All Our Times Have Come, Here But Now They're Gone

More thoughts on Clark fantasizing about sweaty Bruce "in a friend way":

The reason this lasts so long is coz every time Clark considers that maybe this behaviour isn't normal, he looks over at Bruce who's doing the exact same thing and thinks "nah, this is how friends act, totally bros"

He's memorising his heartbeat and scent? Bruce has already studied every inch of his body in great detail multiple times

He's interested in learning more about Bruce's parents and childhood? Bruce has been learning to speak kryptonian and studying the culture for years now

He treats the bat kids like his own kids? Bruce literally buys the bank his parents owe money to so they can keep the farm

He stares at the man's scars for a bit too long in the changing rooms? Bruce just full on looks him in the eye while he strips down then continues on like nothing happened

This man has not only matched his freak, he's doubled it and put a batsymbol on it

This fic is super sweet and hilarious, highly recommend!

Distracted

Chapters: 6/6

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Superboy (Comics), Robin (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types

Relationship: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Connor Kent

Characters: Tim Drake (DCU), Kon-El | Connor Kent, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Clark Kent

Additional Tags (truncated): Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Identity Porn, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Shenanigans (DCU), The Boys Bully Bruce, Bruce Wayne is So Done, Jason Todd is a Menace, Fluff and Smut, Protective Older Brothers, Meet the Family, Family Dinner, Minor Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, Minor Dick Grayson/Wally West, Oral Sex, Hand jobs, Frottage, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Surprise Wally West Appearance

Summary:

“Because it’s all your fault!” Kon snapped.

Robin bristled, eyes narrowing. “Oh, it’s my fault, is it?”

“Yes!” Kon tugged at his hair in frustration.

Robin stepped forward, closing the gap between them, getting in Kon’s face. “Enlighten me. How exactly is any of this my fault?”

“What color are your eyes?”

“I-” Robin took a step back in bewilderment. “What?”

~

Kon has been distracted and Robin finally confronts him.

When ur brutally murdered son comes back from the dead with pure unfiltered rage

And if Jason perceives his death anniversary completely differently from how his family do?

Jason, against the common belief, canonically doesn't talk about his death that much, and when he does, he feels like it is not something people need to dwell on — it is how they view and interpret his death, and the aftermath, that bothers him.

So, maybe on his death anniversary, Jason doesn't want to mourn. He wants to live. So he does. He visits his favourite places in the Gotham, chats with people he had missed, enjoys his day, and breathes, breathes, b r e a t h e s.

But once he steps in the Manor for a minute that day?

It is nothing but a kingdom of the grief.

Bruce is locked up in the Cave, straight in front of the memorial. Dick is not even around, and Jason takes a wild guess that he is visiting his grave in the meanwhile. Alfred maniacally cleans up in the library over and over, ignoring other duties. Even Tim, Tim, who technically has nothing to do with all of that, takes after others (almost instinctively), and acts along with a strange, dreadful atmosphere in the house.

And Jason is irritated, pissed off, but mostly hurt.

He is literally right here.

But once again, it changes absolutely nothing. It never does. Really.

Everything by Suzukiblu and Clockwayswrites but I'm never gonna be brave enough XD

Do y'all ever read a fic so good that it makes you want to elevate your own craft and also befriend the writer? It's almost like, "Hi! You write so well that you've inspired me to embark on a creative training arc. Also, can I yell about the character in your dms because you get it?"

Doing a reread of Nightwing and honestly, I kinda forgot that whole thing at the start of Wolfman’s run with Raptor where Dick got buried alive and had to dig his way out and now I’m just imagining it coming up in conversation with Jason

Jason: yeah digging myself out was no fun at all. You start to feel all weird because of the lack of oxygen, and combine that with the mud under your fingers - a sensory nightmare. I still can’t touch mud.

Dick: oh yeah I get that totally. When I had to dig my way out, I remember looking at my hands and -

Jason: wait, dig your way out - when the fuck did that happen?!

Dick: yeah, it was just after that time you came to New York!

Jason: *bluescreening*

Dick: you steal my suit, I steal your shtick

Jason should kill the Joker and just not tell anyone. like, lets be real here, if he were to silently slip in and kill the Joker in his sleep, are any of the workers at Arkham really going to give enough of a shit to say anything??? with the paperwork they’d have to do, and the attention they’d get once the media caught wind of the break in/murder, i bet all Jason would have to do is leave like, a basket of muffins next to the dead body as a thank you and the staff would just dispose of the body and shut the fuck up about it.

i bet you he could get through a solid six to eight month period of being weirdly happy and interactive with the rest of the family before Dick finally asks why he’s been in such a good mood lately over family dinner

Jason, casually: i dunno, i guess i’ve just had a weight lifted from my shoulders; there’s less to drive me away now.

Bruce, thinking he’s finally done something right: aw Jaylad, i’m so happy you’re feeling more comfortable!

Dick, the only batkid around when Jason was Robin, remembering all the times Jason would transform into the happiest kid on the planet only for them to find out a week later it was because he’d pushed a bully down the stairs at school and fractured his wrist: hold on B.

Dick: Jay, what weight has been lifted?

Jason, still nonplussed: well i finally got my GED, and the Joker thing really calmed the lazarus rage. also Steph got me into puppy yoga, we go once a week.

Bruce:

Bruce: what Joker thing.

Jason, glancing up from his food: ? d’i not mention that? he’s dead, man.

Bruce:

Dick:

Dick: sorry, what?

Tim: why the fuck am i never invited to puppy yoga?

Bruce, having a panic attack: y- what are you talking about Jay-

Tim: i would LOVE to go to puppy yoga. what the FUCK?

Jason, shrugging: you can come to puppy yoga, replacement, it’s all good

Bruce: the Joker’s dead?

Tim: FUCK YEAH, PUPPY YOGA

Jason: i think they do it with goats too.

Damian: i would be interested in this activity.

Jason: hell yeah family yoga session

Bruce: JASON PLEASE EXPAND ON THE JOKER THING

Jason: no i don’t like your tone. anyway, dick, puppy yoga?

Dick:

Dick, glancing at Bruce’s glare nervously: …i would be down for puppy yoga

babysitting your work friend's kid and he asks to look at your patchwork quilt of a skull. wyd. inspired by Super Sons #6!

Oh my god I love it so much. Those two together would be fantastic chaos

Do you think Bruce Wayne would flirt with Benoit Blanc?

I think if Bruce ever found himself in a situation to meet Benoit Blanc, to his great chagrin, it’d be as Brucie Wayne. He’d be on some rich fuck’s island under cover when a murder happens and it’d be killing him that he can’t break cover to get a closer look at the body. And then along comes Benoit Blanc and Bruce decides, well he’s Brucie right now, it’d be weird if he didn’t flirt a little.

And hey, who knows, if Blanc likes him maybe he’ll let Bruce tag along and get into places Brucie wouldn’t normally be if he wasn’t trying to seduce this weirdly accented, tall glass of deductive skills. (And maybe he’s enjoying it a little more than he should, but technically he’s on vacation so…)

Blanc, of course, catches on and thinks Bruce has something to hide and is keeping him close because he thinks he’s either the killer or in on it.

Except that’s not what the evidence or instincts are actually telling him. Not really.

But he also can’t ignore the fact that Bruce managed to trip and fall directly into the filing cabinet in the office, causing the drawer to fly open and reveal the evidence Blanc’s looking for. Or that the billionaire has a slightly delayed reaction to seeing blood. Not much, but enough for Blanc to notice.

There’s also the way he keeps making suggestions that on the surface seem benign, but are nevertheless intended to lead Blanc toward where his own instincts are telling him to look. So either Brucie is one of those killers who likes to be involved in the investigation because they want to make sure you’re noticing their ‘genius’ or because they think they can control the narrative by being helpful, or…

“Y’know something, Mister Wayne…”

“Benoit, please,” Bruce says with a slow, seductive smile that unfurls like silk over rich velvet. “How many times do I have to ask? Call me Bruce.”

“… Bruce. You’ve been so remarkably helpful.”

“Oh, you know me. I always aim to please.”

Bruce’s smile takes on an electric edge that makes Benoit’s thumb slide to the gold wedding band on his ring finger. He’s a married man, he’s a married man…

“I can’t help but wonder, though,” Benoit says, matching Bruce’s smile for a knowing one of his own. “Don’t you get tired?”

His tone is off, he knows it is because Bruce’s expression doesn’t flicker, not even a jot. It’s just unnatural enough to be telling.

“Tired of what?” the younger man asks, just the right amount of cheerful confusion in his voice and an adorable title of his head like a puppy to make you miss the sharpness behind his eyes. The way his body is coiling tight. Ready for a fight.

“Of pretending,” Benoit says, lifting a cigar to his mouth, making a show of patting down his pockets for the lighter. “I know I surely do. It grates on a man, always being underestimated. Everyone thinking you’re not as sharp as you are. Not as clever, not as quick. It must be a relief, I think, to finally be seen…”

The hand that had been rummaging in his pocket shoots out, aiming for Bruce’s perfect face. Bruce deflects it, twisting Benoit’s hand in a viper-like move Benoit hasn’t seen since…

“Ra’s doesn’t train just anyone,” he says, acutely aware of how much Bruce’s expression has changed without so much of a flicker of muscle. How sharp and hard the angles of his face have become. How deadly. “I confess, I didn’t see it at first. You’re very good, Bruce. I never would have put two and two together if you hadn’t twisted Haggart’s elbow the way you did when he tried to grab Maxine.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Take that as a compliment from one detective to another… Batman.”

Batman, Nightwing and Red Hood by Simone Di Meo