him a look designed to make his *sac* drop off, but --

"Seriously, babe, this is an *important question*."

"Yes, you can fucking well go down on me forever!"

"Nice --"

"Unless I say you totally can't."

"That's fair --"

"And -- I'll probably say that a lot," Steph says, and snorts. "I mean -- I'm betting you can't do most of the things Clark can do with his tongue."

"No, I can't, but I *promise* I'm --"

She waves him off. "*Anyway*. I -- had totally never been rimmed before," and her expression is kind of --

Tim would call it 'quirked.' Jason just thinks she looks like someone just tickled her pussy. "It's serious."

"*Yes*. Also -- also, I don't know if I *want* to like it that much --"

And then Clark is right there with a bouquet of pretty little purple flowers and a *big* smile --

"Jesus!"

"Only to some," Clark says, and nudges the flowers toward her.

"Um. I don't -- have a vase?"

And then Clark is holding the flowers in a vase. It's kind of plain -- it's just white -- but it's got a pretty shape to it. And he's smiling again. Hopefully.

Steph is just kind of staring --

Jason snickers --

"Hem. Perhaps I'll just --"

Breeze --

"-- put them in your room," Clark says, and dusts his hands off despite the fact that they look perfectly clean.

He probably washed them in a mountain stream somewhere. "Hey, Chester."

Clark pinches his cheeks. "And how are *you* today, you adorable little scamp?"

Jason stares.

Clark gives him a *mean* look -- and then turns back to Stephanie, who is still staring. She's got her mouth open now, though. Clark closes it for her. "Stephanie --"

"Uh. You should totally call me Steph. I mean. Now that you know more about my ass than I do."

Clark hums. "Oh -- thank you very much --"

"You're here to try to convince me there's nothing weird about rimming."

"Well... yes --"

"It's not gonna work."

"But --"

"It's not. Gonna. Work."

Clark frowns like a goddamned sad clown.

Jason moves to kick him --

And Clark catches him by the ankle and wags a fucking *finger* at him. "Now, now, son, don't make me have to put you in a corner."

"Uh."

Another mean look, and then he turns back to Steph --

"You're totally not helping your case."

"Ah -- hm --"

"I mean, you're not hurting it, either -- Jay *deserves* this shit -- but you're not helping."

Clark lifts Steph's hand gently and kisses her scarred-up knuckles --

"Ooh, I like that."

"I'm glad," he says, and kisses them back the other direction --

And forward --

He *sucks* on her middle knuckle --

And Steph gets that kind of heavy-lidded look that makes Jason want to see her without her mask at least once every day, whether or not *he's* the one getting that look.

Especially since watching Clark get that look boils down to watching Clark tent his poor jockeys a little --

A little more --

A *lot* more --

His cock twitches *hard* --

And Steph notices the movement out of the corner of her eye, looks down -- and her jaw drops again. "What the *fuck*, Clark, you just *got* here!"

Clark smiles. "You've always seemed like a young woman with little patience for... ah... wasted time?"

Steph snorts and blushes *hard*, taking her hand back and patting Clark's cock a little. "Not right *now*."

"If you're quite sure --"

"Hey, she was talking to *me* --"

"Jason," Clark says, planting his fists on his hips and shaking his head sadly. "Honestly, you *know* that sharing means caring."

Jason coughs a laugh -- "I'm totally gonna keep calling you a Chester."

"Is that so."

"Uh, hunh," and Jason swings his chair back and forth as obnoxiously as his ass will let him --

And Clark flares his nostrils just like he can *smell* that pain --

And his eyes flare *red* --

Heh. Jason sticks his thumb in his mouth, makes his eyes wide, and bats his lashes a little.

"Oh. I see," Clark says, and moves just a *little* closer --

"*Time*," Steph says, and signals it like a football ref trying to get the attention of a couple of linebackers with more steroids in their systems than, like, mucus.

Jason pops his thumb out.

Clark looks *innocent* --

And Steph looks at them both like they're fucking nuts, which -- they are. So.

"We'll be good, babe."

"*Will* you?" And she glares at Clark --

Who adjusts an invisible tie. "If you'd like? Of course, there are many ways to *be* good. Many... ah... many *acts* one can perform --"

"I didn't say I wouldn't *let* you rim me out again, you freak!"

"Oh... oh?"

"But it's still fucking *weird*!"

"It's truly --"

Steph makes a fist.

"Hmm. Yes, I believe I see your point," Clark says, and kisses her thumbnail. "I would be honored to introduce you to any number of weird things --"

"With your *dick*?"

They all look at it.

It twitches --

And *Clark* pats it like it's a pet or something before looking up with another smile. "While my penis hopes for rather more of your company than what it received last night --"

Steph snorts --

"-- it understands that it's only one part of me --"

"Wait, how many brains *do* you have?"

Clark blinks. "Truly, just... just the one --"

"Are you *sure*?"

"Yes...? Yes, I'm sure."

Steph nods thoughtfully. "Okay, just checking. Let me finish telling Jay what you did to me last night."

"Oh, do you want to make him jealous?" And that hopeful look is *right* back.

Steph grins. "I *want* to make sure he invites us to *all* the orgies."

Clark sighs happily. "Yes, that's a wonderful cause. If you'll both excuse me --" And he kisses Steph's cheek and *licks* Jason's still-slick thumb -- "I'll leave you to it."

"Uh, hunh."

"Bye, Chester." And Jason waggles his eyebrows --

And the world moves --

And then Jason hears himself *squawking*, because Clark had just *spanked* him --

And put him back on the little doughnut perfectly --

And disappeared. Right.

Jason snickers and shakes his head before turning back to Steph. "Was that actually slow enough for you to see him doing that?"

"He totally winked at me first," Steph says, and kicks her legs a little. "You loved it."

"Yes, I fucking loved it, but *still* --"

She kicks him. "Buy me an eggplant paddle."

Jason grunts. "Uh?"

She grins at him.

"Did I mention that I love you, yet? 'cause I really fucking do --"

"Slut. So *anyway*."

"I'm listening!"

"I made the mistake of telling him that I'd only really fucked in a couple of positions before."

"Oh -- damn."

"Yep. I now own a copy of the Kama freaking *Sutra* -- which is staying in *this* house, thank you very much --"

Jason snickers --

"And also my thighs still feel like pudding, a little."

"Are *you* good for patrol?"

"Oh, yeah. He was totally petting me and rubbing me and *massaging* me *while* he was fucking me so hard my throat got sore."

"*Gotta* fucking love that. When are you gonna let him take you to the Fortress?"

"How do you know he -- never mind."

"Heh."

"I -- don't know? I mean, I think I kinda want company for that."

"I will *totally* go with you, babe. He's got toys there like you wouldn't fucking *believe*."

"Like... uh. No, I don't know," she says, and raises her dark blonde eyebrows.

"Well, start with the fact that the Fortress itself -- the walls, the floors, the ceilings, and everything else -- is alive."

Steph shivers. "Yeah, he said, but --"

"*But* -- anytime he wants? Clark can reach in and grab a handful of that stuff, shape it anyway he wants -- or have the Fortress shape it -- and that *part* will still be alive and fucking *mobile* when he's done."

"Oh... fuck."

"Uh, hunh," and Jason throws his legs up on the console --

His eyes cross --

He puts his legs back down.

And Steph snorts, and giggles, and then just points at him and cackles.

"Oh, yeah? How's your *pussy* doing?"

She blushes and bites her lip on a cough. "Uh. Happy I don't sit on it? Oh my *God*, the ride here was *ridiculous*, Jay."

"Heh. I'll fucking bet."

"Every bump. Every pothole. Every fucking *branch* in the *road* because you people live out in the fucking *woods* --"

"Was like getting fucked all over again?"

"God there was one point..."

"Tell me."

Steph grins and kicks her legs a little more. "Okay, so I'm on my side, right?"

"Uh, hunh. Naked?"

"*So* naked. I was happy, because when he had me on my hands and knees, my tits were just flopping all over the place --"

"*Unh* --"

"No, wait, that's not the good part!"

"But I really *like* your tits, babe --"

"And they like you, you freaking caveman, but *listen*," she says, and kicks his thigh.

"Okay, okay --"

"Okay, I'm on my side, and so my tits are finally not *moving* and I'm thinking I'll get a minute to figure out if they actually *hurt* from all that swinging."

"But no."

"Really freaking not, cause he pushes in just -- steady and *hot* and *not freaking slow* --"

"Jesus, I love that --"

"*Yes*. Even though it made me sound like a drunk guy trying to sing a *scale* or something --"

Jason does an impression of the *determinedly* homeless former opera singer who hangs out in the Pinktown subway stations --

And Steph cackles. "*Yes*. Only I'm pretty sure I sounded more like a sorority slut than a cow."

Jason snickers. "Gotcha. More?"

"Yeah, so I'm making all kinds of noise, and I'm trying to get a *grip* on my pillow so I can shove about half of it down my throat --"

"Oh, he *never* lets you do that --"

"And this is why you have to *warn* me!"

"Heh heh. Sorry?"

"Asshole. *Anyway*, the next thing I know, my leg is in the *air* and my cooch is all *cool* from how *wet* I was and how warm my room really *wasn't*, and I break out all over in goosebumps. And then?"

"Yeah?"

"He *breathes* on me. From, like, a *distance*. And it's *warm*."

"Oh -- damn."

"*Yes*. I thought he could only do that with *cold* air!"

Jason shrugs. "He's fucking *super*."

Steph sighs and kicks her legs more. "Yeah. *Really* yeah, because I broke out in even *more* goosebumps from how *good* it was, and I *forgot* I was trying to get the pillow, and he vibrates his finger on my *clit* -- is that good on the head of your dick?"

"It's *fantastic*."

Steph nods thoughtfully. "I *have* vibes."

"Like -- more than one?"

Steph waggles *her* eyebrows.

"Heh. *Nice*."

"I didn't *just* use my lawn-mowing money for armor and spandex."

"I hear you, I hear you. Did he get you off like that?"

"*Twice*. And then I passed *out*. And then he woke me up with his tongue back in my *ass*, and my pussy started *crying*, because it was like 'fuck yes!' but also like 'no no nooo!' You know?"

"Totally. He tried to convince you to take it up the ass?"

Steph sighs. "He came *real* close to *succeeding* with that, because I was all *quivery* at that point and just, you know, *soft*."

Jason licks his lips.

Steph grins at him. "You know you're not getting any until after we train, right?"

"I'm getting some? I mean -- whatever you say, babe."

"Well, you're not getting into the seriously *puffy* Promised Land --"

"Can I look at it? You know... look?"

She snorts. "Yes, you can freaking *look* at it. But if you touch it even a little, I e-mail pictures of your asshole to the Eston football team."

"Tink already did that last year."

"He -- *why*?"

"He totally put a timer on the site with all the pictures with a script that would -- eventually -- tell them how gay they were for looking."

Steph stares at him.

Jason shrugs.

"Was it *labeled*?"

"Heh heh. Communal showers, babe. I got some *interesting* fucking looks for a while."

"And you *didn't* kick Tink's ass?"

"Hey, it's important to *encourage* her hobbies, Steph."

"Are you her boyfriend or her *mom*?"

Jason grins and buffs his nails on his shirt. "I am her *incredibly* awesome big brother. And -- heh. I gotta say -- I was kinda flattered that he went with my ass instead of Dick's."

Steph splutters and kicks him *repeatedly* --

So maybe he gets up and wrestles her off the console --

And onto the mats --

And into a fucking *great* kiss --

He can still taste nougat --

And then Bruce is right there picking him up and *carrying* him -- by the neck and the waistband of his *shorts* -- back to the console.

"Jesus fucking *Christ*, B!"

"I'm terribly sorry," he says, and *arranges* Jason on the chair with the doughnut. "Dick was insistent."

Jason glares at him --

Looks *mournfully* over at Steph -- who's getting dragged by her ponytail over to the gymnastics equipment by Dick --

And then goes back to glaring at Bruce. "You don't have to take his orders *forever*!"

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him.

"Aw, *what*?"

"Were *you* planning to stop doing that anytime soon, Jay...?"

"Maybe!"

Bruce raises his eyebrow higher.

"C'mon, she had *nougat* in her mouth!"

Bruce blinks. "Have you suggested that Alfred prepare --"

"*Yes*. But he makes it all *good*."

"And... that's not... correct?"

"*No*, it's not correct. It makes me feel *classy*, and that's not *right*."

"Hm." And Bruce raises his other eyebrow.

"Ah, fuck you," and Jason tags out --

Gets his wrist *caught* --

Held --

*Squeezed* --

"Unh. Okay, you got my attention."

Bruce smiles, and it looks happy more than it looks horny, and yeah, okay, he can work.

Jason sighs and twists his wrist free, then turns back to the console --

And Bruce is still standing right there.

Just --

Standing.

Jason snorts. "Okay, you're sucking out all the air again."

"I'm sorry --"

"*Ask*."

Bruce strokes the back of Jason's neck slightly --

And Jason flushes and squirms a little --

And *regrets* that when he hears himself make a yeeping sound. Just --

"That was too light."

"Yeah, B. Sorry --"

"No, I'm --"

"*Ask*."

"Will. Will Stephanie stay?"

"For --" Jason turns back around. "You mean for more than just the next few days?"

Bruce nods and looks *into* him --

And Jason sighs. "I want her to. Tim and Alfred want her to. *Dick* wants her to. And I think... I think if her mom falls off the wagon again? She will. But while she's clean --"

"She will remain loyal. Yes, I see," Bruce says, and nods thoughtfully. "Dick told me much last night about her mother's... difficulties."

"Yeah, and Tim told *me* a lot about how you are about parents. Which -- heh. I'm kinda surprised you're pushing for Steph to live here."

"I'm not -- I would never pressure --"

"And also you're giving her space and time to come to *you*, which is a great fucking tactic with her."

Bruce nods. "I thought it would be --"

"You're still pushing."

Bruce closes his eyes for a moment -- but he smiles and opens them. "Is this, finally, what it will take to be admonished for greed?"

Jason grins. "Not even a little. *We all want her here*. But -- I respect her wanting to stick it out, even if the others don't. My mom was fucked-up in a lot of ways, but she damned well loved me when no one else in the *world* did, and she did the best she could. I don't think Mrs. Brown did the best *she* could -- by a long road -- but a lot of people could and would say the same thing about my mom. So." Jason shrugs.

Bruce inclines his head. "Thank you for your perspective."

"It helped?"

Bruce smiles and strokes Jason's cheek -- firmly. "Yes. I don't think I require a voice in my mind in order to... control myself."

"Heh. Not *too* much control, now --"

"No. Definitely not," Bruce says, and *moves* --

But the kiss is soft and only lands at the *corner* of his mouth.

Jason makes it better, nice and wet and a *little* hard --

Not hard enough to make him need to roll around on the mats with *Bruce* --

Bruce hums and pulls back. "Thank you again."

"Heh. You're welcome. What's next for you today?"

"Teaching and learning from Dick. And then, perhaps, time with Harvey at my side."

"He's -- I'm gonna miss him."

Bruce smiles ruefully and stands straight. "I have begun to study a great deal of theoretical physics. I will not -- I do not accept that his loss will be forever."

*Shit* -- "Hey --"

"Oh -- Jay. I only meant -- if there could be *visits* --"

"That's -- dangerous?"

"It will not be by the time I begin experimenting with it. I promise you," Bruce says, and it's a *vow* in his eyes, and -- yeah.

Jason offers his own rueful smile. "I -- I can go with that."

Bruce strokes his cheek again. "Beautiful. Beautiful *brother*. I will not disdain the gifts you have given me."

Jason shivers. "And when you talk like that..."

"Yes?"

"You kinda make me need to stick my cock in your mouth, B."

Bruce hums. "Because my mouth is too... classy?"

"*Exactly*. Gotta dirty you up a little bit, brother."

"Then I suppose I shall have to endeavor to be correct in my speech --"

"Now you're just faking it."

Bruce *laughs* --

And Jason has to grin for it. "Go make Dick even more ridiculously hardcore. And maybe save a little training up for *me* tonight."

Bruce inclines his head. "As you say." And he goes.

Jason checks --

Steph is on the uneven bars, Tim is working the heavy bag the way he almost never *does*, J'onn and Harvey are talking -- just talking -- at the conference table, and Dick is dancing fucking *belligerently* on the mats --

Yeah. He can work. He can *absolutely* work --

And that's what he does.

By the time he's done with the reports, he's thinking a little about food --

And a lot about the tall, lanky, pointy-chinned blond guy chilling in Dick's chair with his spindly fingers folded together on his belly.

I'm thinking about you, as well.

Jason grins and tries to push it at J'onn a little --

And J'onn pushes the feel of being *hugged* -- all over -- right back at him. And then fills Jason's mind with an image of two little Martians sitting on a tiled-looking floor the color of bone --

That color was much less distressing on Mars.

Heh, I'll bet. And -- those are your kids?

Yes. Tiq, and the slightly taller kid is lit with some kind of inner light for a moment. It was impossible to get him to focus on his work, as opposed to on the various rough games he played in the wastes with other local children. Ma'ena said she was just like him at that age. And then the light glows from the other kid -- P'inn. She would sit still only for stories. Dark stories, gentle stories, funny stories... it did not matter. She taught herself to read at only three cycles, because, as she said, we did not have *enough* stories for her.

Aw, man, awesome --

And then Jason is looking at *himself*, and he's... saying something to the kids. No, he's telling a story, because his hands are moving --

Okay, he's telling a *violent* story, going by the *way* his hands are moving. That -- you think they would've liked me.

Very much. Though Tiq would have insisted on wrestling with you.

Hey, as long as he kept the spikes out of things, I could've gone for that.

Martians did not develop the spikes until they reached sexual maturity, Jason.

... oh. Uh. Sorry for the disturbing image?

J'onn hums and bubbles Jason along a little -- You are forgiven.

So... uh. I don't actually want to bring back bad memories --

I was deep in the wastes with my hunter squad when I received word that the plague had taken my family entirely. It was early enough in the course of the plague that there were people to hold the ceremonies for them, and ritually -- and hygienically -- burn the bodies. I took their ashes with me into the stasis coffin.

I -- damn. I'm --

It is all right, I assure you. While I did not have time to grieve for them before I went into stasis...

You've been out of stasis for a lot of years. Yeah, I hear you. Still.

I only wished to share. I promise you.

Aw, man, don't Bruce at me --

Another bubbly little laugh. You're thinking of him quite deeply.

I... am?

Hmm. It would, perhaps, be more accurate to say that you are *feeling* about him. Many humans are capable of that sort of... splitting.

I try *not* to be.

There is not a single human vigilante who is not capable of it, Jason. Not the ones who survive.

Uh -- heh. Okay, then, I'll stop whining. And Jason makes the avatar-thingy of himself stand up --Mind if I...?

Not at all.

Jason walks them away from the children, through a door which was absolutely designed for a species of really thin and really *tall* people --

And into the little apartment he'd shared with his mother. The smell of other people's cooking comes through the doors and the walls and the windows -- lots of stuff with garlic, onions, and recao, lots of *fried* stuff -- but the place is as clean as his mother could make it with Jason constantly messing things up again.

The boy he used to be is playing gin rummy with his mother, who is only a *little* too thin, and doesn't have any *visible* sores.

She's tired around the eyes, and her brown hair is pulled up into a bouncy little ponytail of the kind she'd never actually go out to *work* in --

The johns mostly go for long hair hanging *down* --

And there's a weight, an extra *presence* that doesn't make sense until Jason puts J'onn on the couch next to his mother, who immediately stops playing and asks excited questions and makes *Jason* excited and --

Yeah. J'onn would be right there, all calm and mellow and good --

And she would be able to *feel* that --

She'd be so happy that Jason had a *friend* --

Perhaps if I appeared somewhat younger.

Jason snickers and grows himself up until the boy on the rickety orange refugee-from-the-70s chair is him. Yeah, probably. Still. She loved the heroes. *Mostly* the women, but just -- everyone who did things. Did *good* things, you know?

Did you want to be a hero when you were a boy?

Doesn't every kid? At least a little?

Yes and no. Very few children who reach an age at which they can understand what vigilantism truly entails want that life for themselves.

Heh, okay, true. But it wasn't the blood and guts and nightmares that made me stop wanting it.

The J'onn on the couch flares his eyes a little --

Yeah, go ahead and look, and Jason makes his mother walk into the bedroom where she can rest a little and joins J'onn on the battered old couch.

A part of Jason is aware that they're really just sitting in two of the three -- soon to be five, maybe? -- chairs in front of the console, that the pricks he feels in his scalp here aren't as real as the ones out *there* --

Reality is fluid within the mind.

Yeah, that.

So Jason closes his eyes --

And closes his eyes --

And waits to see what J'onn will --

No.

No?

I will not fill your mind with memories of yourself as someone... soiled.

I -- heh. The memories will still be there.

Would your mother have wished you to think of yourself that way?

Of course not. And you know I mostly don't these days --

There is a pain within you that has not healed, Jason.

I know, I know. I just --

You keep it because you believe it helps to connect you to your past.

Well -- yeah --

You do not require it.

J'onn --

And then they just *are* in his mother's bedroom, and he's bringing her breakfast in bed on a cookie sheet --

And he's sponging her forehead when the fevers got too bad --

And he's crying as quietly as he can because even he can tell that she's not gonna make it, not gonna get *better* --

And he's in the park with her playing catch with a huge sparkly pink ball --

And he's hiding under the kitchen table because one of her pimps is yelling, yelling so much, and maybe if he got a weapon --

And he's rolling his eyes at his father's bullshit --

And she's teaching him blackjack --

War --

Old Maid --

A really *crappy* version of poker --

And he's warm in her arms --

And he's warm in her arms --

And he's *boiling* under the covers with her, because she was so afraid that he'd freeze with the heat off that she'd covered him with everything in the house that could be *used* as a cover, including the curtains, the psychedelic wall-hangings her friend Janine kept giving her, and every coat she'd ever *owned* --

J'onn --

You were never too soiled.

Seriously, J'onn --

You could never *be* too soiled.

Okay, I'm seeing how you and Bruce could get along --

Jason.

Oh -- Jesus, J'onn, is this you 'forcing the issue?'

No.

I -- good --

But I wish to do so. I wish to do so very badly.

Jason shivers inside and out. It's not -- it's not taking over my life or anything --

If you would allow it --

I want it. I want the pain.

You are more than your memories of hurt --

I *know* that. And you can feel that. Can't you?

Jason... I know, now, that there are times when you do not know that at all.

I. Oh.

Yes.

And -- he can see it. He can see himself watching Dick be perfect and knowing that it's not him, that it's only him because Dick was *lonely* and *unsure* --

He can see himself watching Tim and wondering when he'll realize how special he is --

How perfect *she* is --

How much she doesn't *need* him --

And there's Kuh-Superboy in his head, more dangerous than life and twice as fucking *goofy* --

And there's the knot of fear *behind* the images of the guy in his head --

The sense --

Not that he'll take Tim *away* from him, but that he'll be the one Tim will go to when it's time for her to leave him --

Because Superboy has never been anything but clean.

Well -- shit.

You hid this well.

I... don't have clue one what to say.

Let me --

No. Just -- not that, okay? And Jason pushes himself back out into the world and tugs on J'onn's wrist until those claws are out of his head and he can roll his head on his neck. "I gotta go talk to him, J'onn."

J'onn shifts to the big, green wrestler form. "You may find it easier to do so after --"

"I don't want it to be easier, though. Maybe -- maybe after? But I have to be real with the guy, and -- it has to be now."

J'onn inclines his head. "As you will. Please remember that I am available to you."

Jason grins, knowing it's crooked on his face, knowing that it's a lot fucking older than it maybe *should* be, knowing it *hurts* --

"Even your pain is beautiful to me, Jason."

"*Thank* you, *Bruce*. Seriously, watch that."

J'onn hums deep enough to kind of vibrate Jason's chest a little, and stands. "As soon as you stop responding to it... positively," and J'onn looks down --

And Jason's cock is just hard enough to show. Fucking right. Jason thinks about trying to will it back down --

And remembers that he's actually himself. He stands, too, and hugs J'onn hard. "I'll remember everything."

J'onn kisses Jason's forehead with his just-a-little-too-hard-and-a-*lot*-too-smooth lips. "Until we meet again," he says, and steps back --

And flies up and up until he phases through the ceiling.

Jason takes a deep breath and looks around --

Dick is looking at him just like he knows *exactly* how right Jason isn't right now.

Jason gestures 'later' and heads over to join Tim at the strike-dummies.

Tim looks up while Jason is still twenty feet away --

Frowns too *much* --

Jason jogs close. "It's okay --"

"It really isn't. The question is *why* --"

"J'onn asked me a question that had -- *has* -- kind of a fucked-up answer."

Tim frowns even harder and reaches up to rub Jason's chest a little in that way where he -- and Jason's almost *sure* that his being this fucked-up is bringing out the boy in Tim, and he doesn't want to *deal* with that, but he will *any*-fucking-way -- where he's really marking Jason out for *serious* examination. The kind with hot lights and rubber hoses.

He --

"Jay, what *is* it?"

"I... fuck, no, I'll just spit it out. I'm not jealous of Superboy --"

"I *know* that. You never *should* be --"

"Wait. Okay?"

Tim searches him and nods.

"I'm not *just* jealous of him. I'm not afraid of losing you --"

Tim opens his mouth --

Jason holds up a hand. "I *know* I'm gonna lose you one day, okay? I know it down *deep* --"

"*Jay*!"

"And it's not even -- *most* of me knows that it's bullshit. There's just a little knot in me -- this hard fucking *knot* -- that tells me I'm not good enough. Not for you, not for Dick, not for this *life*. It's --" Jason squeezes his eyes shut and shakes himself like a dog. "It's the part of me that went so hard for Bruce, because I knew *he* was a fuck-up, and could be just -- someone I wouldn't lose. I'm never afraid of losing *Clark*, either, you know?"

"Tell me to how to *fix* it!"

"You can't, baby --"

"*No*, Jay," and Tim is clawing at him a little, this close to *beating* on him, and Jason just --

He pulls Tim close and hugs him, holds him -- "I'm gonna fix it."

"What are you going to *do*?"

"I'm gonna take a good, hard look at myself, and the parts of me that are just -- no good --"

"*Damn* it, Jay --"

"The parts of me that *think* I'm no good -- God, I'll just -- the night I boosted Dick's tires?" And Jason pushes Tim back a little so he can meet his eyes. "This -- it's all coming back, you know? Or maybe I mean it's coming *up*, because I fucking well *hid* this shit."

Tim's nod is *troubled*, but -- "I'm listening."

"Okay, I -- here goes," Jason says, and smiles ruefully. "I'd spent the whole damned night -- almost -- thinking about using my knife on the next john who looked rich enough. Maybe just threatening him, maybe slicing him up but good. Whether or *not* he was an asshole. Just -- just for the money, you know? And I was thinking -- I wouldn't do it a *lot*. Whores that do that shit a lot always get *caught* sooner or later. But I was gonna do it *that* night, and I just -- Dick *saved* me from that life, but he also saved me from *myself*."

Tim stares at him for a long moment, dark and just --

It's the *unnerving* stare, because it means that a good chunk of Tim is just thinking about keeping Jason in his sight-lines while he plans his *attack*. "Baby --"

"You think you're not good 'enough'."

"I -- yeah. But only *sometimes* --"

"Often enough for it to be --" Tim steps back and studies him harder. "You've kept it from me. You -- but not in the beginning. You kept me at a distance, then."

"I didn't want to *hurt* you --"

"Or get me dirty, Jay?" Tim raises an eyebrow and just -- glares at him.

"Tim --"

"It was when you could see I needed you that you stopped holding back. When you could see that, no matter what, the distance was hurting me more than anything you could do. Right?"

Jason opens his mouth --

"Wait. No. It was when you could see that the distance was hurting me more than anything you could do right *then*."

Jason blows out a breath. "I love you."

Tim nods once. "Love, when it's real and at least moderately healthy, means a desire to, among other things, protect the loved one from the worst of one's neuroses."

"Yes --"

"You've never let me do that, Jay. You pointed out -- quite rightly -- that it hurts *us* when I'm hurting and not sharing it with you."

Jason smiles ruefully. "Sometimes I'm not an idiot?"

Tim narrows his eyes --

"You're angry at me."

"*Yes*."

Jason nods -- "I'm sorry."

"What are you going to *do* about it?"

"*Fix* it --"

"Wrong answer."

"I --" Jason blinks. "What? Oh -- oh, you're gonna make me... put all of this on you... and I totally get why. And understand why." Jason blows out a breath. "Okay. Okay, I can see it."

"Can you?"

"Yeah, I can --"

"Are you going to --" And then there's a different frown on Tim's face, something -- something that makes him look *down*.

"Hey, no, *you* haven't done anything wrong --"

"I've made you *work* to help me with my problems," Tim says, and his voice is thick. "And I just. I never realized how much it would hurt to be in the same position."

"Jesus, baby --"

Tim hugs him hard, clutches at him a little --

"I'm here, I'm here and I won't --"

"*Jay*," and Tim's voice is *accusing* --

And that's when Jason realizes that he's not hugging *back*. Jesus fucking --

Jason wraps his arms around Tim and forces himself to just push *past* everything until he can hold on, pull him closer, his *brother* -- "I love you, I love you so much, I *swear* --"

"I shouldn't. I shouldn't believe you *more* now," Tim says, and even his *laughter* is thick, heavy with *tears* --

But it's still pretty funny. "We -- uh. We might be a little fucked-up, baby."

Tim snorts and digs his nails in against Jason's back. "We -- *I'm* going to do better," he says, and pulls back. "I'll tell you everything, Jay. I *promise*," and he searches Jason a little --

A *lot* -- and Jason nods. "Everything, yeah. I know -- *most* of me knows we can take it --"

"I'll never leave you," Tim says, slow and serious and just -- *willing* Jason to believe --

And Tim's got willpower like no one fucking else.

Jason nods and leans in, nuzzling more than kissing, holding on more than gripping -- no. He *grips*, and Tim makes a soft sound and kisses him, pushes up on his toes and kisses him harder --

And Jason only breaks the kisses to tell Tim he loves him, wants him -- wait. "I want the girl, too. I'm not -- you don't have to change *anything* for me --"

"I need to make you feel *comfortable* --"

"Then just give me all of you, baby. I figured out last night that I was getting all fucked-up because things were changing so fast --"

"*Yes* --"

"But that's all done, okay?"

Tim pulls back with a frown --

"I promise, baby. I just -- I was blaming Bruce for everything going crazy around here --"

"That's *fair* --"

"He just gave us little pushes toward where we were heading *anyway*," Jason says, and smiles. "And you know it, because I know *you* aren't blaming him for anything anymore."

"I don't --"

"Want me to blame myself. I *know*, okay? I'm not a complete fuck-up --"

Tim strikes his *kidney* --

"Ow, *Jesus*, baby, *ow* --"

"You *deserved* that --"

"You *really* did, little wing," *Dick* says, and grabs Jason by the hair, yanking until they're looking at each other.

"Uh. Hi?"

"I caught -- some of that," and Dick is frowning. "Be my brain here. What do you need?"

"I --"

"*My* brain," and Dick is staring *into* him, and --

Yeah. No way to fuck around with that. No way *possible*. Jason licks his lips. "I need to talk more about my past. How it made me feel, not just what actually happened."

Dick nods. "I let you skate past that too much."

"Dick --"

"You made it easy, little wing," and Dick smiles wryly. "Always sharing just *enough* to make it seem like it was everything. Right?"

Jason -- blushes. "Uh. I really didn't --"

"Want me to think you were too fucked-up for this life? I get it," Dick says. "I really do. Still --" And Dick lets go of Jason's hair, steps *back* --

And that is absolutely Steph *jabbing* his other kidney. He'd know those knuckles *anywhere* at this point --

"Stop fucking up!"

Jason winces and tries to stretch his back a little, tries to -- no, fuck it, he's gonna hurt right now, and that's the way it works. He jerks his chin at Tim. "How *much* of what you were doing was designed to distract me?"

*Tink* smiles at him --

And then holds *her* body just a little differently, just enough to *imply* a little arch for her little breasts, a curve for her hip --

"Maybe... about thirty-two percent."

And Jason is now horny enough to be *confused* for a while -- way more than a fucking moment --

And then Steph snorts and *grinds* her knuckles in a little --

"Fuck, I'm listening!"

"You can be a jerk, but you can't be a *stupid* jerk, asshole," Steph says, and then moves around to Jason's side. Her ponytail is a little off-center, she's flushed from how *hard* she's been working out, and she smells like the kind of sweat that just *needs* to be licked off *slowly* --

And then Dick bites his *ear* -- "Little wing."

"Uh. Yeah?"

"We're not about to distract you with sex."

"*Damn* -- I mean --"

Dick laughs softly and pushes a hand between Jason's and Tim's bodies until he can scratch at Jason's abs through his shirt a little. "Don't think I'm not tempted... and you can *feel* how tempted Tim is."

"Yeah. Yeah --"

"And we can *all* smell how tempted *Steph* is --"

"Oh -- fuck *all* of you!"

Dick pulls away from Jason's ear to grin at Steph. "Promise...?"

Steph *blushes*, and that --

"Can I sniff you? Just, you know --"

"Oh -- for fuck's sake," and Steph knocks Dick's hand out of Jason's hair and replaces it with hers, yanking him in for a hard kiss with a lot of biting. She doesn't close her eyes, and so he doesn't *either* --

And he can see her glaring at him --

And glaring a little less --

And *softening* for him --

And -- yeah. Jason closes his eyes and makes it a *good* kiss, because he needs this, all of them -- wait. He kisses her a few more times, just a little *quiet* and affectionate --

She pulls back and grins at him *wryly*. "Bruce is upstairs with Harvey."

Jason blinks -- "Okay, so I'm obvious --"

"You want your family around you," Tim says, and scratches Jason's back a little. "I think that's a good sign."

Jason nods --

"Unless, of course, you *are* trying to get us all to hide from the issues with sex," Dick says, and strokes down to *grip* Jason through his jock. "Which we're not doing."

"Uh. Are you *sure*?"

Dick laughs again and kisses Jason's cheek before stepping back and gesturing 'box.'

They get into formation smooth and easy -- and Dick looks all of them over with a smile. "Bruce -- the one I grew up with -- wasn't *any* good at bringing out emotional conversations. He *would* share, and he was always right there when *I* wanted to share, but..." Dick shakes his head.

Steph frowns. "He didn't know how to start it up? The right questions to ask? What?"

"Got it one, little -- hmm," and Dick looks back and forth between Steph and Tim.

Tink smiles like a *pretty* shark. "What *are* you going to do with two little sisters, big brother...?"

Dick narrows his eyes and smiles like a *meaner* shark. "I have a few ideas, Tink. But, for now, Steph is little sister --" 

"I still don't agree to that!"

Jason pats her fantastic fucking hip. "It's better to just take it, babe."

Dick gives him a *hot* smile -- and turns back to Tim before cupping her face. "You're my pretty little girl, Tink. You take it... mm. Just the way I want you to. Just the way I *need* you to. Don't you...?"

Tim's jaw drops a little and Tink is just *gone* --

And Dick smiles *slowly* and strokes Tim's lip. "You're all mine --"

"Sometimes! Ah... sometimes."

Dick inclines his head. "Sometimes works. Very, very well," Dick says, and pulls back again. "My Bruce --"

"Your *old* Bruce," Steph says, and crosses her arms over her chest. "You have a new Bruce now."

"Oh -- God. Let's -- I'm just going to go back to calling him 'the Bruce I grew up with,'" and Dick raises his eyebrows and looks them all over.

They nod for it --

And Dick nods, too. "He was -- he *tried*. And I could *feel* him trying -- God, with all of myself. Every *part* of me. And it was just the easiest -- and most *right* -- thing to do to go with him, work with him, and -- learn to do things his way."

Jason frowns. "You *did* pull us out of ourselves, though. You didn't --"

"I know I didn't become him, little wing, and I've actually reached a point where I'm okay with that. But..." Dick shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "My *parents* would've had all these little truths out of you -- *all* of you -- *years* ago."

"You didn't *know* me years ago --"

"They would've *found* you years ago, little sister. Because *they* would've been smart enough to check the gymnastics meets."

Steph blinks. "Uh. Is that what you *plan* to do?"

Dick gives another one of those *slow* smiles. "This is a big, big house. And there's no such thing as 'enough' operatives. *Not* for Gotham. And there are more kids on the street. And? There are a whole *lot* of kids on the superhero boards," Dick says, and strokes a finger down the side of Tim's throat.

Tim shivers and licks her lips. "I -- only object to the idea of having less of you."

Dick blinks and turns to Tim with a frown --

"Ah -- sorry --"

Jason stops her with a hand on her shoulder. "No, seriously, we *have* to air these objections out. Right, Big Bird?"

Dick nods slowly, still staring into Tim -- and then he laughs *hard*, smile lines digging deep. "All right, here's where I confess my own issues a little more: Part of me was hoping to use my little recruitment plan as a way to keep from falling on *you* guys -- all of you -- like a pack of wolves in one *admittedly* attractive body."

Steph sucks her teeth. "Please. Either you'll fall on the *new* kids or you'll wind up *ignoring* the new kids because you can't get off *our* jocks."

"Exactly, Big Bird. And either way? You'll feel guilty as *shit*."

"And -- going by what we've observed from you -- you'll get even more uncommunicative."

Dick smiles ruefully at them. "Just enough of us?"

"For *now*," Steph says. "I still have to get used to you people," and she nods towards *him*. "What are we doing about Jay's issues?"

"Hey, what about *yours*, babe?"

Steph makes a face -- and then smiles ruefully. "We're hugging mine out, starting tonight after patrol when everyone is invited to my huge freaking bed upstairs until I kick all of you out again. Rules subject to change at a moment's notice."

Tim hums and reaches over to hold Steph's hand. "It's a date."

Dick raises an eyebrow at him. "What about it, Jay?"

"I -- uh. I told J'onn I needed to talk to Superboy."

Tim blinks at him.

"Because -- because I've been really unfair --"

"You don't *talk* to him --"

"And that's wrong, baby," Jason says, and strokes his hair. "You really care about him -- you *love* him, at least a little --"

"I don't --"

"Baby, if you didn't? You wouldn't have *kept* boning him. Not after you knew I didn't like him."

Tim blushes *hard* --

And Jason breaks formation to pull Tim into another hug. "It's okay. I *swear* it's okay, because I'm the only fuck-up here, and I just -- he's yours, and you care about him, and *that* means I'm *real* fucking late to deal. *Especially* since I never had a *good* reason to dislike him," and Jason pulls back enough to meet Tim's eyes. "Okay?"

"You're not -- you don't have to supervise my *relationships*!"

"It's not about supervision. It's about being the guy *I* want to be, and part of *that* is all about dealing -- really fucking *dealing* -- with the fact that you love people *outside* the family --"

"And part of that is terrifying my boyfriend?"

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boy--

No, he's not going to fucking freak --

And he's not going to talk fucking *shit* --

And he *is* going to deal with the *rest* of what Tim actually said before Tim gets any *more* tense and worried. He leans in to kiss Tim's forehead. "I'm not gonna scare him. I'm not gonna threaten him. I'm not even gonna warn him about what happens if he *hurts* you, because we both know that he already knows that, yeah?"

Tim nods once, still *tense* --

"I'm just gonna apologize to him, and ask him if we can maybe talk to each other sometimes --"

"You -- want to be his *friend*?"

Jason smiles ruefully. "I wanna be his *family*, baby. Because that? Would make *most* of the bad shit just blow away."

Tim sucks in a sharp breath, blinks a few times, and then steps back. "Clark? Would you --"

And Clark is right there, smiling *warmly* at Jason and reaching out, which --

Jason got used to Clark listening to every-damned-thing years ago. He smiles ruefully, punches Steph's fist, and jerks his chin at Dick. "I'll be back ASAP."

"Don't rush, little wing. Do *exactly* what you need to do," Dick says, and -- Jesus, that's the *proud* voice --

Jason gives up on everything resembling pride -- he *won't* need it where he's going -- and hugs Dick hard. "I'll do better, Big Bird --"

"I know you will," and Dick kisses his cheek again and then puts the squeeze on Jason's ribs.

Jason grunts just like he's supposed to --

"One thing everyone but you knows right now, Jay? Ray called an hour ago. They think they're making serious headway."

"Oh -- fuck --"

Dick claps his back and pulls back with a rueful smile. "It's *why* Bruce is upstairs with Harvey right this second."

"I gotta --"

"Do what you need to get yourself together," Dick says, hard and *even*. "Clark *will* bring you back if it all goes down suddenly."

Jason takes a deep breath and nods. "We're boloing Bruce if he rabbits, right?"

Dick reaches back -- and then he just *is* holding a tranq gun. The *mean* one they use on freaking *Croc*.

"But we'll bolo him, too," Steph says. "I need my turn."

Tim hums. "You really, really do."

"Nice. Back when I can," Jason says, and walks over to Clark. "I'm ready for my ride, Chester --"

And there's a lollipop in his mouth --

And he's wrapped in red --

And the lollipop is freaking *cherry* --

And -- he's totally in the Fortress, which is fucking *suspect* until he sees one of the learning pods Dick talked him into so he could learn Kryptonian faster. It's glowing *just* like there's someone *in* it, but --

"I thought --" Okay, that was more of a goddamned *mumble* because there's a *lollipop* in his *mouth* -- he takes it out. "I thought Superboy didn't *want* to learn Kryptonian."

Clark leers at him for just long enough to be worrying *and* interesting -- and then he hums and rubs at his upper lip. "He seems to have changed his mind. He told me..." Clark smiles *happily* -- "He told me that he could finally tell that I meant it when I named him 'gift.'"

"Aw, man, that's fantastic! Wait, maybe I shouldn't bother him --"

"The AI is bringing him to a more conscious state as we speak. It won't be --"

The pod cracks open and -- there he is, flying up to the skylight and stretching, yawning --

Jason has to admit that the new uniform works on him. It shows off how much he's grown -- now that he *is* growing -- and makes him look -- sleek.

Attractive.

A part of him is *picking* at the fact that he knows in his *bones* that Tim likes the new look just fine --

And that he'd probably kept *something* from the old uniform *anyway* --

Tim *always* keeps things like --

"What's up, Clark? The AI finally stopped yelling at me for thinking in English -- whoa!"

-- that. And, yeah, Jason really is standing here in *workout* clothes --

With no fucking *mask* -- because he's not gonna need one right now. Jason nods to Superboy. "I wanted to talk to you about something --"

"Is Tim okay?"

Jesus, Jesus --  he's dealing. "Tim's fine, man. Uh. Can we?"

Superboy stares at him *hard*, looking a lot less goofy and a lot more *thinky* than usual --

"It's all right, Kon-El," Clark says, and makes a soothing gesture. "Jason only wants --"

Jason holds up a hand. "I'll tell him. Heh. If he lets me," and Jason smiles ruefully at Superboy --

Who floats down to stand in front of him. He's made it to about five-eight to Jason's five-ten, and it looks like he'll eventually have at least *most* of Clark's size -- if not his jaw.

Not like that jaw could fit on just *anybody* --

And Jason's not gonna let his brain chase him away from this. "Mind if we keep this a little private?"

Kon looks at him like he's fucking crazy -- "Dude. We're in Clark's *home*."

"One of them only," Clark says, and floats over to stand close to Superboy. Close enough to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze in a way that -- somehow -- manages to look only a *little* pervy.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that Clark can *do* that --

"Clark --"

"It's all right, Kon-El. It would be no hardship for me to go elsewhere --"

"And you'd still be able to *hear* --"

"And I need not listen. I..." Clark smiles ruefully. "It's been very difficult lately for me not to listen to you, but I'd like to begin proving that I'm capable of allowing you both the respect and love you deserve, *and* privacy."

Superboy blushes pretty hard for that, turning away --

And Clark lets Jason see him *start* to reach for Superboy's face before he stops and just squeezes his shoulder again. Verdict: Perved beyond belief, but actually willing to *control* himself. Which means...

Well, there was no fucking *doubt* that Clark cared about the kid. Even when Superboy freaked him out, he still made sure that he had what he *needed*. It's just that this is a kind of care Jason's not sure he's seen from Clark before. Somewhere in the middle -- or maybe *above* -- all of that baseline perviness, Clark actually wants to be something like a *father* to Superboy. And that --

Does and doesn't seem more fucked-up than the relationship Dick had had with the Bruce who was born in this universe. Jason doesn't know, but he can damned well put some thought into it.

And ask Clark about it the next time he's recovered from whatever Clark says or does to make Jason pay for 'Chester.' Jason bites back the smirk --

And *then* remembers that Superboy can damned well smell his amusement from this distance. Right about when Superboy gives him a narrow and *suspicious* look. Jesus.

Jason raises his hands. "Easy, man. I was just thinking about Clark punishing me for calling him Chester all the time."

Superboy blinks in confusion --

Gets a thoughtful look that's kinda fascinatingly *distant* --

And then he snorts *hard* before breaking into snickers that actually seem a little scandalized. Heh. Nice --

And Clark sighs. "I suppose it was too much to hope that you hadn't picked *that* slang up somewhere --"

"Dude, it was totally programmed in," Superboy says, and pokes at his own forehead with two fingers. The half-gloves make him think of Roy and Connor a little --

They've always looked *cool* -- and impractically douche-y for pretty much everyone *but* archers.

And he's *coping*, because Clark looks *horrified* --

"Hey, it's okay, Clark! The stuff they programmed in is *useful* sometimes."

Clark looks *pained* --

Superboy looks *worried* --

Jason clears his throat. "Hey, you never know when he's gonna need random old-school slang."

"Yeah, exactly! I gotta... uh... talk to people. About things!"

Jason blinks -- and carries on. "He totally does. And some of those people will *appreciate* the *classics*."

Clark raises an eyebrow at both of them.

"Seriously," Superboy says, and then gives that slow and helpful nod people give to toddlers to get them to go along with things.

Was that programmed in, too?

"I... *appreciate* what you're both saying, but you can't --" Clark shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "I really can't help worrying about what you were *forced* to learn, Kon-El."

"Well -- but. It's nothing really *bad*, Clark. Just -- some of it is kinda weird. Uh. Now that I'm thinking about it more often."

Clark reaches out to touch Superboy's face again, and this time he actually lets his fingertips brush his cheek.

Superboy smiles cautiously, *hopefully* -- and then floats back far enough to give Clark a high-five. "You can leave me with -- uh. Starling. It won't take long, right, dude?"

Jason smiles ruefully. "I'm pretty sure it'll be brief, yeah."

Superboy bites his lip. "Okay, cool. See you later?"

"Of course," Clark says, and squeezes Superboy's hand before zooming off -- somewhere.

And -- Jason watches Superboy concentrate -- *obviously* concentrate -- for a long moment. "Can you still hear him?"

"A little. He's a couple dozen miles up -- okay, no, he just flew north *really* fast. No idea anymore," he says, and shrugs.

That -- "That was good, Superboy. You almost looked completely casual."

Superboy narrows his eyes. "Do you just wanna fuck with me? I already know you birds can lie as easy as you breathe. Some of us need practice with this stuff."

"Easy, easy, I'm not -- I didn't mean to break your balls, okay?" Jason pushes at the air a little. "I'm actually really fucking *bad* at lying, and Dick only puts me undercover if, like, *no* one else is available. And he damned well asks people on other teams *first*."

Superboy looks *confused* --

"I'm -- doing this wrong. Look, uh --" Jason shakes his head and closes the distance between them before offering his hand. "Hi. I'm Jason. I wanna start over with you."

"What does that mean?"

It means you remember *exactly* how much of an asshole I've been -- Jason drops his hand and nods. "It means that I *know* I've been an asshole to you and I'm trying to fix it."

Deep frown -- "Did Tim put you up to this?"

"No." And we both know he never would. Don't we? "No, and -- I'm not even doing it *for* him."

"Then who *are* you doing it for?"

"Myself," Jason says, and smiles ruefully. "I just -- I've started getting close to J'onn --"

Superboy *blushes* --

And Jason decides not to bring up the tube. Just -- not right now. "I -- anyway. He pointed out some of the ways I'm kinda fucked up. And I can't -- I can't let that stand."

Superboy crosses his arms over his respectable chest. "And part of that is... what? Making *friends* with me?"

"If I can. If you're even remotely interested --"

"I don't get it, dude. You're not -- what does *you* being fucked-up have to do with *me*?"

"I've been... really fucking unfair to you --"

"Because you're *jealous*?"

"In a word? Fuck, yeah. Because you don't have a damned thing to be ashamed of about your life, and I really fucking do." Jason shoves his hands in his pockets and offers his own shrug. "Part of me is sure -- *dead* sure -- that one day Tim's gonna figure out I'm no good for him, or at all -- and waltz right on over to you. For good."

That gets another blush, and -- yeah.

"You've thought about it."

"No, I -- Tim *loves* you, dude. He's not gonna -- it's not like he's some kind of... I don't even know. But *you* should," Superboy says, and frowns at him just like --

Just like he'd said something which would hurt Tim. Which... "I'm working on it. I know -- I *did* already say this stuff *to* Tim."

"And he *didn't* kick your ass?"

'He.' Superboy doesn't know, yet --

And it's not *Jason's* place to say a fucking word, even though right now that feels like more of the bullshit he's been dumping on the poor kid's head --

"C'mon, *what*, Starling?"

"He kicked my ass a little, yeah. And I told him I'd do better -- starting with you."

Superboy frowns. "Just -- what did *you* do that was so bad?"

"Sold my ass for the better part of a year before Dick picked me up --"

"*Fuck* -- but. There's nothing *wrong* with that!"

"I knifed a few johns --"

"Uh. But -- *seriously*?"

Jason smiles ruefully again. "Just the ones that got violent, but I always gave more than I took if I could --"

"They -- they *deserve* it. I've *talked* to sex workers. I know this stuff!"

Jason raises his eyebrows.

Superboy blushes -- but stands his ground, unfolding his arms and jabbing at Jason's chest a little. Without touching. "It's not -- you *can't* get on yourself for that. I've *seen* sex workers who do that to themselves and -- it's no *good*. They *hurt* themselves --"

"And other people, too, sometimes," Jason says, and smiles a little wider. "When Dick picked me up, I was thinking about going after the johns for real. Including the ones who *didn't* try to get rough with me."

"I -- oh."

"Yeah. And sometimes -- even now -- when I'm beating on the pimps and johns? I'm not doing it for anyone but the kid I used to be."

"But -- that's *fair*. I mean. Isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"I mean -- it's not like --" Superboy frowns again and looks away. "I'm not -- I'm kinda... mean. To mad scientist types."

The fucking *tube* --

"I figured -- that's allowed. I mean, it *should* be, right?" And now Superboy's looking *worried* at him --

"Shit, I didn't mean to fuck *you* up --"

"But -- I mean, Tim *told* me this stuff. He's bitchy as *hell* to bad parents, and he always said Dick was extra mean to, like, muggers and people running protection rackets, and -- and he didn't mention you," Superboy says, and blushes again.

"You don't --" Get it. Except -- except what, exactly, is he doing here? Jason steps back and holds up a hand, breathing himself down to a little half-assed meditation --

And finding a *new* path in his brain, something that leads straight from hating on himself a little to -- not. He doesn't *have* to take it -- there's *nothing* pulling him in that direction -- but there's a... suggestion.

Right there.

Jason swallows.

"Uh... Starling? I mean -- Jason..."

Jason *takes* it, because he can, because it's fucking allowed, because he's not --

He's not gonna make *another* kid all fucked in the head --

And he's right there in his head, right there looking into Tim's eyes and seeing love and hope and something like *adoration* --

And Dick's there feeling pride, and love, and *need* --

And Steph is tagging out to bruise him, not hurt him --

And Bruce is reaching for him like he's something --

Something so much *better* -- Babs.

Babs is there, too, somehow, even though he's *always* been too young for her, even though he always feels like a puppy who hasn't figured out how his paws work in her place, even though she's pulling away like escape velocity from the street is *easy* --

("I haven't seen my biological father for... God, I guess since I was ten or so? A few years before my *exceedingly* pathetic drunk of a mother --"

"*Seriously*?")

And Babs' smile had been slow and wet and *dark*... but still fond.

("Is it that I cover better, do you think? Skylark had the same reaction."

"I... I just... you don't *feel* like --"

"Your tribe, Jaybird...? There's something to be said for the fact that Jim Gordon really is *just* that good a man. There's also something to be said for a teenaged girl deciding, way back when, to be someone new."

"And you think I should do the same thing? That *Lark* should?"

"God, no. Skylark drives me up a wall and I can *feel* my father *itching* to shove a bar of lye soap down your throat sometimes, but I'd *miss* you. *Both* of you. You're exactly who you need to be, I promise.")

And he'd been -- his back was up. His *blood* was up --

("Jaybird. Think for a minute about how much I -- and the rest of the family -- enjoy your company *just* as you are --"

"You don't have to --"

"Blow smoke up your ass? Wouldn't dream of it. But... I think, right now, that instead of doing *anything* useful, you're thinking about how much *you* enjoy your company... and how much you don't.")

And -- he'd changed the subject. She'd *let* him change the subject --

Let him *leave* --

Was that really the *last* time he'd spoken to her for more than just the damned Mission?

Fucking --

Is it better or worse that she probably wasn't *surprised*? But --

The path is there, and it's his *family*, and --

"Uh. Should I call Clark back? You're kinda --"

"I'm good," Jason says, and -- doesn't pull on a fake smile. He damned well looks *up*, though. "I'm good. I'm just... there's a lot in my head right now."

Superboy nods like that makes sense --

Like he's a lot fucking more than the goofy *asshole* --

Who he probably never really was. Not -- not all the fucking time. Not all of him.

"Superboy --"

"I'm not -- I mean. You can call me Kon. Everyone does," he says, and blushes again.

Jason -- swallows. And nods. "Kon, then. And you --"

"Jason?"

Jason smiles and nods. "Or Jay --"

"Does. Does Tim call you that?"

Jason bites the inside of his lip a little -- no. "Yeah, mostly."

"He doesn't when he's just, you know, talking about you. I was... kinda curious," Superboy -- *Kon* says, and snorts. "He can be so *serious*."

"The Mission --"

"Hey, I know --"

"I -- know you do. Sorry, I just -- reflex."

And that wary look is back -- damn.

Jason winces. "I just --" He shakes his head. "I'm the one who doesn't adapt too well. I'm the one who was never *really* a part of *any* team. I have a way I know how to be with my family and then I have a way I know how to be with -- everyone else."

"But..."

"Yeah?"

Kon shakes his head. "I don't get it, dude. I mean, Clark and John and Kara and Natasha are great, but it would be *fucked* if I spent all my time in Metropolis and Smallville."

"I know what you're saying, and I try to get up to NYC fairly often, because I *love* the Titans, but --"

"You don't need them? What?"

"Not -- no. I just -- they've been there for me when I've needed them in a lot of ways, and they're great, but I get... pretty *much* all I need in Gotham."

Kon's nod looks a little *sad*.

"Hey --"

"No, I -- I mean. Not everyone can be into having a bunch of friends. Right?"

The smile on Jason's face feels crooked as hell, and the path in his head is cool and easy and full of something that *tastes* one whole fuck of a lot like acceptance. Like --

It feels like eyes on him, though. Blue eyes, green eyes, red eyes -- waiting for him to fucking cope.

"I think... I think I've spent a real long time convinced -- no. I *know* I've spent a real long time convinced that there were things I just couldn't have, and that the things I had could be taken away... anytime. Anytime, at all --"

"Tim's not a *thing*. And -- I don't like you talking about him like he isn't *loyal* --"

"Is that what you want from him? Loyalty?"

"*Yes* --"

"Because I'm thinking..." Jason rolls his head on his neck, which feels tight and fucking *painful* --

"*What* are you thinking?"

"That loyalty is something I'm scared of, Kon."

*Confused* frown --

And Jason smiles ruefully again. "Look at it this way -- someone can be loyal to someone even when they don't feel *anything* for them anymore --"

"*Jesus*, you've got problems!"

That -- Jason snorts. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do. And -- they're mine, and I'm not gonna lay them on you --"

"But are you gonna *deal* with them? I mean, like -- you're *talking* like you will, but you just keep trying to convince me of all this fucked-up shit."

Jason opens his mouth -- and closes it.

Kon looks at him like he's waiting for Jason to catch a fucking *clue*. And --

Fuck, why can't he? Why can't *he* live like he knows everything is basically okay and will *stay* okay? That has a lot of answers -- *easy* answers, even, starting with G-for-Gotham -- but there are even more answers that he doesn't really think about. He -- "How do you do it, Kon?"

"Do what?"

Jason jerks his chin at him. "Live like you do." Love -- "*Love* like you do. I don't know a whole lot about you, but I know you've been *through* some fucked-up shit --"

"So maybe I should act like it?"

Jason shrugs. "You pointed out that I'm not actually making any forward progress. Dick taught me to ask for *help* when that happened."

"You needed to be *taught*?"

Jason snickers. "Okay, that -- that right there, actually. You were imprisoned naked in a motherfucking *tube*. You *had* to find a way out by yourself or you'd still be there getting fucked over by Cadmus, and then you had to figure out how to *live* on your own because first Clark was *dead* and then he was freaked right the fuck out by your *existence*. Why *aren't* you like me?"

And Kon just *glares* at him for a while --

And Jason remembers. "Aw -- fuck, no, I didn't mean to --"

"I made *friends*, asshole. People are *good*, and so is the *world*. If you need help, there's *someone* out there who'll give it. Sometimes you have to *look* for them, but that doesn't mean they're not freaking *there*. It's --" Kon shakes his head. "Okay, you had a really fucked-up childhood. I didn't know about the hooking, but Tim has given me little hints sometimes -- usually when he's trying to tell me to be more of a *pessimist* -- and, like, I *know*, all right? And I also know that Gotham is more fucked-up than, like, anywhere else in this *country*. But you can't tell me there was *no* one!"

I was alone.

I had a *squat* I had to *fight* for.

I lost my virginity to a guy who smelled like mustard and Old Spice who kept calling me *Billy* --

I was *alone* when she died, and the social workers just *let* me run the fuck away --

And stay away --

Just like my mother stayed away from everyone who tried to get her to drink a little less --

Apply for fucking *assistance* --

Anything but -- selling it.

And being alone except for the friends -- and 'friends' -- she drank and smoked with and *him*.

And --

Yeah. Jason takes a deep breath and looks Kon in the eye. "You're right."

Kon blinks. "Uh. Yeah?"

"No, you know you are. *Don't* act like you don't --"

"And don't give me orders, dude. You're not the boss of me."

Jason licks his teeth -- "Is Tim?"

Kon shrugs again, and his fake-casual is a lot more shaky than it was before --

"I'm -- taking that question back. It's none of my business --"

"Do you want to be my friend or *not*?"

Jason *sucks* in a breath -- "Sorry. I -- sorry. What should I do next here?"

"I --" Kon punches his shoulder lightly. "Ask me questions and don't freaking take them back until I *tell* you I don't want to talk about it."

"It -- felt like you were about to do just that."

"I -- oh."

Jason nods. "And -- it's okay --"

"He's totally the boss of me. I mean, I act like he isn't, and I give him a lot of shit when we're not, you know, fighting for our *lives*, but -- he's Cardinal. And he's a lot of other things, too," Kon says, and searches Jason a little.

"There's -- I wanna say that there are *some* things I wouldn't do for -- him, but it's not true."

*Kon* nods like Jason had just affirmed a basic fact of the universe, which --

It's something else he needed to know.

Jason smiles and punches Kon's arm.

"Heh." Kon flies up a few feet and mimes some boxing moves which are actually pretty damned tight.

Jason jerks his chin again. "Did Tim teach you that?"

"Hunh? No, it was all programmed in. They were really *exact* about how much force most humans can take, and when to decrease it, and when to increase it --"

"And how to throw the kind of punch that can lay a super-strong meta out without fucking your knuckles?"

"Uh, hunh. I always thought they must've had some meta in to help with that, though I guess they could've measured it from watching metas fight? I dunno," and Kon flies around a little. It's slow enough that it looks more like something he needs to do than something he wants to do.

Jason nods thoughtfully. "How much do you *want* to know about what went down when they were making you?"

"Uh... it kinda depends?" And Kon smiles ruefully and pushes a hand back through his hair. "I mean... sometimes I don't wanna think about it, at all, you know?"

Part of him wants to point out how *dangerous* that is --

But the rest of him has actually been *having* this conversation. "I get that."

"And it's not like -- I mean, Tim doesn't really let me blow shit off too much," Kon says, and that's a *shy* look --

"He's gonna be beating on me until I cope, yeah."

Kon nods and lands again. "So... what else do you wanna know about me?"

"What... what would you do if he left you?"

"Get him *back*, dude. Ask a *hard* one."

Jason coughs a laugh. "I... uh. I can't decide if I want to bring you back to Gotham or just run screaming."

"Uh. Neither? I vote neither."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "You don't wanna see him in his natural habitat more often?"

"Hey, I *have* visited. It's fucking *scary* there, and I'm not allowed to make it *less* scary."

"You were a lot of help after the 'quake --"

"Yeah, yeah. So was everyone else. I still don't *get* what makes people want to *stay* there."

"Some people have no choice --"

"No, I get that, and I get that *you* guys have to stay there for *them*, but -- fuck, dude, I got shot at by a guy who turned out to be an undead *flesh-eating* *mobster* with *tentacles* and all I was trying to do was help put a *school* back together. I'm not saying I won't come if Tim calls me, or, you know, if you guys ever need more help, but the rest of the time? That place is *all* yours."

"Heh. Got it. Anything you wanna know about me?"

"I... would you ever *leave* Gotham?"

"I... I'm needed --"

"But if you weren't?"

Jason shakes his head. "I don't think I can wrap my head around that."

Kon nods. "Okay, what if your *family* left?"

"They --"

"If they *would*," Kon says, and something in his eyes says this is an important question --

And Jason absolutely gets it, because yeah, it is. "Dick told me recently that one of the reasons he did everything he could to make it easy for me and Tim to be together is that he knew I'd never leave him -- with the subtext that he knew *Tim* would never leave the *family*."

"C'mon --"

Jason holds up a hand. "I'm not avoiding the question, okay? I just -- I'd follow him if he still wanted me."

"And Dick?"

He *wouldn't* -- but, okay, he can go with this. "If I thought he needed me, yeah -- and if I could take Tim with me. And -- we're getting someone new --"

"Stephanie? I mean -- Skylark?"

Of course Tim told Kon about her. Before he and Dick knew her *name*, maybe. And -- he can deal. "Yep. She's pretty fantastic."

"And hot?"

"Fuck, yeah. She's got these hips --"

("Are you fetishizing my child-bearing hips?")

"-- anyway. She looks damned good on top of *being* damned good."

"Are you and her boning?"

Jason grins. "She's part of the family, Kon. You kinda gotta go there."

Kon snorts and punches him again. "*Tim* says that *only* Dick has ever gotten a taste of Owl."

Not a surprise that Kon doesn't know *her* name -- but. "She's got her own thing going on. And she's always liked 'em older." Or, you know, old *enough*.

"*She* was hot when she was Batgirl --"

"She still *is* hot. And a lot harder to catch on camera."

Another thoughtful nod. "But she hangs out with you guys and everything? Tim says he visits her all the time."

And he absolutely does. A *lot* fucking more than he does. "I kinda... I let my issues get in the way of me talking to her. Being with her."

Kon frowns. "Hey, you know, it's one thing if you kiss off the rest of the world, but she's one of *you*. Right?"

"I -- kinda want to kill those questions of yours."

"Oh --"

"No, wait, not *those* questions, okay? Just the ones where you're not sure about how *annoyingly* fucking smart you are."

Kon *blushes*. "Uh -- I'm not the smart one --"

"Heh. I'm *really* not the smart one --"

"You're *Starling*. You've been doing this *forever*."

"Not really. Not -- " Jason shakes his head. "The fact that I've been doing this twice as long as you've existed doesn't mean I've been doing it all *that* long. Time can... go really fast, sometimes," and that was a *weak* finish --

But Kon nods like it made sense anyway. "It doesn't feel like forever."

"Maybe it will when Dick can't kick my ass *easily*, but... I'm kinda thinking that it'll take more than time *or* skill to make me feel old. Or even like an adult."

"What would do it?"

"I -- loss, I think. It's part of what did it for Dick. And --" Tana Moon. "You know how that works, too, yeah?"

Kon stiffens right up and nods, taking a shaky breath -- but not turning away even when his eyes start looking a little damp.

Jason squeezes his arm instead of punching it -- and... hunh. He's hot like Clark is, but not *as* hot. The real difference, though, is that he feels almost entirely human. His muscle is hard, but it still feels like *muscle*, as opposed to fucking *stone*.

"What is it?"

"Nothing -- no, just. Your power is from your aura? *Just* your aura?"

"Hunh? No, I'm getting some of Clark's powers, too, now that I'm aging normally. Why?"

"I wasn't expecting you to feel like a human," Jason says, and moves his hands back into his pockets.

"*Oh*. Uh... heh. Here," Kon says, and gets a deep look of concentration on his face --

And he feels hard. And *cooler* -- "Your aura is up."

"Yep."

"Your aura was *down*?"

"Uh. Yeah? We're in the *Fortress*, dude. If something gets in here that wants to hurt me, the aura won't make much of a freaking *difference*. It's not like you're wearing your uniform or anything."

"No -- I'm due to go work out, actually. I was working on the reports when J'onn came over to talk to me --"

"Dude, he just hangs out in your *Cave*?"

"He's working on a project with us -- for us, really." Jason grins. "I'm hoping he comes around a lot more often, though."

"Are you boning *him*?"

"Uh, hunh," and Jason raises his eyebrows. "Got a problem with that?"

"*No*! I mean, if that's your kink --"

"It really fucking is --"

"Fine by me, dude. But -- I didn't know he was *that* close to you guys. Tim's never said anything about him."

"It's pretty new. But -- uh. Bruce was his friend back in the day. Did Tim tell you --"

"That you guys totally have a living, breathing *Batman* now? Yeah. Jesus, I'd think you'd all be focused on *him*, you know?"

Jason snorts. "We've been pretty focused. Enough to convince him to stick around."

"*Dude*."

"Yeah -- "

"So does this mean you're all gonna be bats instead of birds now?"

"*Fuck*, no. Though if Tim wants to change his codename to Fruitbat or some shit, we're pretty much all duty bound to support him."

Kon snickers.

Jason grins. "Liked that, did ya?"

"Hell, yeah. When we're up against, like, kid metas, they get so *confused* by Cardinal."

"You don't ever call him Tink?"

"Eh, that's your thing. If I call him anything other than his name or Cardinal, I'm calling him Red. Hey, thanks for talking him out of that purple sparkly thing. It wasn't *nearly* as hot on him as his regular uniform."

Did Tim's inner woman pick that thing out?

The heels, maybe?

Jason frowns --

"Hey, what is it?"

"I -- something you said made me think of a question I need to ask Tim sooner rather than later."

"Bird stuff?"

Jason waves a hand. "Only in the sense that it's *family* stuff. I need --"

"To get back, I know. I got about a million more Kryptonian words to learn, anyway."

Jason snorts. "I know just about enough of that language to get Clark to fuck me harder, so --"

"Oh, dude, do *not* put that image in my *head*!"

Aw. Too bad, Chester. "Heh. Sorry."

"You are *not*. He's -- he's all -- he's *different* family --"

"I'm very happy to hear you say that," Clark says from right fucking there --

And he even sounds *sincere* --

"Though, truly, one shouldn't... ah... set such things in stone?"

*Mostly* sincere --

"Hunh?"

Clark sighs, smiles, and pats Kon's shoulder. "Nothing of any import," he says, and --

Kon shrugs and lets him get away with it. Because he can't read Clark as well as he can read Jason? Because he doesn't *want* to read Clark that well? Or maybe it's something to do with all those questions that didn't need to be there, at all, all those *moments* when Kon's confidence had failed.

There would've been more of those if Jason hadn't been so much off *his* game, and that's...

Something else to talk to Tim about before he even tries to go shoving his own nose in. For now, though --

Jason grins and offers his hand again --

And Kon grins and shakes it, then grips Jason's forearm with his eyebrows up.

Jason lets his own grin get wider and returns the gesture. "Thank you."

"Hey, you're welcome! And, you know, we can talk pretty much any time you want, okay? I mean, I know you've got the birds, and you'll want to talk more to them --"

Jason hauls Kon away from Clark and in for a hug, hard and serious and *solid*. Kon stiffens up for a second, but then he just *is* relaxed and hugging Jason back, patting and stroking a little. And when Jason moves to pull back --

Kon holds on for a minute. "*Are* you gonna be okay? I mean... I don't think we really *fixed* anything."

"I've got a lot to think about, Kon. More and *better* stuff thanks to you -- like the fact that Tim's got pretty good taste in boyfriends."

Kon *beams*, and, for the first time, Jason can see the Clark in him. All *through* him, really, and that --

That just means he's been real fucking slow about even more things than he'd already thought. He --

He pulls back the rest of the way and nods to Clark, who wraps him up tight and flies them up --

He'll do better.

*

Bruce watches Harvey pace the bedroom Alfred had set aside for Bruce, watches him move and notes restlessness, curiosity, tension --

But he doesn't have to stare. He sits down at the small desk --

"Don't do that."

Bruce blinks. "Don't... sit?"

Harvey's laugh is quiet, nervous --

Bruce thinks that, were he to rest his hand on Harvey's chest right now, he would feel his heart pounding. It's not a feeling he would ever disdain, but he's quite sure that the reasons for Harvey's purely *emotional* arousal are anything but arousing. "Harv..."

"I -- don't sit in that chair."

"You don't think I'd be in your way on the other chair?"

"Sit on the *bed*, big guy. Gimme -- gimme a reason to do the same thing."

"Harv, we need not make love --"

Harvey makes a soft, pained noise and covers his face, and Bruce -- must. He stands and closes the distance between them, pulling Harvey into his arms --

And Harvey hugs him back *almost* immediately, pushes his nose against the side of Bruce's throat and breathes harshly and terribly --

Bruce tightens his hold in a reflex he's not altogether *sure* about --

But Harvey begins to lengthen and even his breathing, and so it is a reflex that Bruce will do nothing to beat out of himself. He kisses Harvey's temple, and Harvey shivers and continues to relax himself with steady, practiced care --

"I'm scared."

"I am, as well."

"You -- you're not *going* anywhere, big guy!"

Bruce smiles ruefully, but doesn't pull back. "You are. There is... more than enough fear for that. And pain."

"Ah -- hell," and Harvey hugs him firmly. "We don't know anything, yet. We don't -- I'm not just gonna let them drop me in any old universe. It has to be -- there has to be at least a little *hope* that I'll be able to find Gilda..."

"I know, Harv. Dick has told the Atom and the others to search for universes with multiple biological signatures matching Gilda's."

"That -- well, that makes complete sense. In that way where it's science freaking *fiction*," Harvey says, pulling back enough to search Bruce's eyes a little. "This is working for you? It makes sense?"

"To a certain extent."

"Okay, so --"

"Specifically, to the extent where I'm absolutely positive that the understanding I have of what the physicists are doing is exceedingly shallow where not simply wrongheaded."

"I..." Harvey snorts and cups and squeezes Bruce's shoulders. "Bet you wish you went to college *now*."

Bruce laughs quietly. "The idea had occurred. Repeatedly."

"Not that they really prepared any of us for any kind of science education -- hey, how did your *Dad* manage to learn anything useful at Exeter?"

"The stories he told suggested a rather more passionate teaching staff than what we were... subjected to."

"Heh. You know, you never talked shit about the professors -- or any of the other adults -- when we were *there*. Not unless they were *actively* being assholes to the weaker kids -- or me."

"It was something I was rather explicitly trained against," Bruce says, cupping Harvey's waist with one hand and stroking his hair with the other. "Mother wasn't an especially patient woman with the people she felt were undeserving -- and did not demand that sort of thing from me -- but Father, Alfred, and Leslie were all quite clear about the respect due to adults from children and teenagers."

Harvey nods thoughtfully. "I can see it. And -- heh. You preferred spending time with your Mom."

"When I didn't prefer being alone with my Visible Man doll and Father's old medical texts."

An eyebrow raise --

"Harv...?"

"How much did you really *prefer* being alone, big guy?"

"I --"

Harvey covers Bruce's mouth with his fingers, and it's enough to make Bruce hunger to touch, to kiss --

Harvey shivers, perhaps for the look in Bruce's eyes --

"Harv..."

Harvey winces. "Just -- I need to know this. I need to know you as well as I can, big guy," he says, and moves his fingers.

"You're building memories."

A laugh -- "I used to think that was one of the saddest things about you, big guy. I used to -- it just seemed so *painful*."

"But not now?"

"Now..." Harvey smiles wryly and kisses Bruce, soft and brief --

("Everything you do like that is a first, beloved friend. And quite possibly a *last*.")

Bruce does his own shivering and makes the kiss warmer, deeper --

Harvey makes a low sound and begins stripping out of his suit with rapid, careless motions -- without breaking the kiss.

Bruce wants to help him, to slow him down --

Bruce wants to make this moment *last* --

But he knows that Harvey wants other moments. Bruce nods and toes out of his trainers, pushes down his shorts, jock, and the strangely sleek underwear that had appeared in his drawer this morning. He isn't sure what they're called, but he *will* know. Dick and Jason wear this sort of underwear all the time, and --

He'll have the chance to ask this, and many other questions. He --

He groans and cups Harvey's face as Harvey tears at the buttons of his shirt, pushes his tongue *deep* as those same buttons fall to the carpet --

Harvey pants and *bites* his lip --

"*Harv* --"

He pulls back. "I have to *know* you!"

Bruce swallows and nods. "I --" He takes off his shirt, sits on the bed to remove his socks --

And Harvey is right there beside him doing the same thing. He --

He wants to *watch* this, *take* this --

He must speak. "I wanted -- I believed I wanted to be alone, because, by the time I had been in kindergarten for a few days, I knew that I had no desire to spend time with children my age. I also knew that even the most patient and caring of adults grew tired with the company of children --"

"You didn't want to be a burden?"

"Precisely. Alone was... it seemed the better path --"

"It wasn't. Tell me --"

"I know that now," Bruce says, and cups Harvey's face, strokes his skin --

His stubble hasn't grown in, at all, from this morning, and won't until much later --

Will he still be here, then? Will -- "I'd like to shave you."

Harvey coughs a laugh. "You still use straight razors, don't you."

"They provide a far superior --"

"Can you keep your hands from shaking, big guy? When we're both damp and naked in a steamy bathroom and you can *see* me thinking about everything I could do to make you sweat --"

"*Harv* --"

"I *love* you," and that was more of a growl than language, more --

So much more, and Harvey is on him, moving him --

Bruce helps, holding and squeezing and *writhing* them further onto the bed, closer to where they can touch, and love --

"Ah, God -- "

Bruce kisses him again, nuzzles his mouth and breathes in the scents of Alfred's coffee *and* Alfred's special soothing blend of teas -- he needs more, and so he licks Harvey's throat --

"Oh -- oh, yeah --"

He sucks there, bites and -- no, he will leave no marks. He mustn't --

Kissing here is enough, sucking *gentle* kisses, careful ones --

"God, Bruce, you're holding *back*!"

The accusation is *unmistakable*, the desire comprehensible to every part of him which has known love and needed so much *more* -- but. "You must. You must blame me for this," Bruce says, and doesn't wait before he bites Harvey over his jugular --

Harvey gasps --

Gasps again and *shakes* --

And cries out when Bruce pulls back, *clutches* him --

Bruce bites over his carotid and strokes Harvey's beautiful body, too lean still, but familiarly wonderful, *needful* --

Harvey cries out again, and Bruce needs --

Bruce pulls back and stares at him, fills his mind with the sight of Harvey's parted lips, his dazed eyes slowly finding focus again, the shine of fresh sweat on his forehead --

Bruce licks him there --

"*Bruce*. Tell me -- tell me something you haven't told me before --"

"I sniffed your pillow when I masturbated. I -- when you were at baseball practice --"

"Jesus -- fuck -- *more* --"

Bruce kisses Harvey again, licks --

Harvey turns out of the kiss and flips them only somewhat awkwardly. The self-defense courses taken by everyone in the D.A.'s office remotely healthy enough for them were, by necessity, quite good --

And Bruce will remember Harvey's hands on his shoulders --

And Harvey rising above him --

And the *darkness* of Harvey's flush --

"*Please*, Bruce!"

And for a moment he feels only stupid, awkward and *incorrect* --

"I need *everything*!"

And he will remember this, too. "This -- this desire --" Bruce swallows and reaches to cup Harvey's lean and relatively pale hips. "I have sketchbooks filled with images of your hands --"

"God -- more."

"I have more filled with -- suits you could wear. Suits I imagined you in --"

Another laugh -- "*Business* suits?"

"And -- uniforms."

Harvey bites his lip -- "Were they tight, big guy?"

"Most of them were... impractically so."

And this laugh is bright, faintly wild -- "Poured on?"

"I felt very embarrassed by the one in which your circumcision scar was visible through the material --"

An explosive *snort* -- and Harvey scratches down Bruce's pectorals, strokes *up* and to the sides --

Strokes over Bruce's ribs and licks his lips --

Dips his thumb in Bruce's navel --

"*Harv*..."

"I need more. I need -- every time I gave you that look we both knew meant I didn't want you to tell me the truth. Every time you blushed. Every -- God, and it doesn't all have to be about *me* --"

"You have to know how much I *need* you --"

"I do. I do. But I want to know it *better*," Harvey says, and *grips* Bruce's penis --

Bruce groans and shudders --

"Can you concentrate on talking while I touch you? I -- I *need* that --"

"Your *hand* --"

"Mine, big guy. Just mine right now -- God, did you really have sex with *all* of them?"

"Not -- not Stephanie --"

"No, she's been giving *me* those looks, but I don't think she'll last long with you around. Heh. Here's a hint -- talk *Republican* to her."

Bruce blinks and tries to -- to focus --

And Harvey snickers. "She's a *traditional* girl, big guy. You gotta be respectful."

"I try -- I try to always -- *mm* --" And Harvey's thumb in his mouth is thick, lightly callused where once it had been heavily so, strong and mobile as Harvey uses it to press down on Bruce's tongue --

"I'll tell you something, okay? I think she's a stunner. If she was just *two* years older -- and if I didn't have the best woman in the world waiting for me somewhere out in the freaking *multiverse* -- I'd go for her. She's passionate, smart, no-nonsense, *and* she's willing to learn new things about the world. She's not a traditional girl even a *little*, even though part of her wants to be, and she *knows* it. So you remember *that*. And you tell her someday that a *very* problematic part of me wanted to know what she tastes like. And then? You taste her *for* me."

Bruce lets his nostrils flare --

"Oh... big guy, I..." Harvey licks his lips again --

Pulls his thumb out of Bruce's mouth --

*Sucks* his thumb and wraps his other hand around both of them, holding and stroking --

Bruce groans and stares, wanting more than just flashes of Harvey's penis, more than the feel of it, so long and slender -- "Harv --"

"Yeah -- yeah. I wanted this bad, big guy, thought of it all -- all the freaking *time* --"

"*Tell* me --"

Harvey moans and shivers -- "Wanted -- wanted it on your bed, surrounded by your *scent* --"

"Oh --" And then he's grunting, because Harvey is squeezing rhythmically, eyes closed and searching -- "You -- *more* --"

"Wanted it *here*, but -- in your bedroom -- your old bedroom --"

"It's Tim's --"

"Does he even *use* it?"

He? Or she? Is *that* secret available to Harvey -- no, he must assume no, even though it hurts. "He -- he said no. I haven't seen --"

"You like his colognes --"

"*Yes* --"

"I like *yours*, big guy. You always -- *nn*. You always smelled so good, so *classy* --"

"I never -- I hardly ever *chose* --"

"Even when you were freaking *Brucie* -- oh, I gotta --" And Harvey begins to stroke, fast and *hard* --

"*Harv* --"

"God -- God, so much *time* --"

"*Look* at me!"

And Harvey cries out and does it, and for a moment it's only the two of them, only what they can see of each other, feel --

Harvey looks as wild as Bruce feels, as hungry, as *desperate* -- "I need -- we need *more* --"

"Anything, anything, big guy --"

"I want -- let me show you what I've learned --"

"Oh -- fuck, yeah, we can, we can absolutely -- God, your body --"

And it's too much not to flip them, cover Harvey, kiss him again and drive against him --

"*Fuck*, Bruce --"

"I've dreamed of joining you *with* Gilda --"

Harvey grunts and *bucks* --

"She's beautiful, so petite, but her hands --"

"Strong, so -- *rough* --"

Bruce moans and *grinds* against him -- "I've dreamed of you mouthing them, sucking --"

"I do, I *do* --"

"I've dreamed of her taking me with them while I took *you* --"

Harvey growls and shoves Bruce *back*, and for a moment Bruce wonders if he's gone too far --

But Harvey is only scrabbling at the bedside table. He --

"Harv, I don't know --"

"*I* know," he says, and pulls out a bottle of lubricant of the same brand as what Dick used with Tim last night. It's quite full and --

Hm. "How did you --"

"Big guy, if they *don't* have slick in every single bedroom in this manor -- just in *case* -- I'd be *real* damned shocked."

Bruce hums and considers the many definitions of 'healthy teenaged sexuality' -- until Harvey snaps his fingers in front of Bruce's face. "I'm sorry --"

Harvey's smile is wry. "It was good for you last night."

Bruce takes a deep breath and nods. "I would... I would answer every question --"

"Tell me about Superman? And here," Harvey says, and twines their fingers together around the bottle.

"Oh. Harv --"

"Gimme your other hand --"

Bruce pins Harvey's free hand with his own, clutches his strong wrist --

"Oh, *yeah* --"

"He is... he has many fantasies."

"About you?"

Bruce smiles ruefully and thrusts --

"Oh -- *slow*."

"Yes, Harv --"

"Nnh -- but not too slow, oh, fuck, I love your *hair* --"

"Your body... such grace --"

"Tell me, tell me everything --"

"I believe he has fantasies about *everyone* he cares about even slightly --"

"Jesus --"

"I believe..." Bruce licks his lips. "Do you want --"

"In me, you gotta get in me --"

"I *will*, but --"

"Tell me more first, come on, tell me what you -- you love him, don't you?"

Bruce pants, flushes -- "Yes --"

"Since -- from the beginning? Like me?"

"More -- I was afraid of him, despite or perhaps." Bruce groans and thrusts faster --

"No, no --"

"Harv --"

"Not *yet* --"

Bruce shudders and slows himself down, forces himself -- "Your *heat* --"

"Superman -- Superman's hotter --"

"Not -- he's *inhuman* --"

"You *like* that --"

"I feared -- I feared so much. I lied to him, avoided him, insulted him, kept my -- my *distance* --"

"Jesus, big guy --"

"The Superman -- the Superman from our universe had so *little* of me --"

"*Stop*," Harvey growls, and it's the snap of his cross-examination voice, demanding and demanding of *attention*.

Bruce stills his hips and tries to calm his breathing -- "I'm listening --"

"Don't go feeling guilty. Don't -- don't go changing your *mind*, Bruce," and Harvey's voice is low, *stern* --

Bruce groans and darts in for a kiss, another -- 

Harvey turns his head --

"*Please* --"

"Don't change your --"

"I *won't*, Harv. I -- I *can't*," Bruce says, and the feeling of weakness --

The rush of shame --

They are nothing compared to the *wonder* in Harvey's eyes, the hope and pleasure -- "You want this for me --"

"Always -- so *much* --" And Harvey twists the hand not holding the lubricant free and cups Bruce's face, *pulls* him in for another kiss, so deep and *firm* --

Bruce moans into Harvey's mouth and begins to grind, to *push* until Harvey is panting grunts into his mouth --

Until they twitch nearly *together* --

Harvey *bites* him --

And Bruce bites back, thinking fleetingly of Jason's obliques --

Clark's throat --

No, Harvey is more sensitive there, capable of both pleasure *and* pain. Bruce pushes Harvey's head to the side and bites him there again --

Harvey *twitches* again, cries out --

Bruce bites *harder* --

Harvey pushes his hand into Bruce's hair, grips and *tugs* --

"More. I need. *Harv* --"

"Don't stop, don't freaking -- mark me *up* --"

Bruce groans and *sucks*, holding the flesh between lips and teeth --

Biting and sucking a *path* --

Moving *with* Harvey as they grind and slide together, as Harvey moans and mutters --

*Sweats* --

"I love you," Bruce slurs against the reddening flesh of Harvey's throat. "I *need* you --"

"Yours -- part of me --ah, *fuck* --"

And Bruce knows that these thrusts are too hard, that they're not what Harvey *wants* --

Even though they please him enough to make him toss his --

His beautiful head --

Bruce kisses his mouth again, *takes* his mouth in the rhythm of his hips --

Harvey shakes his head and for a moment Bruce can only try to kiss harder, deeper --

He *needs* --

"*Bruce*!"

Bruce growls and forces himself *back* -- "I'm sorry."

Harvey pants and stares at him --

Licks his lips --

And laughs, high and -- somewhat -- hysterical. "Just like that."

"Harv?"

"That's how easy it is to get you to lose a little control?"

"You -- you saw --"

"I took you by *surprise* then, big guy. Today. Today, you saw me coming, yeah?"

Bruce breathes and swallows, strokes the rising bruises on Harvey's throat --

Harvey moans. "You don't know how long I've wanted -- but you do now, don't you?"

"If I... if I had... pushed." He can't finish the thought --

And Harvey's wince is pained and lustful at once, *hungry* -- "Need you. C'mon, the slick is warm *enough* --"

"Harv."

Harvey pants -- "Tell me."

"It's -- anything. For you --"

"Then live. And be happy. And fuck the *hell* outta me."

Bruce laughs, desperate and pleased and -- "You've always *made* me happy --"

"Ah, big guy -- ditto. *Always* -- like... like the world was real with you in it, next to me, under me -- no."

"No?"

Harvey licks his lips and pushes Bruce until he moves down between Harvey's legs. "The world was always real -- too real, sometimes. You just -- you made it warm."

"And -- the light you gave --"

"I *love* you, Bruce -- *hnh* --"

Necessary to kiss Harvey's scrotum, to lick it -- no, to mark him there, too, to make Harvey's memories of these moments as powerful as possible, as *incontrovertible* --

"Bruce, *Bruce* --"

Bruce *hums* --

"*Please*, I gotta -- I gotta know how it feels to have you *inside* me --"

And Bruce knows it's not what Harvey means, but --

"*Jesus*, what -- oh -- *oh* -- *Bruce* --"

Bruce pulls back and tries to speak, to explain himself -- he can only groan, and plead with Harvey with his eyes --

Harvey's eyes are wide, shocked -- "Who *taught* you that?"

Bruce licks his lips and shivers for the taste of Harvey's musk, for the sense-memory of his anus -- "I -- I knew about it --"

"But --"

"Superman. He... quickly erased my objections to the act. We don't --" Bruce shakes his head. "Please."

Harvey nods and stares at him for a long moment -- but then turns over onto his hands and knees, *lifts* his posterior --

"*Thank* you --"

"Don't -- don't lemme *think*, big guy --"

"No --"

"Ah, Jesus, feel you -- feel you spreading me -- *unh* --"

Bruce hums and nods, nuzzles and *kisses* --

The sweat here tastes so *different* --

And it seems as though Clark is with him, as though --

But could it be the Clark he had rejected?

Would it be terrible to hope that Harvey winds up in the same universe with *him*? And they could --

They could find something, common ground, hope --

Or Harvey could give himself time to know that world's Stephanie -- or. No. Gilda might not --

And he can't think of any of that once Harvey starts clawing at the *sheets* --

When he starts groaning, *shaking* --

He's being *pleasing* again, he is --

Bruce *grips* Harvey's buttocks and *delves*, *takes* --

"*Bruce*!"

Bruce groans and remembers the sounds Clark had made --

The way those sounds had *felt* with him here, touching him *here* --

Harvey shouts and tries to spread his legs wider, tries --

But would he have allowed this if he didn't believe their time was short? Could this have ever -- no. No, he can't --

Bruce pulls back --

Harvey grunts -- "*Please*!"

Bruce kisses him again, kisses his cleft and his lower back --

"Fuck -- fuck, I *need* --"

"Tell him -- you must -- you must *tell* whatever Bruce you find --"

"Bruce --"

"Even if you never *touch* --"

"I don't wanna *tease* --"

"Show him he isn't wrong, show him -- if he's *anything* like me it would be *enough* for him to know --"

"That -- that *one* of you got me?"

Bruce pants and kisses his way up Harvey's spine --

"God, *Bruce* --"

"It will *fill* something, something so --" Bruce shakes his head -- "I *ache*."

Harvey stiffens -- and spreads his legs still -- still *wider* --

Bruce groans and kneels up, needing --

He *grips* himself and squeezes hard, telling himself not to stroke, telling himself to feel a *different* ache --

And Harvey is looking back at him from over his shoulder --

Harvey is panting as much as *he* is --

"I love you --"

"Harv --"

"I'll tell. I'll -- God, I'll tell all of them, I'll warn them about me and I'll be honest --"

"Please --"

"I'll be *brave*, Bruce, just -- just as brave as you --"

Bruce shudders and -- he's not at all sure what to do with the reflex that causes him to yank on his scrotum rather than stroke himself for Harvey --

Beautiful *Harvey* --

"Hey, what did --"

"I -- yanked --"

"On your *sac*?"

"I'm -- very close --"

Harvey moans -- "God, I want you in my *mouth* --"

"Then --"

"*No*, open me, slick me up, you don't -- *don't* do a good job --"

"*Harv*, I --" But the shape of the bottle in his hands is different --

The curtains are fluttering --

And the bottle is warm. "Hm."

"Bruce, *what* --"

"A gift from Superman. *This* lubricant will allow for... speed."

"Uh. What -- wait, he was *here*?"

Is he still? "He is... he *monitors* the family, Harv --"

"And you're family. And -- uh. And this new slick won't make me grow two heads or anything?"

Bruce pauses to see if Clark will come back --

He strokes the small, glowing bottle and subvocalizes his thanks --

"Big guy, you kinda need to not *hesitate* for questions like that --"

"Hmm. Jason suffered no ill effects last night. And Clark spoke of using it with Dick and Tim, another human operative named Arsenal --"

"What kind of -- okay, never mind, I *don't* care that much --"

"Harv, I want. I want to see your face."

Harvey pants and hangs his head -- jerks his head up again. "I'm not -- saying no --"

"But?"

"Just -- I've never *done* this, big guy. Uh. J'onn had a few *suggestions* when I couldn't stop thinking about it --"

"Oh. I."

Harvey laughs nervously and turns over onto his back. "But that slick maybe means I won't *have* to be on my hands and knees?"

Bruce licks his lips. "I didn't -- I don't know. Harv."

"Yeah. Yeah. Look how hard I am, big guy."

Bruce takes another moment to study the darkness of Harvey's eyes, the brown lost under *black* --

But then he looks down Harvey's body, studying the flush, the shine of sweat --

The nipples which seem hard enough to *hurt* --

And his penis. His --

"My *fantasy* --"

"Mine, kneelin' right there between my legs. Look how big you are. How *thick*."

And for a moment Bruce can only feel *pride* in his body, a sense of himself as something desired -- but he *remembers*. "Harv --"

"Oh, God, Bruce, don't -- don't nut up on me now --"

"I'm sorry, but *never*?"

Harvey pants at him, stares -- "I want it. I *need* -- don't make me go without this, big guy, don't. Don't take it away from me."

Bruce grunts and *shakes* --

"You've done this. You -- Superman. And -- Tim?"

"Jason --"

"You won't *hurt* me. I know -- I know you'll be careful --"

"*Harv* --"

"God, I *need* the pain, big guy, need to feel -- I've wanted you in me for so *long*, used to -- oh, yeah, open that bottle right up, Bruce, open *me* up --"

"I -- I'll be careful --"

"And then you'll *stop* when I *tell* you to."

That -- Bruce smiles and slicks his fingers --

"That's good, that's real fucking --" Harvey spreads his legs and squeezes himself, strokes -- "That smile is *worrying* me --"

"I believe we agreed that I wouldn't let you call the shots..."

Harvey's mouth drops open --

Bruce laughs. "Perhaps... just this once?" And Bruce reaches to stroke Harvey's anus, to use the almost *excessively* slick lubricant to coat the *small* pucker --

He hadn't *thought* --

Harvey is *shaking* --

"Big guy. Big -- your *fingers*..."

"Yes, Harv --"

"They're right *there* --"

"Touching you --"

Harvey groans and squeezes his eyes shut --

Opens them and plants his feet -- "How long are you gonna tease me, Bruce?"

Bruce grunts --

"How long -- you gotta give it -- *fuck* --"

One finger, one finger only, and Harvey is already *panting*. Bruce remembers -- he will not *forget* -- Dick's instructions for taking Jason, and this --

It can't be the same, here, and he will remember *that*. Still, he can *move* his finger, he can touch and *coat* Harvey --

"Oh -- *oh* --"

"Harv..."

"Ah, God, big guy, it's already..." And Harvey shakes his head almost violently, licks his lips --

"Tell me, please tell me --"

Harvey closes his eyes and moans, arches --

"Oh, Harv..."

"I need you. I need you so *bad*, I -- *hnh* --"

The clench is too much to prepare for, too -- too *sweet* -- "Open --"

"I can't, I can't, it feels --"

"I need your *eyes* --"

Harvey groans and shudders, clenches again --

Again --

And *yells* when Bruce crooks his finger --

"*Please*, Harv --"

And Harvey opens his eyes wide -- but his focus is already absent, he -- he is *staring*, and Bruce knows he can see little but his own pleasure.

Bruce will remember Harvey's parted lips, and the way he wets them every few *seconds*.

He will remember the way Harvey pants and moans off-rhythm to Bruce's thrusts and crooks, as if he can't catch *up* to the pleasure.

He will remember the way Harvey begins to work his hips to demand faster *just* as Bruce considers slowing down to make the sensations *easier* --

"Oh, Harv..."

Harvey nods frantically and clenches --

Clenches again on *purpose* --

Sits up on his elbows and moans, wordless and high --

"You're beautiful. You're -- you were everything I *wanted* from the world --"

Harvey grunts and shakes his head --

"There was need, but I'd had years to live without what I needed. I'd -- oh, Harv, I'd forgotten *how* to want things, to want *anything* other than an end to the darkness I knew I must live in --"

"*Bruce* --"

"You gave me light, you gave me sweetness and laughter and *contact*, so much *warmth* --"

"Yours -- oh, Bruce, *please*!"

Bruce pants and breathes in the scent of sweat and musk, already overpowering the faint hints of cedar Alfred uses for long-term storage of clothes and linens --

Though it's possible that he's simply learned how to filter more effectively, more *beneficially* than he ever has before. Harvey.

Harvey who is *opening* for him after every clench, whose body is *begging* --

And it's something Bruce needs to hear *and* feel, something --

"Another, Harv --"

Harvey's nod is desperate --

The wave of his hair is *unruly* with sweat, and he lets his head fall back as Bruce pushes in with his index and middle finger -- no.

Bruce shifts closer and pushes the fingers of his free hand into Harvey's hair so he can hold him still, so he can continue staring into Harvey's eyes --

Studying his -- blush, not flush, not this time --

"It's all right --"

Harvey's laugh is explosive, and no more bright than his *drugged* smile -- "That. That so, big guy? You gonna soothe me into taking you -- *ohn* --"

Bruce eases the crook of his fingers. "I don't think I can manage that, Harv."

"Do. Do what you *want* --"

"I *am* --"

"Ah, God, thought about -- thought about you just takin' me *over*, makin' me your boy --"

Bruce grunts and thrusts faster --

And Harvey pants and blinks, stares -- "Bruce..."

"Do you *like* --"

Harvey nods against the pull on his hair, arches for more -- "So -- so much -- never thought this could feel *easy* --"

"It's -- the lubricant --"

"I don't *care*," Harvey says, laughing and gasping, *clenching* once more -- "Feel -- more --"

"Not -- not yet --"

"You're gonna make me come so *hard* --"

"I *want* that --"

"Gonna -- gonna make me scream for you, give it up --"

"Harv --"

"*Please*, Bruce!"

Bruce growls and crooks his fingers for Harvey's shout, doing it over and over until Harvey's penis is twitching constantly, spattering his abdomen with pre-ejaculate --

He looks so flushed, so *ready* --

"God -- *God* --"

"Harv --"

"Slow -- no, wait, *don't* slow down --"

Bruce cups Harvey's scrotum and squeezes --

"*Nnh* -- oh, Jesus, Bruce, *fuck*, c'mon, open me *up* more --"

"You -- you're loosening --"

"More, please *more* -- *unh* -- oh, fuck me --"

"Yes, Harv --"

"Please, please, please --" And he keeps saying it, keeps *chanting* it as he rocks into Bruce's thrusts, as he *tries* to toss his head --

"*Beautiful* --"

"Fantasy -- such -- *please*!" And Harvey's focus comes back for a sweet and *hungry* moment --

They stare into each other as Bruce *thrusts* --

They stare and they know desire, know *need*, and so Bruce can only nod as he pulls out --

As he pours lubricant directly on his penis while Harvey winces --

While Harvey tries to spread himself still *wider* --

"Comfort -- I need --"

"I need *you* -- oh, *fuck* --"

"I. I can *stop*," Bruce says, and knows that it's true only because he hasn't truly *begun* -- as opposed to merely pressing the head of his penis against Harvey's anus --

"Don't." Harvey swallows audibly and groans --

"Harv --"

"In me, you gotta --" Harvey shakes his head and reaches to tug Bruce's other hand out of his hair --

"Where -- I must touch you --"

"How. How'd you hold onto the tough guy?"

Bruce licks his lips -- "His hips --"

"You liked that?"

"Very. Very much."

Harvey *bites* his lip. "Never felt that. Big -- big hands --" Harvey moans and pushes Bruce's hand to his hip --

Bruce squeezes --

And Harvey makes a low, animal sound and squeezes his eyes shut, *struggles* --

"Harv --"

"Never -- it doesn't stop, big guy. It." And Harvey laughs and opens his eyes again, looking rueful and dazed --

"You --"

"*You*," Harvey says, and settles back on his elbows. "You're workin' me over, Bruce. You -- I thought I already *knew* how much I could need you --"

Bruce squeezes convulsively, Harvey's hip and his own penis --

They groan *together* --

"Harv, I need. I need *touch* --"

"Lemme touch you all over, lemme -- oh, God. Oh -- Bruce --"

"Tell me -- tell me to *stop* --"

"I *can't*, I can't -- oh, *please*," Harvey says, and reaches for him, stretches his long, graceful fingers --

Bruce knows Harvey doesn't *want* to lose Bruce's hand on his hip, and so the only option is to let go of himself, to --

It feels like it would lead, somehow, to his penis *rebelling*, forcing its way into Harvey much more quickly, much more roughly --

He's so smooth, so *hot* --

"*Bruce*!"

Bruce cries out and lets go of himself, twines his fingers with Harvey's --

Cries out again for the feel of himself twitching *as* he continues to push in --

So --

Harvey squeezes Bruce's hand *hard* --

Bruce squeezes Harvey's *hip* --

And they are together in their cries, in this -- this beautiful moment --

Harvey looks as wounded as Bruce feels, but only if it could be pleasurable, wonderful --

"I *love* you --"

"*You* --"

"C'mon, c'mon, do me, *do* me --"

"I'm almost --"

"I'm shaking -- I can't *move* --"

"Oh, *Harv* --"

"Please --"

"So -- let me --"

"*Please*!"

Bruce growls and speeds himself --

Harvey *shouts* --

And Bruce will remember how young Harvey looks in this moment --

And he will remember the way the ache only builds, only rises --

And he will remember Harvey's *shocked* look as he clenches --

As he stares into Bruce as if *Bruce* has answers, wisdom, knowledge beyond --

Beyond the basic facts of -- no. This is *fundamental*, foundational, something --

Something on which all other things can be *built*. He is *moving* for Harvey, for his first love, his friend --

"*Brother* --"

Harvey jerks and clenches --

Bruce groans and shudders as he thrusts, as --

He brings their clenched hands down to Harvey's other hip, he presses Harvey's hand there so he can hold, grip --

"Bruce -- oh, fuck, you *got* me --"

"*Yes*, Harv --"

"Don't -- I need you, I *need* you --"

"*Harv* --"

"We can be --*nnh* --"

"*Tell* me --"

Harvey shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut once more, moves and obviously tries to move in *rhythm*, to stay with him, rise --

"Harv. *Harv* --"

Harvey shouts again and shudders as if he's *ill*, jerking to a stop --

Flexing *open* around Bruce just as if he was pulling out --

He can't *not* break rhythm, he must --

Bruce shoves deep and *growls* for Harvey's clench --

Harvey's increasingly *desperate* cries --

"Tell me *everything* --"

"*Happy*, Bruce! I'll do -- I'll do anything to know you're happy, stay *happy* --"

"*You* --"

"*Harder*!"

And Bruce gasps and tries to keep his body from following orders, from doing --

But Harvey's eyes are open again, Harvey is pleading --

And Bruce nods and *lifts* Harvey's hips --

"*Fuck* --"

*Holds* them --

"Oh, God -- oh, *Bruce*!"

And now his thrusts are forceful, *heavy* things. It's nothing like what he was giving to Jason, but it still seems as if it ought to be too much --

He can't stop. He can't --

Harvey cries out again and yanks his hand out from under Bruce's own, takes himself in hand --

Cries out *again* --

But he never looks away from Bruce's eyes, even when he starts to stroke. He *holds* Bruce, holds them both --

There is no --
 
"I can't *stop*," Bruce shouts, and wants to apologize for doing so in Harvey's face, wants the ability to move beyond his body's hungers --

*Needs* --

"*Harv* --!"

But Harvey's expression speaks of pleasure so great it *surpasses* pain, speaks of -- of a kind of desperate trance --

No, he can still see, he can --

Bruce *feels* seen, feels --

Harvey is wincing and stroking himself so hard --

Faster than Bruce's thrusts --

But it doesn't have to be that way. It --

Bruce sucks in a breath and growls it out, tightens his grip on Harvey's hips so he can hold him absolutely still --

Perfect for his thrusts --

Perfect for their groans and *yells* --

"Gonna -- gonna do it --"

"Harv --"

"Oh, Jesus, Jesus, just don't -- I *feel* you --"

"You are -- I feel --" Bruce growls again and shakes his head, pleads with his mind for the words to make this correct, make this as true for his mind as it is --

No, there is no falsehood in this. There could never *be* --

"*Harv*."

"Bruce -- Bruce --"

"*Come* for me --"

"*Fuck* --"

"I use -- you *taught* me the use of that word --"

"*Hnh* -- oh, Jesus, that's so *dirty* --"

And Bruce is shocked by the laugh that bursts out of him for that --

Bruce gasps and *shakes* --

Clutches and -- and *ruts* --

"Oh, yeah, yeah -- nn -- *Bruce*!"

"*Yes*, Harv --" But he doesn't manage to get all of that out before Harvey is clenching and shuddering and grunting and *ejaculating* --

He spatters his chest and Bruce's --

Bruce lets go of Harvey's left hip so he can twine their hands together again, so he can squeeze and *pump* --

Harvey *sobs* something incoherent and continues to ejaculate --

His clenches are so --

"Need -- *need* --"

"What -- *tell* me, Harv --"

"Hands and knees, c'mon flip -- *unh* -- God, I wasn't *ready* for you to pull out --"

Bruce shudders -- "I'm sorry --"

"No, no --" Harvey shakes his head and strokes Bruce's mouth with his slick fingers, so warm and salt --

Bruce takes three of them into his mouth and sucks hard, licks and *grips* Harvey's wrist --

Reaches to stroke himself --

"*No*, Bruce!"

Bruce grunts around Harvey's fingers and whimpers, *pleads* with all of himself --

And Harvey pants and shudders -- "Can't -- can't catch my *breath* --"

Bruce nods and sucks again --

Harvey pulls his fingers *away* --

"*Please* --"

"*In* me. And -- God, you'll come in me, give me that, *show* me that -- oh, *yeah* --"

"You -- you like my *strength* --"

"Love it, love *you*," and Harvey clutches at the sheets and braces himself on his hands and knees --

And then loses seemingly every bit of tension he *has* when Bruce kisses the back of his neck --

A path down his spine --

He *moans* -- "You're too *hard* for this!"

"Not -- not to *love* --"

"Oh, God, Jesus, *Bruce* --"

"I won't -- I won't have *control* when I enter you again --"

"*Show* me!"

Bruce groans and licks *up* Harvey's spine -- but Harvey is growing tense again, needing without having --

"No," Bruce says, and pulls back --

"*Bruce* -- oh -- oh, one -- one *push* --"

"Yes --"

"One -- you're *in* me --"

"*Yes* --"

"*Again*," Harvey says, and he's laughing, happy --

"You --" Bruce begins to thrust because he must, because -- "Your *joy* --"

Harvey clenches and *nods* --

"*Harv*!"

"Oh -- God, that's gonna *hurt* -- don't *stop* --"

"I *can't* --"

"*Good*," Harvey says, laughing again and rocking --

Rocking back *against* him --

"Can't -- can't believe I'm *taking* you --"

"*Harv* --"

"Can't believe you feel this *good*, big guy --"

"Always -- I've always *wanted* --"

"Mine, my *brother* --"

Bruce groans and clutches Harvey's hips once more, but he can keep himself from stilling them, from --

"No one *like* you, Bruce --"

"*You* --"

"Just -- just a guy --" And Harvey *croons* a moan and clenches again --

"*Hnh* --"

Again --

"Oh, *Harv*, *please*!"

"Please, yeah, please *yourself* --"

And it feels like the growl tears itself out of him, like he's nothing but a bestial *urge* --

"Jesus, *yes*, do it, *do* it --"

And that's when Bruce realizes that he *is* holding Harvey still, that he's shoving himself in --

Seemingly deeper with every --

Pulling out even just to thrust *again* is enough to make him cry out --

"Say it, say you *love* me --"

"Harv -- *love* --"

"I feel it, I could always *feel* it --"

"*Love* --"

"I could -- like a glow I could live in, something -- something so *clean* --"

Bruce hears himself sob and covers Harvey, flattens him to the bed the way Clark had done to him --

And he will remember *this* gasp --

And he will remember that -- that he doesn't know which of them --

They're both *shaking* --

"Never -- I'll never *forget*, Bruce!"

And Bruce does his best to edit away the sound of his own groans, helpless and needy things that they are --

They keep him from *Harvey* --

He tries --

He can't stop the *slam* of his hips --

He is *aware* that Harvey can't possibly be *breathing* deeply, and it seems as though there's a moment when he can ease it, pull back --

But then he's losing himself, losing --

Giving himself over to something --

Greater --

Something of light and heat and --

This groan, he will remember *this* groan, because Harvey sounds *triumphant* --

And Bruce feels himself *burnt* by it, feels --

There's nothing but *pleasure*, and he wants to be able to fight it, to get back to a place where he can know *Harvey's* experience of this --

The pleasure keeps rising --

He's shouting himself *hoarse* --

And he's falling back into himself with a feeling which makes Bruce want to write something of a treatise around the concept of the perfect brutality of loss.

"Oh, *Bruce*..."

But there is a pang --

And Bruce knows that the real brutality will only come later. Much later, *please* --

Harvey takes a *strained* breath --

Bruce pushes up onto his hands --

"Oh -- wasn't ready for *that*," Harvey says, and laughs. His cheek is flushed and his eyelashes are slightly wet --

His smile is so -- "Harv..."

"Oh, what -- heh. I know what," and Harvey wags a finger at him. "No depression. Not now."

"I -- you can... control that?"

"Hell, no. Not all the time, anyway --"

"But... now?"

Harvey sighs and shivers. "You're inside me, big guy."

"Yes. Yes, I..." Bruce lowers himself enough to kiss the back of Harvey's neck --

Harvey shivers again. "You're inside me, and pretty soon we're gonna be taking up *slightly* more space in this huge freaking bed --"

"Not. Not too much --"

"No, *not* too much, because I've been assured by people who know that cuddle is *key* at times like this --"

"You're *happy*."

Harvey laughs ruefully. "And I should deal with the fact that that was an accusation?"

Oh. "No. No, I -- I'm sorry --"

"Shh, shh. I -- you ever think it's funny? The thing where Apollo was kind of grim a lot of the time, but Dionysos was the partier? Ah, well, he did have the wine... I don't know what I'm talking about --"

"Brother..."

Harvey sighs and smiles a quieter smile. "Be happy for me, big guy. Be happy *with* me."

"We. We had something --"

"*Have* something."

Bruce swallows and -- he rolls them onto their sides --

"Whoa -- hey --"

"Is this -- I'm sorry -- "

"It's fine, big guy. Better than," Harvey says, and reaches back to pat Bruce's hip and stroke his thigh --

"Every. Every touch..." Bruce shakes his head and pushes his right arm beneath Harvey's head and clutches him with the left --

"Don't think about the end."

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut.

"Don't -- ah, big guy, I think I can *feel* that."

"You could -- you always *knew* me --"

"I always *needed* you. And -- and I'm thinking... there are a lot of things you can fix here."

"Harv?"

Harvey's laugh is quiet and a little cracked. "Ah, hell, maybe -- maybe I know what you mean when you say you want to give the Bruce in whatever universe I wind up in hope --"

"*Completion*."

Harvey swallows. "Yeah. Yeah. The Harvey in this world..."

Oh...

"He knows what real loss is. He knows -- he's gotta think there's nothing there for him but fucked-up ideas of revenge and -- and all that other crap. He's gotta -- are you hearing me?"

"You believe.... you believe he'll leap at the chance *for* a second chance."

"If he's anything *like* me -- and J'onn says he is and he would *know* -- God, Bruce, I have to -- no. *We* have to believe in hope, no matter what anyone else says. No matter what else *happens* -- oof."

"I'm sorry."

"I note that you're not loosening your grip, big guy," Harvey says, and the smile in his voice is so bright, so *beautiful* --

"The first time you hugged me, I had to leave the room."

"I -- heh. I remember. You didn't say a *word*. You -- no, tell me --"

"I went to the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and wept as quietly as I could as I tried to understand everything I was feeling --"

"Oh, *Bruce* --"

"I waited. I waited until I had control over myself, and until I could be sure that my emotions around you would never *truly* be controlled, at all..." Bruce swallows. "You. You remember --"

"You came back and asked me for another hug. I thought -- I don't know what I thought."

"You... you looked into my eyes."

"Yeah. Yeah," Harvey says, and *squeezes* Bruce's thigh. "Everything was in them. Hunger, fear, lust, shame, grief... part of me wanted to run."

"I understand --"

"Most of me wanted to kiss you. Just -- kiss you until everything I felt was everything *you* felt. Somehow," and Harvey laughs. "That wasn't the first time."

"You. You held me so tightly --"

"Had to. Just -- had to. Did you. Did you know you wanted me then?"

Bruce kisses Harvey's shoulder. "I knew I wanted to feel your strong arms around me for hours. I knew I wanted to press my nose to your throat --"

Harvey takes a sharp breath. "But... not the rest?"

Bruce surprises himself with a smile. "I was a very *dim* adolescent, Harv."

"That --" Harvey snickers. "Loved that about you, too."

Bruce -- hums. "I must admit, I could never quite understand that."

"Ah, big guy, it made me feel *special*. And *useful*. And -- I don't think anyone ever really needed me before you did."

Bruce loosens his hold enough to stroke Harvey's chest. "The world is full of the ignorant."

"You got that right. And -- ah. Okay, maybe my mom needed me once upon a time? I don't know. I don't know. I still don't have too many *clear* memories of her."

"They'll come back --"

"They sure will. And I'll even be ready for 'em, thanks to J'onn. But you... you were like..." Harvey shakes his head. "I took a good hard look at myself when I was fourteen and I realized that it wasn't just a matter of it being *possible* for me to make you my drug, but that it had already *happened*. And I was angry for a *while* about that -- but mostly I was happy to be in that old bastard's apartment so I didn't have to show *you* that anger. Even when it got bad, big guy, even when I was *yelling* at myself about you... I still *needed* to get back to you."

Bruce takes a deep breath. "I. I wish --"

"That you could've ignored your own yelling voices better?"

"*Yes*."

"Ah, Bruce... no regrets."

"Harv, that's not *possible*."

"It is, though. I *promise* it is, because all you have to do -- all *I* had to do -- was think about how good this feels. Your dick in my ass, your scent in my nose, your voice in my *ear* and everything else. *Everything* else. Because it wouldn't have been the same without everything that came before. And you know that *now*, don't you?"

"'Sometimes the end of the world isn't so bad.'"

"*Exactly*. And that was... Jason? No, wait, there'd be about six curses in there if it was. Dick, right?"

Bruce laughs softly. "Yes. When he said it, I was horrified."

"You know better now."

Bruce closes his eyes and squeezes Harvey again. "Yes, I do."

"So you *are* gonna lay up here and be happy with me like a *good* ultraviolent vigilante?"

"Yes, Harv."

"Good man," Harvey says, in an impression of their late headmaster that truly --

Hm.

Harvey snickers. "I didn't think you *could* soften that fast, big guy."

"Perhaps..."

"Yeah?"

"Perhaps we could see what sorts of things cause the opposite reaction...?"

"Heh. I think I can manage that."

*

"Little wing, what's your twenty?"

Jason gets a gauntleted hand around Tink's throat so *he* -- he was pretty damned clear about that tonight -- doesn't get any ideas about moving, and pulls out of the kiss. "Uh. Half on top of Tink on the roof of the Klein building. What's up?"

Dick snorts. "Starling."

"Hey, we did *good* justice tonight and everything --"

"Can Tink talk?"

Tink -- licks his lips. He *doesn't* blow a kiss, though, so Jason keeps his hand right where it is.

"Not right now he can't."

"God, I love you guys --"

"Aww --"

"-- but it's time to head home."

Jason blinks. "Seriously?"

"The word came in two minutes ago. Prime is setting up a multiversal portal over by the blast areas while we speak."

"*Fuck*. Is B --"

"Riding home with Lark in the passenger seat... and he's already made his promises."

"I -- I know that."

Dick's laugh is soft and full of *old* hurt. "And I know *that*. Tear it up, little wing. I'll see you both in twenty-five."

"Got it," Jason says, and releases *Tim's* throat, because everything about him is a little quieter, a little younger -- "Starling out."

They run themselves off the roof and fly, fast and professional-like until they get to the alley with their bikes, at which point Tim grabs his helmet off his own bike and gets on behind Jason, since he's just not big enough for a truly *powerful* bike of his own. They ride --

They ride, and Jason tries to figure out how his world -- *their* world -- had changed so *fast*.

It's only been a few *days* --

But they all already knew how *fast* the world can change --

*But* -- God, it hadn't felt this huge after the damned *'quake*. He hadn't felt like a new person with a whole new *family* then, and --

And. He's not gonna freak himself out. He's not gonna lose it *now*, even if Bruce *does* decide to break his promises --

He'd spent all *day* with Harvey --

"It would be --" And Tim cuts himself off with a cough. He --

"Hey, your throat okay?"

"Just... tight. I'm all right. And -- I was saying something."

"Tell me," Jason says, and does his best to swerve around a *crack* that spreads two-thirds of the way across Moench Avenue.

"It -- all right. I'm just going to -- ah."

"It's okay, baby --"

"It would be one thing if it was -- only me."

"There's no such *thing* as only --"

"*Wait*, Starling. I -- all right?"

Jason frowns and focuses. "I'm listening."

"He wouldn't just be leaving me. He'd be leaving Robin, and Lark, and Prime, and *you*. And that's not... possible."

That warm feeling --

That *hurt* --

And Jason can damned well suck it up, because he's *not* a jealous asshole. At least, he doesn't have to act like one. "He said. He totally thought about taking you with him. Uh -- back when --"

"Um!" And Tim stiffens against him, squeezes hard -- breathes. "When he still -- thought he'd go. I. Um. I don't know what to say to that."

Jason laughs painfully --

"I mean! I wouldn't go."

"Even if he needed you *real* bad, baby?"

"He needs *all* of us! And -- and I need *you*."

"You'll always have me," Jason says, and flashing lights in the distance say it's time to cut through the park. "Even if you --"

"I won't *leave* you!"

"I --"

"I will not leave," *Bruce* says over the channel.

Jason's pretty sure they're *all* jumping a little for that. He should be paying attention to whatever word's coming in from the *Cave* -- wait. "Wait."

"Yes, Starling?"

"How much is Lark threatening you right now?"

Bruce -- laughs. Quiet, but still. "I'm going to have an impressive bruise on my jaw... but that was from earlier, when I complimented her on her form after a brief battle with several drug dealers working for the West .44s."

Dick *snorts*. "Lark."

"He sounded *pervy* about it!"

Tim hums. "*Were* you feeling... aroused, Batman...?"

"All night --" And that was a grunt like he'd taken a *good* hit, but Bruce is armored even more than *he* is.

"Lark --"

"I got him in the armpit."

"*Nice* --"

"Well. He *let* me get him there."

And Bruce grunts again --

"Stop that!" And Lark sounds pissy and gorgeous and *happy* --

And Bruce hums again. "Terribly sorry. Though I wonder if I should be as... disagreeable with you as I am with... Cardinal."

*Tink* shifts in *that* way -- "Hnn."

"What does that mean -- *yeep* -- okay, he's uh. He's kinda got me," Steph says, and Jason thinks he can *hear* a blush --

And Dick's laugh sounds a lot happier than it had just a minute ago. "Autopilot on...?"

"Yes," Bruce says, only that *must* be the Batman-is-about-to-do-something-*mean* voice --

And Steph yeeps again --

And Bruce hums. "Perhaps... I'll keep this in mind," and if Bruce *isn't* showing his teeth, Jason will skip chili dogs for a *month* --

Especially if he can be the *meat* on that sandwich --

Especially if Steph growls like *that* -- but then she snorts. "Oh, fuck. Uh. Let go?"

"Are you --"

"I'm sure!"

"Of course," Bruce says, and he even sounds smooth and well-behaved again --

And Steph blows out a breath. "Um. I just... I just think B-- I think Batman should be thinking about other things right now."

Oh -- that. And there's silence --

A whole *lot* of silence except for the growl of Jason's bike and distant sirens --

"Batman..."

"Yes, Robin."

"We're here."

More silence --

"We're *all* here, B."

"Hell, yeah, we are --"

"We... hnn." And Tink moves against him in *just* the right way to suggest a hair-toss. "You might say you're stuck with us, Daddy."

And Dick and Steph snort at just about the same time --

But Bruce just says "please. Always," and it sits there all heavy and real and -- yeah.

"Not goin' anywhere. This is our home."

"And *yours*, too, Spooky. Remember that and I won't have to beat your ass so much," Steph says, and Jason *knows* that grin is sunny --

"I... hm."

"*What*?"

"I have begun to wonder if, perhaps, it might not be more pleasurable to forget," Bruce says, joking around and *trying*, really *trying* --

He always did learn things... quickly.

Whoa --

My apologies. I am quite near to your current position.

Uh -- oh. Okay. *Where*?

Please continue to focus on your driving.

Shit -- Jason opens his eyes again --

He doesn't remember *closing* them --

But he'd only drifted a couple of inches to the left. He's good. He -- hey.

Yes, Jason?

Why don't you give me a suggestion or something that'll let me keep my eyes and ears a little open while we're doing this?

J'onn's smile feels a lot like having his shoulders rubbed by someone with big, strong hands --

For a *while* --

It's so *warm* --

A small distraction to hide what I was doing from you.

Uh.

The 'suggestion' required the opening of several pathways in your mind which had been closed. Specifically, you are now slightly more likely than you had been to devote only partial attention to a conversation with someone you care about.

Jason frowns. I don't wanna be an asshole, J'onn --

I assure you, the likelihood will only be noticeable at times when you feel... threatened.

Which -- okay, that's useful.

And something his brothers *and* Steph could do naturally --

And something he'd given up on when his mother had kicked his father out for the last time. Jason winces --

J'onn hugs him from the *inside* --

And Tim hugs him from the outside -- no way he didn't feel Jason tense.

"I'm okay, baby, just talking to Green Machine --"

And Dick laughs again. "Talking? Or 'talking'?"

Steph coughs. "I can't believe -- what's the protocol -- oh, fuck it. Hi, Martian Manhunter!"

Please offer my greetings and wishes for further communication to Skylark.

You got it. "He says hi right back, babe, and that he'd love to talk to you more."

"Well -- cool. Wait, he means *actual* talking right?"

J'onn smiles in his head --

And Ma'ena is swaying in the air like something which can't decide whether to be a cobra, a knife-fighter, or a severed *live wire*.

So maybe Jason is maybe thinking about Steph dancing like a *boxer* --

"*Star*!"

"Uh! No. I mean. We're not... talking about that?"

I believe that you could have been more convincing than that.

Considering how much his family is *laughing* at him --

God, even *Bruce* --

"Hey, I'm a teenaged boy!"

"And teenaged boys are freaking *hilarious*," Steph says, and giggles. "Back me up, Tink."

"Certainly I find them to be a near-endless source of entertainment," and he scratches at Jason's abs through the armor --

"Damned right. Now let's laugh at Batman for how entertaining *he* finds teenaged boys -- *yeep* -- oh. You didn't actually goose me. Hunh."

Dick coughs. "He pseudo-goosed you, didn't he."

"He was off by like a *millimeter*!"

"I didn't want to assume," Bruce says, and the laugh is still in his voice --

Every moment of hearing such things is... And the rest isn't in words. It's watching Tiq wrestling with Ma'ena and with his friends --

It's watching P'inn's eyes widen and flare nearly amber with excitement --

Diana hugging Clark hard enough to make him cough out his air --

Barry blushing --

An older Bruce smiling wryly --

Gripping J'onn's forearm --

Thinking-sending-offering --

(Welcome.)

And that *was* Bruce's voice, but it was also Batman's. It was older, rougher, more *sure* --

And it was a memory.

He had just agreed to become an official member of the League, and had given us his identity.

And given you -- access.

Something deeper than that. More... profound.

Aw, man, you should be talking to *him*.

I did try. At present, he is holding a large amount of himself apart.

He's *laughing* -- shit. *Shit*. Is he gonna rabbit?

I do not think so, Jason, but I cannot be sure of such things without better access to his mind.

*Fuck* --

I *am*, however, sure that he never broke a promise.

The one *you* knew --

You need him now.

I -- what -- *no* --

Jason.

*Damn* it --

I recommend that you let him see that. All of you.

Are you telling --

Yes. And J'onn is definitely showing his teeth again. Heh.

How *much* is the rest of the League pressuring you to pressure *us*?

Most of that... attention is falling on Clark.

Jason nods thoughtfully, inside and out, and slows down just enough to make blowing through a knot of dealers *only* 'hideously painful and potentially maiming', as opposed to 'definitely fatal.'

Very good.

Hey, thanks. Jason checks on what he's hearing from *outside* his head --

Dick is telling Bruce and Steph a *barely* edited -- code names, nothing else changed -- version of the story about the *first* time the Titans were dosed with a drug that killed their inhibitions. *Jason* had first gotten the story from Gar, and he'd damned well brought it right back home to Tim --

Who is humming along with the story *while* clawing at Jason's abs through the armor.

Nice. Jason shifts enough to press against Tim a little --

Focuses enough to see that his driving is still perfect --

How long before I'm out of your range, Green Machine?

One and one half minutes, at that speed.

Meaning he's staying somewhere *near* the park, which is a little higher-rent than what he would've expected for 'John Jones.'

And J'onn's laugh kind of bubbles through him. Everyone on the League with a secret identity found themselves rather wealthier than they had ever expected to be after Bruce shared his identity. He told me, later, that it was one of the reasons why he had chosen to do so, since he had not previously found a way to enrich us which couldn't be traced.

Hunh. Isn't it possible to do that kind of thing behind a million cut-outs?

I believe Bruce could not help thinking about the acumen and determination of people like... Owl.

Heh. Okay, there's that.

And they're over the bridge and riding, riding --

And there's a touch, soft and warm, on the back of his neck.

I like that.

As do I, J'onn says, but his voice is quiet and hazy, like something remembered in a dream --

He's almost out of range. He -- come visit as soon as you can, yeah?

Ye--

Nothing.

Jason shivers a little and heads deeper into the suburbs, listening with half an ear to Dick making a life-threatening -- and *cock*-threatening -- poisoning sound like fun and games --

To Steph talking about driving nails through her nightstick just in *case* she has to deal with anything like that --

To Tim pointing out that she might *enjoy* herself too much to *use* it --

To Bruce humming every once in a while just like he *isn't* holding himself back. Just --

He can't. "B."

"Yes, Starling?"

And Jason can feel Dick staring at him from a few miles *that* way --

And he can feel Tim tensing up just a *little* --

"Manhunter said you're holding back."

*Silence* --

Until Dick sucks in a breath. "*Brother*."

And Bruce grunts. "I'm not -- I will have no secrets from you. Any of you."

Tim growls. "Then *talk*!"

"I am..." Bruce's laugh this time is as hurt as Dick's had been at first, but there's still a lot of humor in it. "I am trying very hard not to weep. Only. Only that."

Oh. Well -- fuck.

Another laugh. "Does it seem so strange? Have I been so stoic? So... no. I will not use the word 'strong' in this way. I have learned, in ways both terrible and transcendent, that I was wrong to ever use it that way. I... please. I ask only for time."

"You --"

"You can get a lot more than that, brother," Dick says, and his voice is rough. He's got his own tears --

And Bruce takes a shuddering breath. "Perhaps -- no. I will remember this when the time comes. For now... for now, I must fill myself with everything I am about to lose."

Jason bites his lip --

"I'm -- sorry," Tim says. "I should've --"

"No," Bruce says. "You have every reason to doubt me. I understand -- oh. Thank you, Skylark."

Jason blinks. "What are you doing, babe?"

"Um. Rubbing his -- armpit."

Dick's snort sounds *painful* --

"It's the only unarmored part I can *reach*!"

Bruce laughs again, and it sounds thick -- but also pleased. "I assure you that I am also doing my level best not to sweat."

And *that* leads into talk about meditation techniques, which is actually interesting to the parts of him which aren't keyed-up and fucking *needy* --

And Bruce pulls up behind him once they hit the back roads. Jason pours it on just to piss off the neighbors a little --

Just to get *home* --

And they're there, pulling into their respective parking spaces --

And Harvey steps out of the shadows with a rueful little smile, a scared little smile, a *happy* smile --

Fucking --

Jason steps off the bike and just -- takes his turn, walking up to Harvey and hauling him into a hug because he *can* --

"Hey -- well, all right, tough guy, *this* I can do," he says, and Jason can *hear* the surprise in his voice --

And he can hear all the everything else that's gotta be making Bruce a little slow right now. Still --

There has to be fucking *something* he can *say* --

"You okay?"

Jason laughs a little helplessly and pulls back. "I -- uh. Yeah? Let's go with 'yeah.'"

Harvey's smile *quirks* a little -- and then settles into something soft and warm. "I'm not forgetting you anytime soon, Jason. *Or* you," he says, and turns to Tim, who's standing there looking like he's recording Harvey with the cameras *always* humming behind his eyes.

Tim smiles ruefully -- and then not ruefully at *all* before he *presents* his hand. "See that you don't."

Harvey coughs and snorts -- but he recovers quick enough, and bends over and *pecks* the back of Tink's gauntlet.

Tink hums and kind of *rolls* his hips a little -- you can't call that a switch -- wait.

Jason takes a closer look --

*Thinks* about it --

Her hips. She's rolling *her* hips, and planting her hands on them --

And Harvey is looking a little terrified --

And Bruce is out of the car. So.

Jason lifts his little sister into his arms -- he's not sure, but he *thinks* only little *brothers* get the scruff-of-the-neck treatment --

"*Jay* --"

"Nuh-uh, baby. *This* way," Jason says, and starts carrying Tim toward the blast area... after giving Steph enough time to shake Harvey's hand -- just like she wouldn't rather be slapping his ass -- and join them.

"I don't know if I want you to carry *me* that way or not, Star."

Jason opens his mouth --

"*I* don't know if I want him to carry me this way!"

"You totally do, baby. You were *asking* for it," Jason says -- but the nerve-strike doesn't come. Hunh. Jason looks down --

And Tim and Steph are sharing a look that has a lot of... something in it. He's not sure what.

"Gonna share?"

"Oh -- it's only --"

Steph sighs and yanks on her ponytail. "I don't think I'm ready to see Harvey gone, guys."

"I -- that," Tim says, and smiles painfully before wrapping her arms around Jason's neck and kissing his cheek.

"I think we're allowed not to think about it --"

"We are *not*, Jay!"

"*Yet*. I was gonna say *yet*," Jason says, and squeezes Tim a little harder. "I mean, we *have* to talk about it, but I think if we kinda save it up until we're talking to Bruce --"

"We can give him the chance -- and excuse -- to talk about him at length," Tim says, and nods. "I like that."

"He doesn't need an *excuse*, Tim!"

"I know that!"

"*You* don't need an excuse, either!"

And Jason waits --

Shares his *own* look with Steph --

Watches Tim's expression get fucking *murderous* --

"Oh, is this for me?" And Clark is right there, smiling with his arms out for Tim.

Jason raises his eyebrows at Tim --

"I like Clark better right now," she says, twisting free --

And Clark is holding her before she can even drop, so Jason picks up Steph --

"*Jay*!"

"Hey, you gotta see how you feel about this position," Jason says, and walks them a little closer to the big, staticky, square black portal-looking thing --

"Gah, no, put me down!"

"You don't like --"

"It's making my *hair* stand up!"

And Jason's hair is a little too thick for that, but he can still feel -- yeah.

He puts Steph down again and she moves toward Tim and Clark. And --

Jason takes another step closer to the machine --

And it immediately starts humming --

"Uh. Chester --"

There's a pacifier in his mouth --

And Clark cradles Tim in one arm and tugs Jason just a little further away from the machine. "It tends to respond to proximity with... ah..." And he nods toward the staticky part.

Which is showing a Jason wearing a weird red domino and holding two fucking guns like he plans to use them --

And then a Jason with fucking *strawberry-blond* hair making the uneven bars his bitch even though Jason is only *barely* good enough not to humiliate himself on those things --

And a Jason making out with a Tim, which is fine -- great, even -- though he's not sure how he feels about the fact that the Tim is dressed like freaking *Batgirl* --

And a Jason fucking the *life* out of *Talia* of all people --

Jason makes a noise around his pacifier --

Yanks it out --

"Okay, make it stop. *Please* make it --"

"Perhaps another two feet or so back? It stopped showing *me* alternate versions of myself when I was standing where you are now."

Jason *scrambles* back --

It's black again --

But not before Jason gets a good, long look at his seriously broken and *obviously* dead body on the motherfucking *ground* --

Steph slaps him --

"*Hey* --"

"Your dick is nowhere *near* as funny-looking as every other guy's."

Jason blinks -- that *does* make him feel better. "Hey, thanks."

"Uh, hunh," and she turns to stare at Clark. "Do we even wanna *know* what it showed *you*?"

Clark winces. "Given the fact that I find myself wishing that my memory wasn't quite so perfect... I'd have to say no, Stephanie."

Tim frowns. "I think... hm. If the machine is set to respond to whoever stands in front of it --"

"Ah -- not quite that. I spoke too simplistically," Clark says. "We will not be kidnapping this universe's Gilda Baines to stand in front of this machine and -- well. The machine -- and the machine's supply of nth metal -- responds to human and, apparently, human-*like* brains with that which the individual in question most wants to see. This is, as you know, what gives Carter his facility over his arms and armor --"

"Uh."

Clark smiles gently. "Yes, I know you did not wish to see your selves... well. I didn't want to see *my* selves that way, either. But I was... curious."

And so was he. Fuck. "You think Harvey's just gonna focus on Gilda and *wham*, she'll be there?"

"If that doesn't work, Ray had other ideas. Including something which would allow more control over what universe is shown -- and chosen."

"But we're not waiting for that?" And Dick melts out of the shadows just like freaking *that* --

Jason sighs and copes.

Clark inclines his head to Dick. "We may have to... but Ray's estimates about how quickly he could make that work were... less than optimistic."

Dick frowns and nods, and then turns to look at Steph and Tim. "Either of you feel like taking a look?"

"Uh... no."

Tim shakes his head and looks *green*, and if she's *not* thinking about worlds where her parents lived --

Or maybe worlds where the Jason grew up into the kind of asshole who *wouldn't* drag her home --

Jason shudders and jerks his head at Dick. "What about you?"

Dick smiles the *Robin* smile. "Call it something to pass the time," he says, and steps close.

And there's Dick when he was a kid, only his uniform has actual *pants*. It's a full bodysuit, and it looks *good* and armored, and Batman -- isn't. That's Bruce's jaw, and his shoulders, and his huge fucking *size*, but there's also a whole lot of black and red silk. And, for some reason, his hair is red. That -- is it fake?

"Do we count that as a good one or a bad one?"

Dick shakes his head and stares incredulously --

And then not-Batman gooses Dick so hard he nearly falls off the fucking *roof* --

And Dick snorts. "We're calling it good. How do I get it to change, Clark?"

"Hmm. It usually just *does* change. Perhaps you like what you see?"

"Oh, I do, I do, but..." And Dick closes his eyes and *obviously* concentrates --

Deathwing.

"Jesus, not *this* guy --"

"Who --" Dick opens his eyes and glares. "God, is it possible that he got more pathetic?"

"Eugh. Are there seriously little knives hanging from his nipple rings?"

Jason chokes. "I *missed* that --"

Dick makes a *sweeping* gesture --

And the image changes to one showing Dick apparently on stakeout. He's got *seriously* too-long hair and his ridiculously perfect body just *poured* into something black and indigo and --

Tim coughs. "I think we have to count this one as good, too."

Little -- little stripes on the fingers -- wait. "Dick, how the fuck did you *do* that?"

"Just a meditation trick, little wing. The motion tells me how to direct my thoughts," and Dick does it *again* -- "Ooh. I think I can go with this one, too."

Considering the fact that the Dick on-screen is fucking the *hell* out of Babs' *tits* --

Jason stares --

And stares some more --

"I... ah. Should we really be looking at this?" And Tim sounds *uncomfortable* --

Steph snorts. "She checks *us* out all the time."

"Yes, but, this might make her seek *revenge*, Steph."

Dick laughs. "*Good* point," and he lifts his arm --

"Aw, c'mon, Dickie, at least let us get to the money shot."

Clark sighs happily. "I believe it could be... ah... beneficial."

"'Beneficial'."

"Oh, yes. It would help us see... how..."

"Uh. See how the machine works!" And Jason's proud of himself for getting that out, really, considering -- "Oh, *yeah*."

"Hunh." Steph gets a little closer. "Somehow I could never see her putting *up* with getting a pearl necklace."

Dick smiles *secretively* -- and gestures.

And the Dick onscreen is crying so hard --

He's holding *Tim* in his arms, and Tim's wearing a ripped-up and somehow conservative-looking *Robin* suit --

And Tim looks --

Looks fucking --

"No," Dick says, and gestures again --

And the Dick onscreen is wearing the black-and-indigo suit again, but his hair is *incredibly* short -- and *Steph* is Batgirl and *right* there --

"Oh, my," Clark says, and *beams*. "Would you ever -- oh."

Dick and Steph are -- not sparring even a little. It's brutal and *fast* -- faster than he's *ever* seen Steph moving, and she's using a staff like Tim's --

And the Dick onscreen is trying to *maim* her, and it's *obvious* even though he's only using fucking *escrima* sticks --

Fuck, Steph just broke Dick's *nose* --

His cheekbone --

That nut-shot would *cripple* any-fucking-one else --

"Uh. Big Bird?"

"You're allowed to close your eyes, little wing. *I*, on the other hand, need to see *exactly* what Steph is capable of learning."

"Okay, but --"

Dick spits blood in Steph's eyes --

Jabs her breast and stomach with the escrima sticks *viciously* hard --

She staggers --

Dick hisses and steps *back* --

But the screen doesn't go black until Jason knows for *sure* that Dick had aimed a shot at her throat.

Jason squeezes his eyes shut fucking *late* -- no. He opens them again and checks on Steph, who's rubbing her throat just like she'd caught the end of that, too. Her eyes are wide and freaked --

And then she shudders, swallows, and yanks on a smile by main fucking force before jerking her chin at Dick. "I'm calling Superman if you ever even *look* like you're thinking of getting a practical haircut."

Dick just stares at her for a long moment, stares like he's trying to *memorize* her -- and then he pulls on his own smile. "'Practical,' little sister...? Is this where we talk about just how problematic that ponytail is?"

She blinks and reaches to tug on it -- "I cut my hair for *no* one, *Dick*."

His smile turns into a *grin*. "Then a cowl wouldn't be the worst idea --"

"Oh -- *that* bitch's hair was all over the place!"

Dick blinks. "You assumed... that was her fault?"

"You *didn't*?"

Dick's smile gets rueful again. "Not even a *teeny* bit, little sister. I -- okay, useful advice first: It's much harder for an attacker to get a useful -- and deadly -- grip on hair that's spread out across the backs of your shoulders than it is for one to get a grip on a nice, handy --" And his hand *doesn't* move too fast to see, but it moves way too fast for Steph to *counter* -- "Ponytail."

"*Gah*! Okay, okay. But I'm *Skylark*, not freaking Batgirl."

Dick waggles his eyebrows behind the mask -- not too many people can actually *manage* that -- and winds her ponytail around his fist *slowly*.

She crosses her arms under her tits --

Jason takes a good, *long* look -- and then checks on Tim, who is absolutely letting Clark cradle her a little. Clark is whispering things in Kryptonian that Jason can't quite catch, and Tim is whispering right back.

Distraction works *just* fine, as far as he's concerned, especially since Steph doesn't look pissy, yet.

Jason walks over -- giving the machine a *wide* fucking berth -- and cups her hips from the back.

She turns to give him a *flirty* look -- and it doesn't get any *less* flirty when Dick turns her back to face him.

"We can... mm. There's more than one kind of cowl, little sister."

Steph blinks just like she wasn't expecting Dick to have anything Mission-related to say --

And Dick laughs that soft and *sweet* laugh -- "We can talk about it later," he says, leaning in slow and careful and *slow* --

Steph *shivers* -- and moans when the kiss finally lands. Maybe for the way Dick's lips feel, maybe for the way he'd closed his *eyes* --

He doesn't know, but he *wants* to --

Almost as much as he wants to press closer, *squeeze* those meaty hips and rub his way-too-armored-at-the-moment crotch against her ass --

She reaches back and *claws* his ass --

"Jesus, I don't get *tired* of that --"

And Steph makes a noise that sounds a lot like 'I *know*,' but she keeps kissing Dick, keeps --

God, he doesn't *know* this Dick-kiss. It looks hot as hell, but it also looks a little *gentle*, a little -- no. He's learning her, seeing how far he can pull her *into* it.

He already knows *exactly* how far he can take *Jason* --

And Dick's a *fast* fucking learner, because all Steph has to do is make an *impatient* noise before Dick is hauling her closer --

Up onto her *toes* --

"*Mm*!"

And the kiss is a *lot* like the ones Jason hopes he dies before he ever forgets. Dick is fucking *taking* her mouth, opening her up with his tongue --

*Pulling* on her ponytail with one hand and cupping her breast with the other --

She *bucks* --

And Dick pulls back and sighs coffee against her mouth. "Little sister..."

"Uh. Uh. Fuck?"

Dick grins. "I certainly hope so," and he licks her mouth --

Steph *grunts* --

Jason *strokes* her hips --

"How *much* did you like it when Jay started fucking you *hard*?"

Steph blushes *hard* --

Dick sucks in a shaky breath. "Steph..."

"I -- uh. You --"

"You're staying here tonight."

"I -- yeah --"

"With us."

"That doesn't mean -- uh." She bites her lip and tugs herself away from Dick a little --

And Dick raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"No? Mostly no? Jesus, Dick, we still have to go back *out* after this!"

Dick looks thoughtful, so Jason checks --

Bruce has his gauntlets shoved through his belt and the cowl pushed back. He's cupping Harvey's face --

They've got their foreheads together and they're whispering --

Jason can see a shine on *both* their cheeks --

Fucking --

"Little wing?"

"Uh. How *much* did Bruce like to distract himself with work?"

Dick laughs a little breathlessly. "A lot. A lot, a lot, a lot," he says, and *hugs* Steph --

"*Oof* --"

"Mmm. Tell me we can do this often...?"

"Hugs are totally okay!"

"Good," and Dick kisses her cheek, her temple, and her cheek again before pulling back --

And when Jason turns back to Bruce and Harvey, they're walking towards them. They're holding hands and Harvey is smiling. Bruce doesn't *quite* look like he's marching toward his own execution --

No, it would be Harvey's execution, because there's no way Bruce would look that sad and *painfully* brave if it was just his own life on the line. He --

He needs them. And that's exactly what he's gonna get.

Jason jerks his chin. "Stay right around where I am, distance-wise," he says, and points to the machine. "It's *real* damned responsive."

Bruce blinks and actually looks a little interested. "Responsive how?"

Dick smiles ruefully. "We've just been looking at various... lives. Of ourselves. *You* need to focus on Gilda, Harvey, because I know for a fact that you don't want to see what happens to you in other universes."

"You got that right, Dick. I..." Harvey shakes his head and his smile turns a little rueful, too. "On the other hand, it can be like a... booster shot, maybe? I'm not wasting *any* time before I find the birds and bats in whichever reality I wind up in. Hopefully none of them shoot first and ask questions later, hey?" And he's grinning and that's great, but --

Fuck.

"Hey, what did I say?"

Tim pats Clark's chest twice and Clark sets him on her feet. "We've just been given some measure of proof that we could be... ah..."

"FUBAR," Jason says. "I think that's the best word for it."

Harvey nods thoughtfully. "So maybe I should sit back and watch a little?"

Dick takes a deep breath. "I don't *want* to think that way, but... yes." His laugh is short and sharp. "Especially if any of us look like we have practical haircuts."

Jason opens his mouth -- but the Jason with the guns had hair shorter than he's kept his since his *mom* was alive and could make him sit still for her scissors. "Yeah, that," he says. "You're gonna think about Gilda. Maybe about *two* Gildas?"

Harvey looks them all over like he's doing his own memorization --

*Strokes* Bruce's hand --

And grins. "So maybe I've already had that fantasy a couple-few-dozen times."

Steph snorts. "What if she's not *into* clone-fucking?"

"Hey, Stephanie, I'm a *prosecutor*. I'm *paid* to be convincing," he says, and winks at her.

She puts her fists on her hips and -- yeah. That's totally her glare for *him*, which means it's her glare for 'I'm totally thinking about screwing you.'

And Harvey smiles at her *warmly*. "Hold on to your dreams, okay? *All* of 'em --"

"I *plan* on it --"

"*And* maybe remember that there are a whole lot of ways to make a difference."

She blinks --

"No *poaching*," Dick says, and wags a finger at Harvey just like *he* isn't deadly fucking serious about that --

Harvey raises his hands. "Can't blame a guy for trying? Maybe? Ah, what can I say? I'm *primitive* -- but I'm working on it," he says, and turns to look at Bruce. "I'll remember everything, big guy. I promise."

Bruce stares *into* Harvey and nods --

And Harvey shivers and kisses him hard once, twice --

Again and again, and *that's* when Jason notices that the hickeys really are visible above the collar of his shirt, and that the stubble-burn is really fucking *obvious* --

Jesus, a part of his brain had just filtered all that out as *normal* --

Which is going to make dealing with *their* Harvey --

Two-Face. They have a *Two*-Face, not a One-Face, and he's gonna remember that --

He *has* to remember --

Bruce groans and kisses Harvey *hard*, shuddering and holding himself *rigid* everywhere but his face --

He has to remember for *Bruce's* sake. They all do, and that's that.

Harvey pushes his hands between them --

And Bruce steps back and pants. "I love you."

"Always, big guy. *Always*," Harvey says, wiping the back of his mouth and turning to walk close to the machine, which shows Bruce in some kind of crazy full-torso brace *still* kicking ass --

And a Bruce who looks about seventy going on one hundred and eleven... with a middle-aged Tim on his *lap* --

*Their* Bruce coughs --

Tim *hums* --

And Harvey laughs a little. "I -- think I gotta say I like this one, big guy. But..." He closes his eyes and focuses --

And the Gildas fly past too fast -- almost -- to really see.

There's one with a scarred face to match Two-Face's --

And one sculpting a life-sized statue of fucking *Lex Luthor* --

And one wearing all black splashing gasoline all over the Arkham grounds and weeping --

Setting *bombs* and weeping --

Harvey still has his *eyes* closed --

And Dick cups Harvey's shoulder. "Think of her when you were happiest, Harvey. When... maybe your wedding day?"

And there she is marrying Two-Face --

Smiling up at Harvey in the Oval fucking *Office* --

Laughing, in a studio.

With another, older-looking Gilda. Hunh.

"I think you can open your eyes now, One-Face," Jason says, and grins.

"What -- oh. Oh. There -- there's her little awl scar," Harvey says, walking closer to the machine and pointing at an almost-invisible dimple just beneath her right eye. Both of her eyes are looking a little shadowed and deep despite the laughter -- "I was worried *sick* -- and. Ah, those hands, those --" Harvey shudders and *hugs* himself --

Pants --

Dick swallows. "You're sure --"

"Couldn't be -- God, look how beautiful -- but she hasn't been getting enough *sleep* --" Harvey growls and drops his hands, curling them into fists. "How. How do I *do* this?"

Good question --

But Clark clears him throat. "You merely... ah. The portal is the screen you're looking through, Mr. Dent."

"Oh. Oh. I -- I need to *thank* you, Superman. Hell, *all* of you," and Harvey turns to look at them all, and he's crying a little --

Jason does his own swallowing. "It's cool, man. It's --"

"Ah... better, perhaps, if you take these with you," and Clark hands Harvey a stack of papers which look covered with diagrams.

Harvey blinks. "What... what are these?"

Onscreen, the two Gildas turn to look at a television which looks like it was dragged into the studio *real* damned recently. The sound from the television is weirdly garbled for some reason Jason can't guess at, but it's easy enough to read the text at the bottom of the screen: Doubles Everywhere! JLA Stumped!

Well, at least it's not a *CSA* --

"-- could think of it as insurance, Mr. Dent," Clark says, and pats Harvey's hand. "I have no idea whether you'll be able to find all the materials needed to build a machine like this one in that universe, but..."

Harvey sniffs hard. "It's -- thank you. Thank you."

Clark smiles, and it's a *real* one, wry and warm and soft. "Thank you for every moment of happiness you've given my companion. And for every such moment you *will* give in the future."

Harvey turns to Bruce one more time --

Bruce is *smiling* --

And Harvey squeezes his eyes shut and nods before turning around and *stalking* right through the 'screen' -- which obviously isn't a screen, at all, because it *bubbles* --

Flares fucking *alarmingly* --

And then they're looking at Harvey staggering into the studio --

At the older Gilda *recoiling* --

And the younger one jumping up and *running* into Harvey's arms, holding him and patting him and kissing him --

And he's spinning her around and around --

Kissing her all over her face --

The older Gilda is on her feet and watching *warily*, but isn't reaching for a weapon or anything, which is a *great* sign as far as Jason is concerned. He tries to guess the year by the television --

It doesn't work. The thing looks much too old for the technology being shown onscreen.

As for checking out the older Gilda... no, that doesn't work *either*, because she'd aged a decade overnight after there was no longer any way to get around the fact that Harvey was a psychotic killer.

He doesn't know. He --

He might not ever know. Just like he might not ever know what it cost Dick to be the one to step in range of the machine to make sure they could all keep *watching* --

And it's not a surprise that Bruce is the one who starts tugging him backwards.

"Bruce --"

"Please, brother. Not this," Bruce says, and his voice is gentle and low and heavy --

"Then what?" Tim says, and takes *one* step closer --

Steph smacks her. "How is that even a *question*?"

"*Ow* --"

"She's got a point, baby," Jason says, and he *and* Steph push and pull her over to where Dick is hugging Bruce. They get in on that action -- Tim tucks herself under Bruce's huge fucking *cape* -- and eventually Bruce starts to shudder and rock a little.

"Let it out --"

"We're here, Spooky --"

"We *love* you," Dick says, reaching up and back to snap his fingers --

"Ah... are you sure?"

Jason swallows and thinks of Kon -- "*Yes*, we're fucking sure. And so is Bruce."

Bruce sniffs --

Does it again --

"Yes," he says, and -- "Please."

And Clark is right there heating them all up a little.

He can smell Tim's product and Steph's sweat. He can smell coffee and body armor. He can smell *tears* --

But they're his own, so he just fucking copes.

*

Thirty-seven hours ago, Harvey had walked through a portal into another universe with the plans to build another such machine. While there are parts of him which know very well that Harvey will *try* to get such a thing built -- if only to let them *speak* once more -- the other parts are the ones which have been getting the most *voice* within his mind.

He cannot quite escape the feeling that he's alone and will *be* alone for the rest of his life --

Save when his new family are near to him.

To that end, he simply hasn't had *that* much time to brood --

The more pessimistically *terrible* parts of him all say that that isn't *enough* --

Sometimes they say it with the same voice they'd use to tell him to *train* --

He will not call that voice 'The Bat.'

He will not give it *any* name anymore.

Right now, however, he is alone in the Cave save for Tim, who is soaking a muscle strain in her thigh in the Jacuzzi Bruce would never have thought of installing on his own. There are always dangers in sparring, but he knows Tim is blackly angry with herself for this injury just the same, despite the others' attempts to talk her around to reason.

Bruce would feel precisely the same in her position, and that --

That is what will help him stop being alone in *this* moment. He will give Tim a thorough rubdown before joining Dick for a shared patrol.

First, however, he will finish familiarizing himself with the crimes of Pamela Isley, who has somehow become one of the family's most dangerous enemies -- and nearly entirely inhuman.

She had always been a genius with plant toxins, and she had certainly always been deeply and dangerously *troubled*...

Bruce gives himself another moment to stare at the -- shockingly crisp and realistic -- computer image of Isley. Her flesh is the color of kiwi fruit flesh, her finger- and toenails are nearly *woody*, and, in the photograph, the leaves which *grow from her flesh* are brown and curling with obvious illness.

How to reach someone like that?

How to *help* them?

Arkham has no better a success rate with helping the criminally insane in this time than it had had in his own -- no. *This* is his time, now. This...

Bruce closes his eyes for a long moment --

"You told me once that you were *deeply* attracted to her the first time you saw her."

Bruce blinks and looks around, but there is no sign of the voice's -- low, rich, and feminine -- provenance -- no, not that, either. There is a small -- fascinatingly small -- speaker set just there among the monitors. Bruce reaches out to touch it --

"Careful, Bruce. It's fragile."

Bruce swallows. "I'm afraid you have me -- hm. Owl?"

One of the monitors to his right flares to life -- Bruce would've sworn it was powered down -- showing a beautiful and apparently *human* woman in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair has more in common with flame than with Isley's distinctly tropical-seeming flowers; she has pale freckles on her cheeks; a broad, clear forehead; thin-lensed glasses -- and Jim Gordon's nose. And her smile is both sharp and warm.

"Is it proper to say that I'm pleased to meet you in a situation like this one?"

She purses her soft, unpainted lips. "Something tells me you're going to *loathe* learning what you need to know about computers."

Bruce smiles and raises an eyebrow. "I believe that will depend on the teacher."

A show of teeth. "Tim isn't the most patient... person in the world for such things."

"And you are?"

She laughs. "No. Not even a wee little bit," she says, and rests her faintly strong chin on her scarred fists. "So you're in for the long haul."

Last night, he had gone to sleep in Dick's arms, with Jason on his other side. This morning, he had woken sneezing, because Stephanie's thick hair had somehow migrated into his nose.

Perhaps when he had clutched her lush body to his own.

He wishes he *remembered* that --

"Hard question...?"

Bruce blinks away the memory. "Not at all. I will stay here for as long as I am desired. I... was attempting to piece together the events of last -- hm. I believe Alfred drugged me."

Another laugh. "You can't tell me you're not familiar with *that* protocol."

"Owl --"

"Call me Barbara."

Bruce smiles. "Thank you --"

"You're welcome. Do you know why I waited to speak to you directly?"

"I assumed you had no desire to."

Barbara snorts. "I... no."

Bruce leans back and crosses his legs. "Please, tell me."

And she... looks him over. And sighs. "Bruce... you really have turned over a new leaf, haven't you?"

"I hope so."

"And you... you're not going to lie to the family if it can possibly be avoided, and you're going to do your level best to open up and share and allow others to share with you."

"It's... it's what I've wanted. For far longer a time than I am yet comfortable admitting to --"

"Except to your first love?"

*Lost* love -- no. Even now, he can use the machine to show him Harvey's precise location. He is at once incalculably far away and close enough for touch, for all that *he* can't come back here until another machine is built --

And he will not avoid Barbara's questions. "I knew at fourteen that there was nothing I didn't wish to share with Harvey, for all that the idea of doing so was both embarrassing and confusing."

She tilts her head to the side. "You couldn't figure out how to do it."

It isn't a question, but Bruce inclines his head just the same. When he looks up again, her smile is rueful and somewhat pained. "Barbara...?"

"I... let's just say that *that* sort of thing isn't unfamiliar to me."

"Yes?"

"When I want to shut down conversation about my issues, I speak lovingly and pointedly about the beauties and charms inherent to privacy. Much to my chagrin -- having observed *you* for the past few days -- people have come to think that I actually *am* a private person. As opposed to a fearful, obsessive, misanthropic, geeky, and *lonely* person."

Bruce frowns. "Is there anything I might do --"

"Oh, Bruce..." She smiles again, and reaches out with her palm facing forward.

Bruce touches his own palm to the screen --

And she sighs again and drops her hand. "I was afraid to look at you. I was *deathly* afraid to smell you. I was *terrified* to get to know you again... knowing that you'd be leaving again. And knowing that I probably still wouldn't find a way to tell you how much I loved you once upon a time. After all, I never even managed to tell *Dick* that when it would've given him comfort. But... you're in for the long haul."

Bruce drops his own hand and nods. "I would like to come to know you."

"Tim showed you how to get to my home."

"Would you like --"

"Not... tonight. And I'm not even stalling, this time," she says, and gestures to someone off-screen --

And then a very small young woman in her mid-to-late teens walks within view of the camera. She is Asian -- quite possibly Korean, given her bone structure -- and has a faintly pear-shaped form which is obvious, given the tightness of her uniform. There is a gold bat symbol emblazoned across her chest, a gold belt with many deep-looking pockets, and gold bands across her knuckles, which Bruce can see have been subtly enhanced with something which would turn her punches devastating.

More devastating. She is in no ready-stance, but her walk and the calm *looseness* of her body suggests a facility with *several* schools of martial arts --

"Batwoman...?"

When the young woman smiles, she looks even younger. Or -- innocent, perhaps. There is a brightness to it, a flare of *force* --

Bruce smiles back helplessly --

And the young woman points to Barbara and then to the bat on her chest. "Bat*girl*."

"As you say --"

And then she points to her own cheek. "Cassandra."

Bruce inclines his head. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm --"

"Bruce. Do you talk all the time?"

Bruce blinks. "I... at... times?"

She frowns mildly and nods before turning back to Barbara, who smiles at her with fondness and something like a *vicious* pride --

"Route F tonight. Report in on the hours."

Cassandra nods once and pulls a cowl much like Bruce's own down over her face. It's somewhat more form-fitting than Bruce's, which doesn't bode well for the armoring, but then *all* of them have decided to go without head armor for reasons Bruce does not yet understand. When Cassandra has the cowl situated properly, she smiles at him again and runs easily and lightly to the window several feet behind Barbara before jumping out.

Barbara hums. "She came to me -- to *Owl* -- after the 'quake. She was dirty, malnourished, and exhausted, because she had been searching the entire city for signs of *you*."

"But... I don't understand."

"The man who raised, trained, and abused her is named David Cain. Familiar...?"

"No --"

"I didn't think so. I've uploaded every bit of information I could find about him to the server. Your other self battled him inconclusively twice which, considering the fact that the man earns his money killing very, very well-protected people, was enough to make Cain obsessed with you. According to Cassandra, Cain didn't believe you were dead. He told her about you with some *very* problematic picture-books, and, when Cassandra woke up one day and decided she didn't *want* to be an assassin, she decided to come looking for you. It took her years to get to this country... well, she can tell you all about it when she wants to. It'll be good practice for her, considering the fact that speaking -- or making any sorts of noise, at all -- was a beating offense with Cain."

Bruce narrows his eyes. "Where is he."

"I haven't the *faintest* clue... but Cassandra believes he just might be looking for her -- and you. Watch your back."

"Will you be doing the same?"

"*Oh*, yes. Though, really, with Cassandra living here the past few months, I've really never felt *safer*," she says, and smiles ruefully. "She wipes the *floor* with me *every* time we spar. I *think* you'll be able to fight her to a draw, and Dick, too, but I could very well be wrong about that. In any event, I've already told the rest of the family a little about her -- and thus about why I've been so... absent -- do be sure to share the rest."

Bruce nods. And -- "I have no doubt in your ability to judge the fitness of another operative, considering the wisdom you've shown in your direction of the rest of the family."

Her expression... quirks.

"Was that... something the other Bruce wouldn't have said?"

"I... it's not that he *never* offered compliments. It's just that it always made him look *extremely* worried."

Bruce laughs quietly. "As if something terrible would happen...?"

"Yes. And -- you've already seen more terrible things than that Bruce had."

Bruce looks down at his bare hands. The Atom had told Dick that there was a *scar* on the fabric of space-time --

A scar with no signs of *healing* -- though, thankfully, also no signs of *spreading*.

There are other universes. Other *realities*. And, while there is no way to be sure that every person he has loved have found themselves in safe -- or reasonably safe -- realities --

There is such a thing as hope. Bruce looks up and smiles. "I have become superstitious enough not to want to 'jinx' myself. Just the same... just the same, I am here, and alive, and loved. And I will appreciate every moment of that."

"Hnn. Who do you plan to 'appreciate' tonight...?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

"Inquiring minds want to *know*... boss."

Bruce coughs into his fist -- and *then* thinks about what Barbara has said about 'observing' him. And, presumably, the others. There are strange and wonderful miniature cameras in the masks. There *must* be at least one camera *here*.

But if cameras have become *that* advanced...

Bruce blinks and looks at Barbara. Tries... tries to *see* her --

"Yes...?"

"Are... how *many* cameras --"

"No," she says, and shows her teeth.

"I --"

"You're not ready for the answer to that question, boss. Just go with the idea that voyeurism has a long and noble tradition in this family --"

"Who *started* that tradition?"

She raises an eyebrow. Pointedly.

"I -- I *watched* Dick with... his friends? His team."

Barbara crosses her own legs and swings her chair back and forth. "You edited the footage *beautifully*. And hid it well, too. You were dead for three years before Dick found it."

Bruce... stares.

"Aww, there, there. Surveillance is love, too."

"I --"

"Come see me... tomorrow."

"Oh. All right --"

"Bring Dick with you," she says, and *licks* her teeth. That --

Bruce blushes somewhat helplessly --

And Barbara makes a soft sound which *becomes* a bladed hum. "I'll get you Robin's twenty once you're rolling. Until then... Owl out."

"I -- yes --"

But the monitor is blank -- and powered down once more.

Bruce takes a deep breath, centers himself, and turns back to the file on Isley. As he's going over it for the third and final time, he becomes aware of an uneven and *consciously* soft tread behind him. It --

He smiles and continues reading. "Tim. Should you still be in the Jacuzzi?"

"I think you'll find," Tim says, and spins Bruce's chair just so before climbing onto Bruce's lap, "that I should be right here."

Bruce hums and pulls Tim closer because he can -- and because he knows, with all of himself, that in this moment he *should*. Though -- "I do still wish to give you a rubdown --"

"Oh... you absolutely will," she says, and throws her arms around Bruce's neck. "Daddy."

Bruce raises an eyebrow --

Tim pulls her expression into a *pout* --

"I... call me what you wish --"

"And you'll *be* what I wish...?"

Bruce kisses her forehead. "Beautiful girl. I belong --"

"*Here*."

Bruce smiles and kisses her again. "Always."

end.



This story actually means a lot to me. It took me forever to get it written just the way I wanted it, and, well, I could talk about it all day. I'd love to hear from you about it.
.DW. :: .LJ. :: .E-mail.
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