Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There are over 3000 known comets in our solar system, and scientists believe there to up to a billion total, but this comet was not one of them. How did Batman know this?

First of all because he is Batman, paranoia comes with the cowl.

Second because he has been watching the incoming meteorites approach for the better part of a week. At first it was simply just for the interest of Dick, his young ward, after the bat computer first alerted them to the incoming shower. Then Dick used the bat computer hack a satellite for pictures.

Bruce wasn’t entirely sure whether this behaviour deserved punishment or not. Dick managed to get away unscathed as Bruce notice that one of the poorly imaged comments had no tail. Red flags were raised by that.

Piece of rock hurdling through space were supposed to break down and leave an iconic tail behind. This had started the relatively short-lived crusade of comet chasing. It had peaked the Bat’s interest even further when the tailless meteorite would be flying over Gotham, the concern being that the meteor could actually cause his city damage. Another sleepless night showed that no, none of the comets would not crush in the city nor land just within their city limits, read territory, enough to warrant investigation of anything that could potential survive the harshness of impact with the earth’s surface.

That was precisely how Batman found himself looking through binoculars for shooting stars dancing across the sky with his sidekick Robin hopping excitedly from foot to foot beside him. In broad daylight. Yeah Batman didn’t do daylight, but the aforementioned paranoia didn’t do sleep either apparently.

Alfred was back at the cave assuring the young boy.

‘Yes, it is exciting Master Dick’, ‘No I don’t believe they be quite like fireworks Master Dick’ and the reoccurring ‘It is a meteor not a space craft Master Dick, there will not be any aliens Master Dick’.

Bruce had honestly tunned it out some time ago standing vigilante atop the edge of his city.

Dick was in the middle of another comment about not being able to prove alien didn’t exist when it started. Crimson and amber streak burning across the already bright sky.

A quick glanced showed Bruce that Dick stood amazed at the sight, wholly captivated by the bright flashes. Soon too was the stoic Batman ensnared by the splendour.

So ensnared that he almost missed the one tailless meteor swerve. Keyword almost. The Batman snapped out of his stupor immediately, falling to the batmobile park on the streets below. Waiting only until Robin drops into the seat beside him to case after the prized object.

Of course, the comet had the advantage of speed as even the batmobile could not reach the awesome speed of 60km/s. They also had the disadvantage of having no idea where the comet was headed, past the cardinal point.

The drive to the crash site was silent both vigilantes silently puzzling out the situation.

Bruce was trying to figure out what had caused the meteorite to change course and land several kilometres within the city limits.

Dick was trying to figure out how to speak with the potential alien who would probably not know Romani any better than English.

The crash site itself held more questions then answers. They had lost sight of the comet some time ago, but Alfred had traced its impact point to an old non-developed farming area just on the edge of Gotham.

They arrived to see a still mostly intact field. The only proof of the abnormal was a streak thought the grass, of a fire burned out, leading to a charred object in the centre of the field.

Leaving the bat car unattended for the second time that night, the vigilantes did the much-warned action of walking towards the strange object recently fallen from the sky.

Certain details became clearer on their approach;

Firstly, the object, they were pretty sure it wasn’t a normal comet at this point, had ‘survived’ the crash, though it seemed as the thing had nearly been torn in two.

Secondly, the whole thing seemed smooth, very much unlike the uneven chunk of rock they were expecting.

Third, it was metal, maybe, Batman wasn’t sure, a rare occurrence for the man.

“Cool, spaceship”, spoke Dick breaking the silence as he marvelled at the object, keeping distance only because the heat radiating to his face was already making him sweat at the distance he was at already.

Fourth, the object quite literally had no better description, it was all too alien.

A whimper brought the two males from their outlandish thoughts, thoughts becoming all far too plausible.

A gloved hand reached out attentively to touch to pod. The Bat recoiled at the heat and Dick at his soft hiss of pain.

Whatever mechanics had survived the crash whirred into motion.

Batman being the taller of the two, Dick only turned 13 a few months ago, leaned over the . . . capsule as he identified it to be. Nothing could have possible prepared him for what he saw.

A child, perhaps 2, lay bundled in a deep red blanket. Her dark hair surprisingly tame from her journey. Her eyes remained closed as she whimpered again, curling further in on herself in the process.

Bruce’s heart broke for the girl in that moment. A curious Dick had peaked from up on his toes.

“Can we keep her!?”

Chapter Text

Dick had yet to let the little baby leave his sight as he held her in his arms gently cooing and rocking accordingly. This was fine with Bruce as he had no idea what to do with the little child who had fallen from the sky. Scratch that he had no idea what to do with children period. Yes, he had his ward Richard, but Bruce was fairly sure that Alfred was responsible for any success there.

2 hours. That’s how long it had taken Batman to clean up the ship and the surrounding area before arriving back at the cave for the second time in as many hours. Now the only evidence of the abnormal is the freshly patted dirt where burn grass had been hours before, the apparent spaceship they had placed in the bat mobile on his second trip and a little baby wrapped in red.

‘Is red for girls or boys?’  he thought absent minded, before dismissing the notion entirely. ‘I cannot handle another child’.

Bruce looked over to his young ward still holding the tiny bundle as Alfred handed his young ward as baby’s bottle full of water and instructed him on how to let them drink. It was a heart-warming sight. He felt his chest grow heavy as he sat down back towards the pair to his computer.

“The young Master seems quite taken by the young miss. If you don’t mind my saying so Master Bruce, I don’t believe you’ll get a turn. I wouldn’t put it past the young Master to allow the child to sleep with him sir.”

Bruce removed his cowl placing it down on the desk.

“We can’t keep her Alfred.” His voice soft enough to not garner Dick’s attention but stern enough to convey his point, “She should be raised by someone more qualified”

Bruce was certain of it, there was only one problem.

WHO ON EARTH IS QUALIFIED TO LOOK AFTER A BABY THAT FELL FROM THE SKY!

No one. Least of all him.

“While I would agree Master Bruce that the girl’s life would be made easier by someone more experienced with the situation, I’m afraid such a person may not exist.” Alfred’s gaze shifting more from the infant to Bruce.

Again no one was qualified, there entailed the problem. How could he or anyone else help the girl when they didn’t know the first thing about her. There was no win-win scenario here, there was no golden solution. There were however some very bad idea’s they could take off the table now.

Namely anything that involved ‘Gotham’ and ‘authorities’ in the same sentence. There would be no way of ensuring her safety, should her origins become common knowledge. There were too many unknowns.

“Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce”

Bruce sighed. This could not and would not be solved tonight. “Do whatever you deem necessary to ensure both Dick and the girl make it to bed tonight, safely. We’ll discuss this further in the morning.”

It would take Alfred but a few words to convince the young ward to retire for the evening, and to at last hold the tiny girl in his arms as he took them both to Dick’s room.

As predicted the young vigilante wasn’t willing to allow the girl to leave his side. Upon Alfred’s retort that the girl would have no where to sleep, Dick simply emptied his sock draw and placed it near the centre of a bed he’d always through too large anyway.

After sourcing more bedding from somewhere – one does not question the power of Alfred – to soften the draw, the two children were asleep.

It was the most peaceful and tearful sight for the old man had seen in the mansion for quite some time. ‘That girl would do this family a lot of good’ he thought silently to himself as he left them to sleep.

The following morning as Bruce discovered was quite eventful.

The young girl had woken up and been a tad upset that everything was damp from when she’d wet the bed in her sleep. Alfred had found it quite amusing to watch the young ward attempting to clean the girl himself, not wanting to leave her alone long enough to get help. A fair but futile endeavour as the young girl seem not at all drowsy as she had the night before and rather full of energy. Energy she directed at the Robin in the form of squirming out of his grasp wherever possible and battling with the steam of warm water of his bathroom sink.

Alfred saw fit to intervene only after invited by his young master in a soaking wet night shirt, instructing the young ward to go change.

The girl seemed satisfied with Alfred steady hand to allow him to bath her. Especially after she tried and failed at splashing him, only for his to duck aside as Dick came back in to say hi. Needless to say, Dick left once again to change.

Alfred also ended up being the one responsible of securing a nappy to the girl a Dick couldn’t follow any of the YouTube tutorials by the time Alfred had already finished.

Breakfast proved that Dick had learned nothing of the mornings events as he attempted to feed his newly proclaimed little sister. After learning that she’d didn’t do ‘aeroplane’ food and ‘spaceship’ food received a uncensored pfth, he just left the spoon in her capable hands.

He way then promptly hit with incoming mashed banana to the back of the head. Baby:15 –
Dick: love.

As a trained vigilante he should have known better then to underestimate his opponent.

“Ba. . . ” Dick never got to finish that sentence as another lump of  banana was catapulted straight into his mouth and he swallowed on reflex. 30 – love

Bruce walk in on the culinary assault; his ward was already covered in an assortment of mashed fruit. He also witnessed the child propel a clump of banana with sniper accuracy at the edge of Dick’s bowl of cereal. A bowl that proceeded to flip up onto Dicks head. and that’s game.

Bruce found the sight of Dick spluttering from the milk dripping down his face, rather amusing, but he will forever deny chuckling.

The non-existent chuckle caught the baby’s attention, causing her to search for more ammo. Bruce was not smug, read was completely too smug for someone who thought they’d just outsmarted a baby.

He diffidently wasn’t smug when the tiny plastic spoon embedded itself in the wall beside Bruce. The room was filled with silence bar the baby laughing at his stunned face.

“I do believe Master Bruce that any attempt to relocate the child may be met with some difficulty.” Alfred, as always was correct. Removing the bowl from his younger master’s head he continued. “I do believe you have a new little sister Master Dick.”

Dick looked unsure whether to be excited or terrified looking between the adults in the room. It was when his gaze fell to the baby’s joyous face, he chose the first.

Bruce settled for the middle ground. This was happening whether he liked it or not. On one hand he was still pretty sure this was a bad idea. On the other hand, he had both the resources and drive to investigate her origins and apparent super strength.

“You may be right Alfred.”

“Shall I inform the Wayne family lawyers then Master Bruce”

Bruce nodded. “should they ask this should be the last time I decide to take in a child.”

Bruce was proved wrong less than 3 weeks later when he caught a young boy attempting to steal his hub caps.

Extra: (I promised shenanigans)

Dick: Here comes the aeroplane Nnnnnroow

Baby: Meh (baby bats the spoon away)

Dick: Ok no plane. (Gets a look on his face that says I have the greatest idea ever) Here comes the spaceship, Whap, whap , whap.

Baby: Mah! (baby bats the spoon away again)

Dick: Ok I’m out of things that fly (puts spoon down to scratch head, baby picks up spoon and start poking her food.) I mean. .  . I guess that works

(Dick is confused but not looking a horse in the face and goes to get his cereal)

(Dick comes back with bowl of cereal that get shot out of his hands by projectile banana)

(Dick runs for cover as banana onslaught continues)

(Alfred comes in with a frying pan and defends himself Tangled style)

(Bruce walks in and is completely stunned as piece of banana goes straight through the frying pan and hits in the face)

(Bruce is not amused)

(The baby is)

Chapter Text

Bruce being an only child had never experienced the joys of sibling rivalry. But of course, he had been always been somewhat envious of those who did have sibling and the constant companionship. Companionship, Bruce learned, that got old very quickly.

It had taken Jason, his newly adopted son, less then 24 hours to get into a fight with his now older brother who had vigilante training and 5 years on him. Needless to say, the fight ended up with one boy chasing the other and only stopped when Marinette began crying.

After creating a fake identity for the girl as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the adoption process had gone smoothly, and anyone had yet to suspect the girl was anything other than an adorable young toddler. Officially her parents Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain were bakers who died in a shooting; common enough not so as to go unnoticed and traumatic enough to never mention.

Now Marinette Wayne, the youngest of the household, was somehow the most reasonable of his children. Despite the initial trails of dealing with his daughter’s super strength, the child was an angel, adored by all around her. As evident by the fact that she already had both of brothers wrapped around her finger and have perfected the fine art of baby doll eyes.

Dick had taken to taking pictures of his little sister and had a special folder for the pictures of all the mayhem she caused and all of her more interesting videos.

The very first picture in said folder was of an interesting one.

It was taken by Alfred on Jason’s first morning in the mansion. Bruce had asked the young boy how he’d slept.

Jason had responded in all his street kid glory with “Better, still kinda expected to be knifed in my sleep or some sh*t”

Marinette who was being brought down by Dick to be introduced to Jason, overheard the response and did as all young children do.

“Sh*t!” she exclaimed.

Jason whipped his head around to see the smiling toddler in the arms of a petrified Dick. Oh

“Sh*t!” Jason had to think for a moment if that was him or not.

“Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!” Nope the baby was sprouting it like crazy. He snuck a peak at Bruce and proceeded to run like hell

Bruce looked absolutely livid. The girls first word – that they knew of – and she had cussed. $%@!&%$!

The family favourite – minus Jason – was also a particularly eventful day for Jason to which the entire story simply must be told.

Having settled in the manor fairly well after the initial brawling with Dick a few days before, Jason was looking after Mari. He likes hanging out with her, she didn’t ask questions doesn’t have expectations, to her he’s just Jay-Jay. The nickname was a badge of honour won with pride, insult it and you lose a tooth.

“Jay-Jay! Come!” ever diligent Jason complied to the little pixie. Who’d been let crawl/walk, she was so close to walking on her own, around the garden with a tennis ball while he read a book.

“What’s up Pixie?” he asked curious as to what the girl wanted, as she was usually pretty complacent, with him at least – Dick had apparently been on her mischievous side. The guy had had sworn up and down to Jason the girl could be a little devil when she wanted to be.

Jason had laughed at that; hard. The girl was 3. How bad could she possibly be.

“Ball!” little Marinette cried pointing up to the tree where her ball had gotten caught amongst some of the higher branches. “can’t get it back.” She brought out her ultimate weapon baby doll eyes™.

The eyes were unnecessary but prompted a rare hug from the boy. “Don’t ya worry Pixie I’ll get ya ball back.” Looking at the tree, allowing his competitive streak to kick in “Watch this.”

Jason climbs the tree managing to hit himself with some of the flexible branches – earning laughter from his Pixie so he doesn’t mind – to claim back the yellow ball before jumping back down to the ground near Mari.

“How’d you get that ball up there anyway, Pixie?” he asked as he picked up Mari to give her the ball.

“Throw, Jay-Jay I throw”

“Throw!” he exclaimed humouring the young girl. Marinette was not impressed with that response.

“I Throwed it Jay-Jay” her pout was adorable

“Pixie there is no way you threw the ball that high. Your too little” he sealed his fate with that statement. Definitely not impressed with her brother lack of faith at her word, the little girl started squirming to be put down.

Jason complied silently. A part of him felt he should be worried that he would most likely be the target of Mari’s feats of strength. The other part of him said it was adorable watching her try to take a good stance to throw from as she spun around making herself dizzy.

Jason most certainly was not prepared for the ball to rocket out of Pixie’s hand, hit the mansion ricochet higher then bounce all around the garden into the assorted trees and monuments before hitting the tree he’d just climbed. It then landed promptly back in Mari’s tiny little hand.

Jason to the distress of the little Pixie fainted.

Tiny 3-year-old Marinette had come inside dragging Jason carefully from beneath his shoulder. This was around the time Dick realised they forgot the tell Jason his little sister was actually an alien for all they knew

this was around the same time that Dick saw fit to immortalise it, thus the hilarious image.

extra

Jason will deny it till the day he dies, but his favourite member of the 'photo album'. Was a picture taken by Bruce as he stumbled across Jason where he'd reading Peter Rabbit to Mari in the Library. They'd both fallen asleep of the armchair and had equally peaceful smiles on their faces

Chapter Text

Marinette was 4 today. At least according to the city, she was turning 4. Her Dad had never made a secret of where she came from, they just weren’t supposed to mention it outside the house.

Marinette didn’t quite understand but was content seeing as she never left the mansion much anyway, really what did it matter. Her family was just too much fun.

Marinette adored watching Ri-Ri – because she wasn’t supposed to call him Dick, that made Dad mad – do all those cool flips and swings on the trapeze. She loved Ri-Ri’s lessons even more; imagining herself being able to do all those tricks kept her doing her stretches every day, sometimes he’d even let her have fun on the parallel bars, he just had to move them closer together for her.

Jay-Jay was fun to hang out with too. He’d grab her half an hour before she went to bed. Then grab one of the massive, heavy books in the library. Shaky Spear’s stories were cool, and Mari loved all the funny voices and faces Jason made. Sometimes re-enact some of the fight scenes, there was never too much reading there anyway. Jason was just careful to pick them passages without cursing; he’d learnt his lesson.

Alfred was by far her favourite member of the household. He didn’t have school like her brothers and didn’t go to work like her Dad; the butler was home almost all the time, and when he did have to go out it gave Marinette time to bake him a surprise – usually macaroons, Marinette wasn’t sure what about the French biscuits intrigued her but the whole family agreed that they were delicious so. Alfred on top of introducing her to the exclusive Wayne kitchen, the Waynes minus Mari were more likely to cook themselves then dinner, also showed her how to pay attention. To watch, analyse and predict the situation, for the most likely outcome and most appropriate responses.

Bruce Wayne was many things Batman, renowned playboy, father of 3 but quitter was not one of them. That being said it had been officially one year since she’d crashed to earth and Bruce was still no closer to finding out where Marinette came from. So far, they’d done pretty well raising the little girl, super strength aside, she could easily pass for a normal toddler. Bruce once again toying with the idea of sending her to the local preschool.

But it wasn’t just her super strength that held him back from making that call. When Marinette had first been brought back to the manor, she, unsurprisingly, didn’t understand English. Now she would easily be able to hold a conversation with her would be peers, but the language wasn’t the only thing Marinette had picked up in the past year. Marinette was picking up skills left, right and centre, fast. Partially because of the language barrier she’d overcome in the past year, her ability to read body language far surpassed others her age. Jason already taken on the task of teaching the girl to read, slowly but surely, and found her already understanding Shakespeare, old-timey English and all. Dick had her doing stretches and basic gymnastics exercises as a channel for her abnormal strength. However, in all this extension of her mental and physical prowess they were also making it much harder to determine a base line of her abilities. How much had they taught her. How much had she already known.

The working theory to explain Marinette’s super strength and perhaps her accelerated thought process, though she could just be that smart on her own, was that she was an alien. There was just one thing wrong with this theory. They couldn’t prove it.

There were far too many questions and not enough answers. The ship she arrived in having proved just as futile a search for answers. At least they assumed it had been a ship, with what was left it was hard to tell. The vessel had barely survived impact, only the opening mechanism remained intact. Bruce suspect that if not for Marinette thick skin – inability to collect blood samples did not help their search – she would have died in the crash.

So here they were one year later, surrounding the little girl as she was about to blow out the candles, no closer to solving the mystery that was their little ball of sunshine.

But standing there watching his little girl practically vibrating with excitement, he knew that it didn’t matter. Whatever the girl was, wherever she’d come from, he knew who she was now. God help the man who dared even attempt to hurt her.

“Blow out the candles Cupcake!” Dick was very appreciative of his little sister’s baking

“Make a wish Pixie Pop”, the ‘pop’ was added after the ball incident.

Alfred stood, camera at the ready, as Marinette was standing on tiptoes upon her chair. The girl squeezed her eyes tight in deep concentration. “aaaahhhhoooooooo!”

The family burst into applause.

Dick came up to Mari with the large kitchen knife. “Let’s cut to the chase shall we.”

The family sans birthday girl groaned. Mari just laughed.

Dick carefully grabbed his sister’s hands and guided her to cut the first slice of the pinkest cake the manor had ever seen. “How’s about we make sure we don’t cut the plate this time Cupcake.”

Mari pouted at the reference to the dinner fiasco of last week, which easily made its way into Dick’s scrapbook. A scrapbook that had been expanded to include the rest of the family’s photos of Mari.  The scrapbook had become quiet the inside joke in the family. Oh God The Teething. Mari had been found atop many a grim, Jason was willing to bet there was no longer a grim in Gotham that hadn’t had its ear ‘adjusted’ by Pixie Pop. Even the Bat signal had not been spared, if the mangled bat shaped it threw up into the sky one night was anything to go off of. The GCPD was of the firm belief they just had a rat problem.

“That was one time”, Mari’s pout was adorable

“One time this week,” Bruce interjects, the pout target was adjusted.

“But I can dos it! I can even dos it betterer than you!” Dick just smiled it off as did the rest of the household, minus Alfred. Alfred know better than to underestimate the girl.

The knife was removed from Dick’s hand in a flash. Before the Batfam’s eyes the cake was sliced up into 5 even pieces. Each piece disappearing from the cake platter and reappearing Infront of the recipient.

Before Bruce could even blink Mari was sitting back in her chair not a care in the world as she began devouring the mass of pink before her.

They could apparently add super speed to his daughter’s list of abilities. Right after making Jason faint.

Extra (curtesy of SilverWiteRaven):

Jonathan watching Martha wrangle in a newly-speedy child,

Jonathan: Well, if we ever get sheep, we know he can herd them better than a sheep dog now.

Martha: Not helping, Jonathan!!

Chapter Text

Black. Everything was black. Marinette hated it. Black suits. Black dresses. Black umbrellas. Even the skies of Gotham where black. Black and crying. Just like she was.

The proclaimed sunshine of Gotham stood in black, tear framing her usually bluebell eyes. Bluebell ringed with blood red. Blood. She’d never bled herself, but she’d seen plenty of it when helping Alfred tend to her family’s wounds from they’re nightly activities. Marinette had never been so affected by it before. Then again, she’d also never seen a body before.

But now.

Her family stood over Jason’s grave. Richard had already cried all his tears for the day, but his eyes were still raw and tinged with red. Alfred stood behind him, eyes wet but the tears refused to fall, holding the umbrella. Her Dad. Bruce had been hit the hardest she knew, but he showed it the least. Mari just stood there unmoving as she stared at the casket, they lowered it down into the ground, they spoke words she didn’t hear, gave prays she couldn’t understand. She stood motionless though it all.

Before she knew it, Alfred was kneeling down beside her. “Marinette,” he spoke softly. She moved for the first time in over an hour. Her eyes still stinging with tears as she turns to meet the gaze of the man she’d always seen as her grandfather. Then he spoke the words that brought her words crashing down. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

Marinette collapsed into the older man’s arm. “No!” she screamed, her first closing around the butler’s suit. “No! No. No. no. no, n n n”. Sobs shook her to her core as she felt a pair of arms encompass her.

The sky still cried its big fat tears, but she couldn’t feel them. Nor did she feel the cold bite as a gust blew through her already soaked dress.

There was so much yet so little she wanted to say. “it’s not fair”, she whispered.

Alfred still heard her. Pulling even further into his embrace. “The world rarely is.” A hard truth, but a truth none the less.

 A few weeks later

Marinette was many things, happy was not currently one of them.

It had been a normal morning, or so she’d thought, until she’d come downstairs to young teenager she’d never seen.

The young boy looked up from his cereal to introduce himself. Tim.

It was around that time that Dad came in. He told her of the night before where Tim had broken into the Batcave. Marinette was not happy to learn that someone had both learned of her father’s identity and had effectively blackmailed him with it even if the blackmail was just in the form of training him to become the next robin.

The rest of breakfast was Marinette subtly side-eyeing Tim from across the table, him unawares.

After breakfast Bruce pulled her aside. Marinette was still annoyed, but she followed the gist of the conversation. Tim had found out about Bruce, the Batman, and Dick, the first Robin now Nightwing, but was unaware of abilities. He also informed her that Tim would be staying and while she should try to get along with her new brother her secrets were hers to share.

The gears in Marinette’s head began turning before her father even half finished their conversation.

Maybe she should try to get to know her new brother better, Dick would be on board with that.

Oh, this week just became a whole lot more fun.

Chapter Text

Mari decided to start small, after she had to get a feel for just what Tim could handle.

It had started with his phone. Sneaking into his room was far too easy. Keeping in mind that the manor had been her home for as long as she could remember, Dick and Bruce had begun low key training with her, and Alfred was way too much fun to imitate, it was to be expected.

“óvis nim rOZúm RO}p.”

It wasn’t until Tim had come home from school the first day that he discovered that Dick’s ring tone had been changed. The teacher had not been pleased with the interruption of her class.

'Star Trekking across the universe

On the star ship enterprise under Captain Kurt

Star Trekking across the universe

Only going forward ‘cause we can’t find reverse’

Dick had heard about the initial incident and had cornered Tim that same afternoon. They found that all his ringtones had been changed.

               Bruce – Mars bringer of war, From ‘The Planets’, Gustav Holst

               Alfred – Star Treking

               Everything else - Public Service Broadcasting, Sputnik (find here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=It42TsD7_sI&feature=youtu.be&list=PLvoWrbmtGFJ3D98x2gDlQnoEIcQnYRvlw)

To say Dick was amused was an understatement. He was bent over laughing. To him it was obvious what had happened, but alas for Tim, he knew better then to be on his sister’s warpath. No. Best to get out of the blast radius as fast as possible.

The evening was very uninformative for Tim, who dismissed the event as a happy accident. The ringtone had he very quickly established amongst the geeks and the nerds. They decided that the new kid couldn’t be too bad, if he was daring enough to broadcast a love of Sci-fi for all the world to hear.

Prank 1 was now complete. ‘Well,’ thought Marinette, “time to up the ante.”

Making him chase his shoes around for 5-10 minutes for a few days was hilarious. Dick even helped her by accidentally, he truly didn’t realise until it was too late, closing the door on Tim as he ran after the runaway shoes. The boys then proceeded to walk and searched for 15 minutes before realising they were hanging from the chandelier. Dick had fun getting them down again.

Truth be told green was a good colour on Tim. Too bad he didn’t agree with her when it was painted over his face with the edition of black alien eyes. The funniest part was when he’d woken up and hadn’t realised it was there and went down to breakfast with the makeover still intact. Only the ever-stoic batman could fight the need to laugh. She got Alfred to chuckle, she called that a win. The images of that morning would forever be a family favourite in the scrapbook.

Tim’s not sure when tiny, green, toy soldiers started following him. Honestly after the first few incidents he started doubting everything.

He thinks one of the first ones showed up was the platoon he found in his bathroom, aiming at him when he opened the cabinet. Toy soldiers? in the bathroom cupboard? Thing is he blinked, and they were gone. He just dismissed it as early morning daydreaming. This is why he needed coffee

Then they were in his cereal. He was ready to call Alfred when they’d already disappeared. Again, there one minute there, gone the next.

Okay the first it was his bathroom, then it was his cereal now they were everywhere he looked.

It was the 15^th? 16^th? Such sighting of the toys that Dick had been present for. Dick saw the soldiers. Tim was sure of it. The first robin remained silent. But that smirk. Ugh.

This is how Tim concluded that Dick knew what was going on and had no intention of sharing. Marinette walked in as her eldest brother walked out. A blessing, Tim decided.

Marinette had grown up with Dick. If anyone knew what the eldest was hiding, and would actually tell him, it would be his innocent little sister. He launched straight into an explanation of the past few days, the ringtones, the teleporting shoes, the disappearing figurines and referring her back to the midnight makeover she’d witness a few days prior.

After watching the little girl have a good laugh, she considered his story a moment before she replied.

“Sounds like you upset some little green men, to me.”

With that she left Tim slack jawed and let him torture himself over her carefully chosen words.

Let the trolling begin

Now this is what Marinette was waiting for.

Tim was on to her. Kinda. He knew someone or something was after him. He just would sooner cry ghost then blame Marinette for his recent misfortune. After all how could anyone blame the sweet 7-year-old. Was Marinette ashamed of using her age to her advantage? If people were going to think her incapable for her age then no, she had no problem at all.

Therefore, Marinette’s epiphany was that she no longer needed to lift so much as a finger to mess with Tim. He was doing all the heavy lifting for her. Watching him jump at his own shadow was just a tad satisfying. Did that make her a bad person. Just a tad. Tim was gonna learn what it meant to blackmail the bats, even if she technically wasn’t a bat or a vigilante yet the principle applied.

But like all good things it ended with a bang.

Messing with his stuff was almost too easy. She was carefully not to ruin it, and to make sure it wasn’t too important. She was pretty sure that was the only reason Dad had let her get away with this for as long as she had.

When she saw the look her father gave her on her second day of no pranks – she was thinking of outing herself anyway, she’d way underestimated Tim paranoia, it was getting cruel – she knew what she had to do.

“Hey Tim,” she called to him from across the table when she’d finished eating. Tim looked up from his half-finished dinner, exhausted from the previous week. OK she’d gone overboard.

“Yeah?”

she couldn't resist “Oh, not much. Just thought you’d like to know aliens are real, I am one and I’ve been using my alien abilities to get back at you for blackmailing my dad,” she replied with a straight face, a monotone voice and without taking a breath.

The dinning room was silent. Not because anyone other then Tim had actually learned anything new in that sentence. They were just shocked that she’d been so up front about it and just spat it out in a matter that was going to destroy poor Tim mind.

While the family was still recovering from her bomb drop Marinette stood up. “On a completely unrelated note, I’ll be sewing in my room if anyone needs me.”

With that she sped out of the dining room at superspeed.

Tim started bug-eyed, at the departure of the youngest Wayne.

It took a moment for him to process what had happened. Without removing his eyes from the doorway.

“Is Alfred an alien too” Tim whispers to Bruce. All too aware that Alfred could be listening. A hand is placed on his shoulder. “Ahh!”

“I assure you I am quite human Master Tim.” Speak of the devil. If one looked closely, they could see Alfred smirk as he spoke. “I am simply very good at my job. I would suggest you all finish dinner. And when you’ve finished
Master Tim, I would recommend that you join your sister in her room. I will go and ensure that she plans to give you a proper explanation and an apology for the past weeks events.” With that Alfred left.

Tim’s mind seemed to finally catch up with everything.

In the past week he had blackmailed Batman, one of if not the most powerful man in Gotham. In doing so he had pissed of the daughter of said powerful man who was secretly an alien who he'd never see coming.

Tim was ready to start questioning his life.

Chapter Text

Life was looking up for Marinette Wayne.

The paparazzi hadn’t been able to critique the lot of them in months. Her sewing skills had really come along. Though her current project was knitting a scarf for her brother Tim and her dress for her first Gala in a few weeks’ time. Their relationship had really come a long way since the beginning of the now dubbed ‘Prank War of Gotham’ 2 ½ years ago. While coming from a rocky start Marinette can now honestly call Tim, brother, and vis versa.

From the vigilante side of things, crime was actually calming down for once. Tim was really taken to his role of Robin. Nightwing’s work in Budhaven while not as obvious was making a notable difference. Lastly the prank war was ongoing it was more taking advantage of opportunity then plotting, Dick had long since joined in, and if things went too far Bruce would dish out punishment appropriately, especially when the no pranks on patrol rule is breached.

On the plus side being constantly alert for pranks had upped all of their awareness and gave them a plausible reason to be so aware, of their surroundings which was great for when the rest of her family went on patrol – Marinette was still too young but didn’t mind. Why

1. She did not have anywhere near enough training yet, she 10 for crying out loud.
2. School was tiring enough without it. Why? Her superpowers. That’s why.

Super strength was apparently another way to say super clumsy. A trait everyone at school had noticed. Hitting the ground to hard while walking meant choosing to trip apparently, especially if you didn’t want to accidently super jump over the school. The nicknames were still floating around but  

Invulnerable skin meant she couldn’t afford to put herself in a situation where, if she were human, she could be hurt. For fear that she wouldn’t have an injury that she ought to have after some accident or another.

Super speed meant having to write, walk and talk slowly and in pace with the person next to her in case she accidently slipped into superspeed.

Thankfully the one thing she didn’t have to deal with is bullying. That boat had sailed after she’d been face to face with the Riddler and called him out on his fashion of all things.

So aside from school yard mishaps life was great for Marinette who was now 10 years old. Her birthday party as always was a fall family occasion and Marinette cut the cake, at super speed for laughs.

Of course, with everything going so well Marinette should have just seen this coming. After all, fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice.

Well Marinette had as it seems been made the fool as she stood staring at her father’s face. Only it wasn’t her father’s face, this face way newer. Smaller. Younger. This face belonged to Damian Al-Ghoul, the apparent blood son of Bruce Wayne and boy did he know it.

Marinette had once again come down for breakfast on a seemingly normal day only to find a different unfamiliar face at the table.

“Did my dad adopt you too?” she asked as any normal person would.

“Tt. My father” Say What Now? “did not adopt me. I am his blood son and therefor his rightful heir. You are dismissed.”

‘Okay rude. Also, on a side note, WHAT!?!?!?!’

Marinette was going to get to the bottom of this. Careful to walk out of the room at normal speed – if this brat was going to learn she had powers it would be on her terms, when she could watch – to find her Dad. She was not too happy with the response.

Bruce and both her brothers, when had Dick gotten back, why did no one tell her, in her father’s study. They all froze at the sight of her in the doorway. They all remembered the events that had taken place with Tim they were hoping she wouldn’t be up for another half hour.

When her family refused to break the silence, Marinette took it upon herself. “Anyone want to tell me why there is a boy at the dining room table downstairs.” Seeing as none of them looked ready to answer. “Better yet why does he look like dad; it wouldn’t have anything to do with him saying he’s a blood son whatever that is?”

The awkward silence continued.

Marinette put on her disapproving face; Alfred would be so proud.

“Mari,” dick said tentatively, before mumbling “oh God how do we explain this,” to Tim.

Tim picked up from his brother, “You see Mari when two people love each other very mu. . . ”

“I’ve already had this talk Tim, I asked Alfred 2 months ago.”

The family stared dumbfound. Marinette continued “Anyway what’s that got to do with this?”

Awkward silence again.

“It has to do with my father and my mother.” The boy from the dining table spoke from behind her.

“Explain.” Demanded Marinette to the boy, her family were clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but the boy clearly wasn’t.

“Tt. I don’t answer to you.”

“Damian.” Her Father’s voice held a scolding tone. Nice to put a name to the nameless boy’s face.

The boy, Damian, Marinette corrected, shot Bruce a looked that spoke quite plainly. ‘I have plenty to say and I am not happy for this interruption.’

What a brat. Marinette was liking this guy less and less. So much for life looking up. it was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

If the manor had been hectic back when Dick and Jason had been fighting now it was about to become an absolute war zone with the two youngest Waynes at the centre of it all.

At least when it had been the boys going at it, they hadn’t actually tried to hurt each other. Much.

Marinette and Damian on the other hand were going at it like a pair of feral cats. Why?

Well it all started with Damian explaining that he was Bruce’s biological son.

“My mother has said I am to stay here in Gotham until the matters with the league now that Grandfather is dead.”

That was fine. Understandable even, Marinette felt sorry that he had to leave his life, while not a particularly nice, behind. Marinette couldn’t even imagine life without Alfred, the loss of a grandparent must be hard. It was his response to her attempt at an introduction that was definitely not fine. Neither was the blade at her throat, where had he even hid it.

               “I have no intention of partaking in any activity with those who are beneath me. Any of your simplistic, girlish games do not interest me. Nor do I wish to see or speak to you anymore then absolutely necessary. My only interest is in becoming My Father’s true heir and successor, you are not currently an obstacle on this path, and it would do you well not to become one. Understood?”

So, let’s recap, Elitist, and he’s sexist, and to top it off a smug, know-it-all who got a kick out of annoying his ‘obviously inferior’ peers. She used the term peers very loosely. He didn’t let her reply either.

               “If you even think of using your ‘abilities’ to challenge me, you will find no feet of strength of speed capable of saving you.”

He vanished. Leaving Marinette alone in the corridor. Pissed. He knew her secret. He knew her secret and was threatening her. He was going down.

The next morning at breakfast both the children, Tim was more adult then child, came down to breakfast. Everyone else was at work so it was just them and Alfred, who would be dropping Marinette off at school. The meal was more sideways glances, glares and growls then food. Marinette had been so distracted by her brooding she failed to notice the time. Forgoing her already discovered secret Marinette practically inhaled her remaining breakfast at super speed, grab her bag and ran full speed at the door. Or at least that was her intent.

Damian’s foot tripping and sending her flying though the door and tumbling across the floor most definitely was not.

Marinette looked back over her shoulder to see Damian swiftly tucking his foot back under the table. He sat facing his cereal, but she didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking.

Oh, how she wished the signature ‘bat-glare’ she was sending his way could make him explode. She would settle for setting him on fire at this point. A traitorous part of her was picturing doing just that the old fashioned was with the matches in the kitchen.

Alfred punctual as ever called out. School beckoned.

Damian had struck first, Marinette reminded herself as she snuck into his room that afternoon. Damian was down training in the Batcave when she got home, good. Some revenge pranks for this morning were in order.

Damian had found himself rather pleased with how productive the day had been. Identifying the rooms of each of his father’s ward and any possible escape routes for both him and his, ugh, brothers. His brothers were going to be an interesting obstacle to overcome. What with their presence in Father’s life exceeding his own. Convincing Father to throw them out would be near impossible, apparently. An unexpected, but not impossible hurdle.

Damian pondered as he proceeded up to the room he’d been assigned. Would it not simply be easier to kill them. Grayson had been a member of the family the longest his death would reflect poorly on Damian. Drake on the other had apparently imposed himself upon the family. Yes, if there were to be any hard feelings for either of the boys it would be Drake and what’s more Drake currently held the mantle of Robin removing him would leave the position wide open for him to assume his rightful role as his Father’s true heir.

Ridding himself of Drake was the perfect answer. Batman would need a Robin and there was no else he could ask. Certainly not that metahuman Marinette. The file from the League of Assassins was severely limited. Super speed and super strength were confirmed but the origins of both could only be speculated. It was as if the child had fallen from the sky how she had just appeared overnight. The girl was hardly trained and clumsy, his father couldn’t possibly make her Robin.

Damian opened the door to his aforementioned assigned room. Damian was not happy

The entire room was covered. With guess what

Pink and purple glitter littered the floor covering every crevasse. An assortment of bows of all shapes and sizes have been tied to everything. Lastly tiny stuffed toys complete with glitter and bows were overflowing on his bed. Once particularly large teddy bear holding an envelope sat on his desk.

His room was a tsunami of colour, glitter and fluff, but all Damian saw was red.

Seething.

Hot.

Angry.

red.

He marched over to the poor bear and practically ripped the envelope from its grasp.

Make that murderous red. As he stormed of to find his sister and his katannas.

Extra the note

‘Damian let me be frank

I don’t like you, and I don’t think you like me either. So, if you won’t play nice then neither will I.

If you’re going to insult me and stereo type me then I’ll make sure you understand just how over done those stereotypes are.

In short. I’m not out to get you, I’m out to get even. Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you

Your sister, whether you like it or not, Marinette’

Chapter Text

Marinette had kept her word. For every jab Marinette had an equally if not more annoying retaliation.

Damian stole her drawing supplies in retaliation for the stolen katannas. Aka, he had given up looking after 3 hours and held her stationary for ransom. He also skewered all of the stuff toys with what ever daggers and pointed implements he could find and ripped the bows to shreds. That would teach her.

Marinette returned the swords, she knew they were katannas, she just wanted to annoy him. Damian thinking he’d won foolishly returned the stationary. He returned to his room to find nothing amiss, glitter, bows and toys had all disappeared. Good. That is until he was brushing his teeth and a stuff toy fell on his head. He grabbed it on reflex. Damian examined the toy in more detail he realised it was one of the toys on his bed earlier, this one was a dog. A dog he taken pleasure in destroying earlier that evening, that was now whole and containing all its stuffing. How?

Oh no. Damian looked up to the ceiling, every inch of which was covered in glitter, bows and stuffed animals, all of which had been remade and rearranged out of his reach. How had she even managed to get anything up on the ceiling? Better question how was he going to get it all down?

Fuming Damian made a beeline for his ‘sister’s’ room. Unfortunately for Damian the door while it wasn’t locked clearly wasn’t budging

Damian wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do only that it would be bad

He’d figure it out in the morning.

* * *

Patience was a virtue; one Damian did not have. Every night he’d slipped silently out of his room in an attempt in infiltrate his sister’s, the word still tasted like venom on his tongue, room. Each night the door would be unlocked but also unmoving. It infuriated him no end. His only thought was that Marinette had barricaded the door each night, a task she no doubt took advantage of her super strength to accomplish, if her slight frame was anything to go off.

Damian deduced that he would therefor be unable to enter her room while she was asleep. The windows hadn’t budged, and the blinds had obscured any hope of recon. School meant that Damian was out of the house the only time Marinette ever seemed to leave. So, if he wanted to catch her, he had only a small window of time.

Damian had gotten up early to ensure he be ready.

He waited for the quiet shuffling of whatever the youngest Wayne, he revelled in the fact that he was all of 3 months older, bared her door with. Damian remained silent and still. It was only when Marinette took her second step outside of the room he attacked, swift and efficient plunging his dagger straight into the annoyance’s chest, just as he was trained. He looked up to see the life leave her eyes. Instead Damian was met with a smirk. WHAT. THE. HELL.

Marinette obviously enjoying her brother’s confusion grasped her hands around his. Pushing the dagger from her chest, where bare, clean and untouched skin lay beneath a single slice in the fabric of her PJs.

She smiled as her eye darted down to her hands then back up to meet Damian’s. an indication to look down himself. The still somewhat shell-shocked assassin’s curiosity got the best of him.

The knife had crumpled like paper against stone. A steel dagger had given before the soft and malleable skin of the girl before him.

Marinette decided this was the perfect time to leave her brother to his breakdown and left to go about her day.

* * *

Marinette file said, super strength and super speed. It said NOTHING about invulnerability. Any hopes of eliminating Marinette flew out the window. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Marinette could fly out the window.

There was no way this day could get any worse. Or so he thought. about half a dozen stuffed toys had fallen from the ceiling to his bed and they'd brought glitter with them. at least flight would explain how she got everything up there.

* * *

It became obvious to the household very quickly that something was seriously wrong with their little sunshine child. She was the first to give someone a chance, assuming they didn’t attack her family – if Tim hadn’t resorted to black mail he would have been in for a much nicer welcome to the family – Marinette was very kind and supportive. Instead Damian had received sideways glares and scowls whenever Marinette thought he wasn't looking. He was the world's detective for a reason. That and it is literally impossible to hide anything from Alfred.

Bruce had not expected Marinette to be the one Damian fought with. He as a truly optimistic parent had hoped that all of his children were mature enough not to fight any more. You wish Bruce. While Damian was far more cautious and subtle with his jabs, both verbal and physical, it was obvious even to Bruce that the 10-year-olds were not getting along by any means.

He dreaded the Gala, one week was not long enough for the two to learn to get along. He couldn’t not attend himself, but neither could he, in good conscience, take either of the 10-year-old with the way they were both acting. Marinette was not going to like this. Not at all

bonus-that-is-in-noway-canon-to -he-story-but-is-still-funny-anyway, curtesy of Bbgirl3191 ;D

Bruce: “I’m sorry, but you can’t go to the Gala”

Mari: *gasp* “But papa!! FASHION!! PRETTY DRESSES!!”

Chapter Text

Tonight, Marinette was supposed to be at the Gala. She was supposed to be wearing her pretty dress she’d spent so many long hours working on. She was supposed to be hanging out with Tim and talking about how stupid all the adults were.

Instead she was flopped face first into a pile of hay.

Why you ask?

Damian.

Stupid. Full of himself. Damian.

That’s why.

It was one thing to mess with Marinette, she could take it, it was another to mess with her family.

24 hours ago (2 days after the glitter incident)

Dad had pulled her aside to talk.

“Marinette. Sweetie.” Bruce only called her that when he knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “We need to talk about you and Damian.” Yep she definitely wasn’t going to enjoy this conversation.

Nevertheless, she followed her father diligently into his study.

Marinette has spent all of her life, that she remembers, in this house. She knows her family has never been one for expressing profound emotion, but Marinette had long since learned how to read the Waynes. With that in mind, her dad was obviously uncomfortable and had no idea how to start this conversation even if he refused to show it.

“Marinette,” he began, this was going to be so painful to watch, “I know you and Damian havn’t exactly been getting along -”, understatement of the year, “but I really think you should try to get along it would be good for both of you.”

“Daaad.” Marinette did not like how whiny that came out. “He’s such a brat. He tried t-” Marinette was cut off by her father.

“Marinette, Damian grew up with a lot of bad people, he doesn’t know any better yet, I’m hoping that you can be a good example to him of how someone his age should behave.” Her dad wasn’t serious. Was he?

“I know it’s a lot to ask but I really don’t want to make you stay home for the Gala bec-”

“WHAT!!!” pretty sure that Dick heard that from Buddhaven.

“Marinette, our family is in the public eye we can’t afford to be seen fighting. Damain we have to be introduced to the public, probably at the gala. And if you two can’t behave then you’ll just have to stay home.”

“But Dad that’s not Fair!”

“Life often isn’t” Bruce said with a sigh. Before leaving Marinette in the room alone.

She couldn’t believe it. She was being made to play nice.

This was not going to end well.

Marinette did not last even 24-hours, into the whole no fighting with Damian thing. Through it seems no told Damian that no fighting with your siblings included all the siblings.

Apparently, Damian had switch targets from the indestructible sister to the very much destructible brother.

Tim had been sent home after Damian had stolen an old robin’s uniform, highjacked patrol and attempted to cut Tim’s grapple wire mid-swing.

Marinette.

Was.

Pissed.

And she made sure Damian knew it the second he stepped through the Batcave’s entrance.

Marinette completely disregarded her father’s presence. Practically diving after Damian, the moment his foot was in the cave. She saw red, as they rolled around on the ground. Two 10-year-olds fighting for dominance.

Damian, currently still in the robin’s uniform he stole, got the upper hand as he delivered a sharp knee to her stomach. Allowing him time to stand and draw the twin katannas at his sides.

Marinette couldn’t hear the threat that spewed from his lips. Instead she rushed him at superspeed and sped past him katannas in tow.  When Damian, who obviously did not have superspeed, caught up enough to see her standing there with his favourite weapon, he was furious, and it showed.

Marinette’s eyes narrowed at this as she bent the twin blades, knotting them together before throwing them to the floor.

Both children stared at each in outrage. Begging the other to attack first.

It was now Bruce intervened. Bringing himself between the two his twisted his head to look at his daughter. “MARINETTE WAYNE GO TO YOUR ROOM NOW!!!”

Marinette started at her father in shock. Damian had just attacked and nearly killed Tim. But she was in trouble.

“But Da-” she was cut off mid protest.

“Go To Your Room Now!” Marinette was scared, Dad had never yelled at her like this before, but she was also infuriated at the smirk she could see on Damian’s face.

The downside to super speed is that the ability to make a split-second decision and not think it through comes with the bonus that no one else will be fast enough to stop you.

So, Marinette made what was possible the worst decision possible then several others to follow.

First, she grabbed Damian by the robin suit he had no right to wear and ran. Ran right up the side of the Batcave wall. The brat still grasped firmly in her had yet to register what was happening as he was hang securely from the rafters of the Batcave.

Marinette proceeded to run as fast as she could out of the Batcave and to her room. She practically flew through her room grabbing anything she through she’d need. A change of clothes: not fancy she’d need to blend in, retail only. Her phone had GPS so she couldn’t take that, but she’d taken her wallet and credit card for emergencies. A shoe box under her bed held her most prized possessions it was wrapped up in the cloths she selected and placed in her school bag. A quick dash in her bathroom and she had a hairbrush and hair ties.

Less then 2 seconds later she was down in the kitchen grabbing a butter knife, fork, spoon, bowl and one of the old tea towels. Finally, she shoved in whatever canned food she could fit in the bag and race off into the night before her father had time to get Damian down from the ceiling let alone out of the cave.

Marinette just kept running. Past Gotham and dark clouds overhead. Past the familiar landscape and city until the air no longer smelled like the home she’d always known. She wasn’t sure how long she’d run or how far she’d got but when she did finally stop, she had not idea where she was.

In the middle of a field, corn probably, with seemingly no one for miles around.

It was then that the weight of what happened caught up to her.

She’d attacked Damian.

She’d grabbed her thing.

She’d run away from home.

A moment later and she realise she’d grabbed enough to be prepared to run away from home. How had she gone from never having a single thought on the matter to single-handedly planning her escape in a matter of nanoseconds. She’d never thought of running away before. Had she?

‘Breathe Marinette just breath.’ She told herself thankful for Alfred, who would be so disappointed in her ri- No, no thinking about that right now.

Marinette seemed to have wondered further in her scattered thoughts, at super or normal speed she had no idea. Regardless she was now at the edge of the field, a barn to her left and a farmhouse a while to her right. She was on a farm then. That was of absolutely no help to her right now. Helpful would be a roof over her head. That and a place to rest. She was tired, she’d never run that fast that long.

Marinette knew she could no wake up early to save her life, tired-as-Marinette obviously did not know that and thought she could get away with sleeping in the barn for the night and leave before anyone found her.

‘What could go wrong?’ Marinette thought as she quite literally hit the hay piled in the corner of the barn. Don’t ask how she got in the barn, she’s a bat, and you should never questions a bat’s ability to break into anything.

Chapter Text

There are a lot of things Clark Kent has come to expect from life.

He expects that he can pick up an ear of corn and accidentally pull up the whole stalk. He expects when he’s running late on his morning chores or wants to go a little faster, he’ll suddenly end up on the other side of the farm. He also expects that no matter how clumsy or stupid he’s being he’ll never have so much as a bruise to show for it.

Needless to say, after 7 years of weirdness there was very little that would surprise 10-year-old Kent.

Apparently finding a random girl sleeping in the barn was one of them.

His morning had consisted at getting up at dawn as usual, grabbing a quick bite from the kitchen, saying good morning to Ma and Pa and going out to start his chores only to find a tiny girl curled up on the hay.

Was this some kind of joke. Clark was pretty sure it wasn’t April. This was so weird.

Torn between getting his parents and waking the sleeping girl, his ma made the decision for him. “Clark are you okay in there.”

Clark looked to the tiny girl looking for any signs of her waking. Now that he looked closer Clark swore, he’d seen her before, somewhere, but he couldn’t place it.

Clark was so deep in his concentration he failed to notice his mother’s approaching footsteps until she was right on top of him. “Oh, my word. Clark get your father; he’ll want to see this.”

Clark obediently sped off; the girl was clearly asleep, but he didn’t want to miss a second of this.

* * *

The first thing Marinette felt as she began emerging from drowsiness was pain. Not I been stabbed and I’m dying pain, more I slept on the floor with Jason because my beds too small for both of us and I’m feeling it the morning after pain. Which was weird because she hadn’t done that since Jason died and her bed was far to comfortable for her to be feeling like this.

Marinette opened her eyes and saw blunt yellow straw were she expected bright pink sheets.

Memories of the night before came flooding back. Right, she ran away. Why did she think that was a good idea again? Because Dad Bruce and Damian were ganging up on her.

She broke into the barn and fell asleep on a thing of hay, if she remembered correctly. She should leave before she’s found.

A quick blink of her eyes showed that way no longer a possibility.

“AHH!”

Well shit.

* * *

Whoever said watching a girl you found in your family’s barn, as she slept on a pile of hay was weird had undersell in the awkward factor dramatically.

Clark sill could shake the feeling that he knew her from somewhere. He leaned in a little closer, as if proximity would somehow make things clearer. What he hadn’t expected was for her to open her eyes at that exact moment.

The resulting scream mad that quite clear.

Clark continued to stumble backward in shock resulting in his tripping over a rake that had been left on the ground. In an attempt to not accidently super-stomp the thing into splinters he ended up tripping over his own two feet into one of the posts (I’m working off the barn from Smallville). Simply thankful he’d managed to not knock/snap the beam yet again he failed to account for his surroundings. So, to finish off with a bang a metal bucket fell off the walking platform above and onto his head with a resounding clang.

Damn his powers making him so clumsy.

Through the metal surround his ear he her an unfamiliar voice call out

“Are you Ok?”

‘Must be the girl’ thought to himself realising that his series of clumsiness would probably have hurt a normal person. Just as well he wasn’t normal. N ow all he had to do was try and play this off like it didn’t hurt much. A task that would be infinitely easier if he actually knew what it meant to be hurt. It was a little hard to imitate a feeling you’d never felt before.

Clark began to take the offending bucket off his head. The scene hadn’t changed much except the girl was now standing instead of lying down, she also seems only a fraction shorter then himself. She was probably about his age then. He observed her as he stood up. Taking in as many details as possible as if one would lead him to place the face.

The girl was puzzling, she couldn’t be local. Her clothes were to clean and unworn. Must all the kids he went to school with, had to the sixth hand-me-downs. Clark was pretty sure the shirt he was wearing right now had once belonged to his Dad.

Maybe she was a relative of someone he knew. Black hair that had a sheen to it almost blue and blue bell eyes that seem to be studying him just as he was her? Had he even seen that combo before? How common were black hair and blue eyes? Like aside from looking in a mirror, because he didn’t count unless this girl also, by some miracle, processed super strength and speed there was simple no way they could be related.

* * *

Marinette had been having somewhat of a different thought process.

‘He has dark hair and blue eyes; father must never meet him. Lord knows I already have too many brothers.’

* * *

The pair descended into what seemed to be a staring match as the mentally took apart one another. After all could anyone expect any less from the daughter of the bat and future top reporter at the daily planet.

“I don’t suppose you two would like to come inside for breakfast now.”

The stares were halted only to see Mrs Kent, who’d come in to check on Clark and to see if their guest had woken up yet.

* * *

Marinette moved first. Stepping backward to grab her pack as she spoke. “N-n-no thanks. I-I’ll just b-be on m-my way”. ‘Damn I thought I’d kicked that stupid stutter by now’

“Sorry to have bothered you.” She spoke as she began training her eyes on the barn door ready to leave. ‘Better. Now let’s see if I can’t get out of her without making an even biggest fool of myself shall we.’

Her plan was foiled as the woman stepped in front of her arms wide.

“Nonsense, you look half-starved to death.” Running at superspeed tended to have that affect. effect “I wouldn’t feel right letting you fend for yourself. Come along.” There was no point arguing the woman reminded her of Alfred and mostly like, also like Alfred, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

‘Looks like I’m not getting out of here any time soon. Farther is going to kill me when I get home. Damian would no doubt love to help him.’

* * *

The look of defeat left no doubt in Martha’s mind.

There was no stopping Martha Kent from adopting this little girl.

Chapter Text

Marinette could think on many things considering the circumstances as they were; she’d broken in to some random barn had accidently slept in – as if she ever could manage to wake up on time – and been discovered by a young boy and a woman who were most likely the owner of said barn.

Among the possible outcomes was most definitely the scream of surprise upon being found, the boy who found her had seemed an even clumsier then her. This might not be Gotham, but Marinette was 90% sure, movies were unreliable at best, that the in country your just as likely to be shot at for trespassing on a farm as you are to be mugged in the streets of her home.

Could she really call it that anymore?

“You coming?” called the boy dragging her from her thoughts. This was ridiculous the guy who’d just tripped over himself trying to get away from her, was now smiling and beckoning her into his home. HaD tHe WoRlD gOnE nUtS.

You Don’t Invite Strangers Into Your Home. COMON SENSE PEOPLE. Did the country make you stupid? Next you were going to tell her people left their front doors open and cars unlocked.

In summary there were many ways this could have ended in Marinette’s mind, but none of them included pancakes.

Yet here she sat at a random table, with random people and pancakes. Could this day get any weirder?

With Marinette’s luck probably.

“So,” the older man, probably the husband/father Marinette’s inner detective supplied, started then seemed to pause unsure of how to continue “Martha tells me she found you in the barn.”

Marinette remained silent in the hope that they drop the subject and she could slip away and figure out how to get home from there. Could she even call the manor home anymore?

Marinette had completely zoned out of the conversation while the panic in her head built.

What if I can never go back.

What if father hates me? What if Dick never wants to talk to me again? What Damian starts attacking Tim again?

“Marinette!”

Marinette snapped out of her spiralling and was struck with a thought. She cautiously raised her head to the boy of her right. “How did you know my name?”

The boy looked confused for a moment, a glace at his parents said they were curious as to how he’d come across the information before them. After a moment the boy simply responded, “It’s stitched into your bag.”

His calm response cause Marinette to grab at her bag only to find her name stitched there clear as day. Sh*t. She must have grabbed the wrong bag. She’d just have to live with it now.

“Are you Ok?” the boy asked, concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Marinette supplied calmly. “I just got lost in thought.” The truth was always easier to keep track of but the whole story would raise eyebrows. Half truths it is. The Bat’s specialty.

The woman spoke up this time, “is there any one we can call for you Marinette. Surely your parents must be worried. Do you know their number?”

This family officially made no sense. First, they invite a stranger inside, then they feed said stranger now they appear to be showing genuine concern, for a complete stranger who broke into there barn. Was Marinette certain she wasn’t dreaming.

Right she still needed to answer. “Thanks for the offer but that’s not necessary.”

Marinette got up having finished her pancakes sometime during this weird morning.  Alfred would shoot her if he knew she’d been cordial with people who shown her such kindness, no matter how unfathomable. “Thank you for breakfast, but I better get going.”

The father made the move this time “Hang on a minute there Marinette.” His voice commanding but gentle. “Do you have somewhere you’re planning on going? A relative you could stay with?”

This family’s concern was going to be the death of her. “I’m fine really.” She supplied as she grabbed her bag “I just really needed to clear my head last night, I’m probably just gonna wander around till I’m ready to head home.”

The husband gave his wife a look and Marinette knew there was no way she was leaving. That was the same look Dick got when he went into mother hen mode. She was a bout to be wrapped up in bubble wrap and cotton wool, until they were sure she was safe. Whether literally, like when she got home from school the day Marinette’s class had been interrupted by a villain attack, or figuratively like whenever Dick felt like it.

Nope Marinette had no hope of leaving unless she super sped out of here right now and with 3 people watching her every move that ain’t about to happen any time soon.

* * *

All Clark could say about this morning was that is was weird well and truly weird. He’d never seen someone so jumpy. He’d seen her name on her bag and said just as much at the table, yet Marinette seemed as though she hadn’t realised the name was there. Had she forgotten, it looked like a school bag so unless she had a dozen or something Clark couldn’t see how that was possible, to forget what something you used every day looked like.

Clark wondered some more as he walked along side Marinette on their way into town. Marinette had said she had nothing in mind for the day, so Ma had figured Clark could hang out with her thinking she might be more comfortable opening up to someone her own age. Beside due to Clarks abilities he didn’t have the chance to make friends often.

That was how the two ended up doing a quick walk about town. To Clark everything looked normal, Marinette seemed to disagree. She eyes were wondering everywhere taking in every little detail, she kept looking up as if expecting for the buildings to be taller. ‘She must not be from around here’ he thought, ‘Maybe she’s a city girl.’. Clark really hoped he was wrong on that last one, the closest city was Metropolis and that was at least 2 hours by car on a good day. He’d hate to think of how long someone who have to walk. ‘Especially if they didn’t have my speed.’ He thought ruefully.

Chapter Text

‘This is too good to be true’ thought Marinette as walked around town with the boy who’d found her this morning, or as she’d heard his mum call him Clark. This entire town was really tripping Marinette out, it was all so bright and sunny, and everyone was smiling but in a good way and not the Joker hit me with laughing gas kind of way.

It was honestly kinda refreshing. Marinette still watched every alley and shadow for signs of trouble, but she also took the chance to take in the beauty of the little town. It was so different to Gotham; it lacked the majestic flare but made up for it in quaint and simplistic detailing. The designer was inspired, unfortunately she’d left her design book back at the manor. While she might want to get her ideas down before she forgot them, she didn’t think she was ready to face her father just yet.

“So, what do you think of Smallville?” Clark asked out of the blue, obviously trying to start a conversation. Marinette was desperate enough to get her mind off home to go along with whatever he wanted to talk about. Plus, Marinette could file away any other information he let slip, She might not know where Smallville was but at least now she knew what name she should look up when she got the chance.

“What makes you think I haven’t been here before,” she replied, if she was gonna be stuck here she should at least figure out the intelligence of the people around here. Clark might not be Tim but understanding his thought process would be interesting.

“Because you look like a kid on Christmas trying to take everything in at once, plus you keep looking up like your expecting to see a skyscraper. We don’t have those round here.” Well colour Marinette impressed. This guy would make a good detective or maybe a reporter, but in Marinette experience reporters also had to get up in people’s business and Marinette couldn’t see Clark doing anything to make anyone uncomfortable.

“Ok, you got me. You always lived here then Mr. Smarty-pants.”

Clark took a moment, he seemed unsure how to respond. ‘Huh,’ Marinette thought, she hadn’t seen any other kids on the farm maybe he wasn’t used to the type of banter she shared so easily with Dick and Tim.

“Yeah, since I was three.” That was intriguing.

“What happened when you were three?” Marinette asked generally curious, most people in Gotham never shared personal details like this, even Tim took ages to open up and still struggled with it. Everyone here just seemed so trusting and easy going, it was strange.

“I was adopted, Ma and Pa brought me to the farm, and I’ve been there ever since.”

Marinette was somewhat stunned she didn’t actually expect to have anything in common with the country boy. She expected the similarities to kinda stop at black hair and blue eyes.

“How ‘bout you if you’re not from around here where’d you grow up.” Ah now that made more sense. Classic information gathering offer up a little of your self feel more relatable then slam home the million-dollar question. There was no way Marinette was gonna fall for that trick.

That and there was no way she could explain running from Gotham to wherever Smallville was over night. While Clark’s first thought probably wouldn’t be superspeed she didn’t want to risk it.

“Similar story actually, When I was about three, I was adopted by my dad I’ve lived with him since.” Not a lie she just failed to mention the fact that her Dad was Bruce Wayne nor that she was from Gotham. Understanding the need to lie didn’t mean having to like it. Half truths always worked better for her anyways. It does not like he’d notice or anything

Clark stopped and let out a breathy laugh.

“You got to teach me how you can make it feel like you’re sharing so much but actually giving me nothing to work with.”

Marinette froze. How did that happen? This guy was 10 maybe 11 MAX and he’d grown up in the middle of nowhere and he’d somehow seen right though a girl raised by the world’s greatest detective.

Clark continued on “seriously, I could annoy Pete for days if I could do that.’

“Pete?” Marinette asked, panicked brain begging for a change of topic. ‘Segway to a new topic by making him correct you’ her brain screamed. “that your brother’s name or something?”

“Or something,” Clack half laughed “he might as well be with how long we’ve been friends though.”

‘Crisis averted. For now.’ a traitorous part of her mind supplied.

The two walked around until about midday when they turned back for lunch. On the way back they went past a sign proudly proclaiming, “welcome to Smallville Kansas”. Marinette just had to stop and stare, she missed the sign on their way into town seeing as they’d taken a different route. The clarification that they were in Kansas was completely lost on her, she instead focussed of the text beneath.

“The meteor capital of the world”

Marinette may not have been obsessive about her origins like her father had once been, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested. Meteor - a small body of matter from outer space that enters the earth's atmosphere, becoming incandescent as a result of friction and appearing as a streak of light. Marinette had memorised the definition years ago.

“What’s with the sign?” trying to sound casual and failing.

Clark too a moment to look up before he answered.  “It’s because of the meteor shower,” he explained, “’bout 7 years ago they started coming down, Ma and Pa say it only lasted a little while, but it caught the town completely unprepared. They’re not sure how many meteors there were but almost all of them landed in Smallville.”

Marinette stopped listening after ‘7 years ago’ that was when she crashed to earth. Father had said there was a meteor shower, but he also said that her pod/ship was the only thing to land in Gotham. She’d never thought to ask where anything else landed.

Marinette might have a reason to stick around Smallville after all.

* * *

Marinette was given a simple sandwich for lunch while Martha and Johnathan Kent pulled Clark aside to talk.

“So how was your walk around town? was Marinette still jumpy?”

If there was any doubt in Clarks mind that his mum had all but officially adopted Marinette. There wasn’t anymore. “She seemed fine, a little guarded but fine.”

“Guarded how son?” his dad asks while cleaning his hand on a towel.

“She just tensed up a little whenever the conversation was about her homelife. She lives somewhere with a adopted father and that’s all I got” Clark saw his parent tense at that.

Ma was the first to speak up “Maybe we should call the police Johnathan, if that girl’s being hurt, we need to do something.”

“Now Martha we don’t know anything for sure.” Clark watch as his father, calm down his Ma and then turn to face him, “Clark I know you want to help, but if your mother is right, then the girl’s been through enough. I want you to spend the afternoon doing your chores, if Marinette wants to come with you, she can, if not your mother and I will keep an eye on her. We’ll give the girl some space and see what happens ok.”

* * *

None of the Kents were aware that Marinette was listening from the other room. It’s not like she had super hearing or anything but being that bat’s daughter meant you pick things up. Even if Marinette herself had minimal interest in vigilantism, she been immersed in that world for years. Profiling, lock picking and eavesdropping, they were essential tricks of the trade and second nature at this point.

While Marinette was surprised that their gut reaction was to assume abuse, after some contemplation she could see why it’d make sense. Honestly, she’d count Damian as an abusive, but she was sure the Kent’s thought it was her father not her brother she’d yet to mention.

Brother. Ha. Marinette could barely see herself applying the term to the brat. Marinette was all for second chances, but she also believed that someone had to want to change. Damian clearly had no intention of changing.

Marinette also considered for a moment the options they intended to provide her with for the afternoon. Go with Clark, Martha or John. There was always option 3 which was to run while they weren’t looking. Marinette felt her gut twist just thinking about it, she might not have known them long but the Kents had truly done her a favour. Marinette would have to find some way to get home, but she wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Alfred had taught her better manners then that.

Thinking a moment back to her options for the afternoon, she wanted to stay with Clark. Marinette wasn’t entirely sure why, but Clark felt familiar, dare she say safe. She dismissed it before as familiarity again the black hair and blue eyes they shared but a nagging said it was more than that. He kidda reminded her of Dick but not really, while the two shared her brother’s sunshine personality her brother had more of a runner’s build then Clark. Tim lacked Clark’s sunny disposition and permanent smile. Father was just too closed off. Clark remined her of someone she just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Hey Marinette!’ Marinette was pulled out of her thoughts by Clark. ‘It’s like Beetlejuice; I’d thought his name to many times and summoned him.’ She joked to herself. Clark continues unaware of her inner laughter, “Ma and Pa want me to get started on my chores, they wanted to know if you’d rather come with me to feed the cattle or stay with Ma while she does the washing up. Pa got some business to town.”

Marinette already knowing which she’d prefer asked “I’d like to stay with you please. So, what does feed cattle entail?”

“First off your gonna want a pair of gum boots.”

The smile on Clark’s face told her she be in for a very long and enthusiastic one-sided discussion.

* * *

It was well into the afternoon when Marinette and Clark had finished his chores. Clark had to admit it was more fun with someone else even if it meant taking ten times as long because he couldn’t use his powers. The pair of them had fed the cattle then proceeded to clean up the barn.

When the barn was cleaned the two sat down on the fencing near the port and Marinette surprised Clark by starting the conversation, not unlike he’d done all day. “I don’t know how you can do that every day; I’d be dead on my feet after a few days.”

Clark just chuckled, he’d never really thought about how hard farm work must be without powers, maybe he didn’t give his parents as much credit as they deserved. After all, they often did just as much if not more than him every day without fail. In a way Clark figure that made then even more super then him.

“You get used to it I guess,” he replied hiding a laugh at the irony of it all. “You get less clumsy over time too.” He added as more of an afterthought, and a subtle dig.

Marinette gave a full belly laugh, “Ha, you mean like when you tripped on a bucket this morning?”

This time Clark was prepared “Or when you slipped on a cow pat.” He retorts found Marinette blushing red as a tomato. “I told you you’d need those gum boot.” Reminding Marinette of her near insistence that she needn’t wear them because it killed her ‘inner-fashion designer’, Clark had thought it was hilarious but mostly it solidified to him that Marinette was most definitely as city kid. In the country, purpose overruled appearance almost every time.

Marinette punched him in the arm, he wasn’t sure how hard, invulnerability does that to you, “Ok you were right. So, do you guys have to do that every day?”

“Yeah sometimes you mix it up but for the most part you work the land, care for the livestock and fix anything that broke and that just about sums it up.”

Marinette sat there for a moment contemplating “Do you plan on taking over the farm when you get older?” she asked hesitantly.

“I’m not sure,” Clark replied honestly, “I guess I could do something else but I’m not sure what. How about you? You got anything planned for when your older?”

Marinette sat there contemplating for a minute, she looked like she was debating whether or not she should tell him. Clark was about to give up and go inside when - “Fashion,” she answered. “I’m really into fashion, I like to design a lot and I make a few of them.”

Clark turned around honestly intrigued “So you know how to sew and stuff.”

“Yeah, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“actually, I do, not that good, but decent enough to patch up a shirt. Sowings a staple skill round here. No point buying new clothes when you can just fix the old ones.”

“Can you crochet and knit too?” Marinette joked.

Clark going along with the joke “Not for the life of me” admits Clark before they both burst into laughter.

Clark looked over at Marinette, she was more relived then she had been all day. Clark had the feeling they would get along just fine.

Chapter Text

Dinner had been interesting for the Kents that night. After all Marinette was still unofficially staying with them. The two children were deep in an animated conversation on a topic John and Martha had long since lost track of. Martha wounder not for the first time if they’d made a mistake not adopting after Clark, depriving him of this deep connection shared by brothers and sisters. Martha could see the simple joy Marinette was giving Clark, simply by talking.

Martha gazed longingly at the small girl. Dismissing unwelcome thoughts from her head. They’d been luck Clark there was no way they’d get lucky again. No matter how similar the scenarios. Martha Kent just wanted to wrap both her children up in a blanket and never let go.

Martha hated that she was going to have to ruin what had been such a pleasant evening to all but interrogate Marinette about her situation. She just hoped Marinette would be ok at the end of this ordeal.

Martha watched Marinette as she calmly dried the dishes as Martha washed. ‘How does one even start a conversation like this.’

“Your staring,” Marinette stated so bluntly it bordered curt. ‘Apparently like that’

“Sorry, I just can’t stop thinking about your family.” Martha replied honestly, grateful that the girl was being held captive by her task. “Surely they miss you?” ‘Please let them miss her’

Marinette stiffened just continuing to stare at the plate she had already finished drying.

“Marinette”, Martha spoke softly, placing the dish down and gently placing Marinette’s hand in her own. Removing the dish from her hands. She placed her other hand on the girls check, bring Marinette’s face to face with her. Martha’s heart nearly broke. Tear were beginning to well in the little girls’ eyes.

“Marinette do you feel safe here?” Marinette nodded.

“Can you trust that we only want to help you?” another nod.

“Can you tell me what happened Marinette?” nothing. Martha tried again “Marinette if someone hurt you, you need to tell somebody.” Still nothing.

“Marinette, I promise the Police can keep you safe for your father, if you just tell them what’s wrong”

“My dad’s not the problem.” Marinette mumbled.

“Marinette” ‘Please let me help you’ she wanted to cry. The moment of silence that passed felt like an eternity.

“I said my Dad’s not the problem” Marinette spoke, softly but audible.

‘is that a good or a bad thing?’

“It’s Damian.” Marinette spoke somewhat surer of herself.

“Marinette. Who’s Damian?”

* * *

She didn’t need to tell Martha everything, but it felt right. Explaining how her adoptive father’s biological son showed up and tried to hurt her and the next youngest brother. How her father asked her to set a good example for her ‘brother’. How she’d lashed out at Damian and been sent to her room. Finally, she explained how she’d grabbed whatever she thought she needed shoved it in a bag and ran.

There was a comfort to Mrs Kent’s arms. ‘I feel safe’ she realised. Marinette hadn’t been hugged much these days. Dick lived a city away, and even if Marinette could be there in a flash, he had work. Tim wasn’t used to much physical affection, hugs did more to set him on edge than confront. Father was the last person you went to for comfort.

Marinette wasn’t quite sure when the two of them had slid to the floor, but there they were. Marinette no longer bothering to hold back her tears and Martha gently comforting the tiny girl.

Marinette felt as if great weight had been lifted.

While Marinette knew she was loved by her Father he rarely showed it like this. Most definitely not with an action of comfort so definitive in purpose.

Unlike her brothers Marinette knew nothing of her mother, nor had she ever had anyone attempt to fill the position for her before. It felt nice.

With a final push of strength Marinette half sobbed, “What do I do now?”

* * *

While Johnathan Kent had known what his wife intended to do, he hadn’t expected to walk in on the pair as they were.  Marinette sleeping in Martha’s arms, dried tears still streaking her face. His wife’s own face telling him there was no way Marinette was leaving anytime soon.

Knowing this he helped Martha lift the exhausted girl’s sleeping frame and carried her to the spare bed he and Clark prepared.

“Looks like we got some work to do.”

Extra (non-cannon)

Bruce: You can't adopt her, I adopted her 7 yrs ago

Martha: I reject your reality and substitute my own

Alfred: perhaps we can arrange a joint custody agreement

Bruce: thank you Alfred (thinks'at least someone is on my side')

Alfred: Hush now Master Bruce it is rude to speak over the adults 

Alfred: (turns to Martha) now about that joint custody, perhaps you and your husband an take her on weekday and I can have weekends

Bruce: (watches as Martha and Alfred walk off) What just happened?

Chapter Text

It was rare that Batman didn’t have a solution to a problem. Bruce Wayne different story, he rarely knew what to do in any situation involving his children when they weren’t robin.

Yeah Bruce way pretty sure even considering training your kids to be vigilantes permanently disqualified him from any parent of the year awards.

But this. This took the cake as possibly the single, biggest mistake he’d made to date. He’d driven his own daughter to run away.

How did he mess up so bad? A question he’d asked a billion times, and still had no answer for.

It had taken Bruce 3 minutes to get Damian off of the ceiling, and a further 10 to placate the boy enough to send him to bed, with the promise they’d deal with it in the morning when they were rested. 13 minutes. 13 precious minutes in which his only daughter had methodically grabbed her things and ran.

That was an even scarier thought, methodical. Bruce knew from previous experience with Mad-Rush-Marinette that when going at that speed she would rely more on instinct then thought. Marinette had purposefully grabbed only what she needed, she’d even left her precious sketch book behind, and not taken anything that could be used to find her save her credit card. How long had she thought this though, the manor’s cameras showed her moving at superspeed around her room and the pantry, never slowing down.

How long had this been happening?

How long had his little girl been planning on running away?

How badly he had failed for her to do so.

Which is what had led him here. In the Batcave reviewing the footage of his own home scoring for any clues to his daughter’s where abouts in the days leading up to that night. Rather than hints and leads Bruce was confronted with just how much he’d missed till it was obvious where he failed. The small jabs between Marinette and Damian at first appeared sibling like, as they had when they occurred. The footage renewed that train of thought as Bruce watch is daughter’s patience slowly be worn down.

Bruce’s attention had been divided on so much lately. As Bruce Wayne the company had been keeping him occupied, trying to fabricate a story to introduce Damian to the public, training Tim to work alongside him had all taken up so much of his time.

Don’t even get him started of his time as Batman. A new player had entered then scene about three years ago and he still had yet to have a name or face for the man. Now this mysterious man had managed a near monopoly on Gotham’s drug rings. To do a complete 180 it was around that time drug deals in and around Gotham’s few primary schools completely halted. A man who had risen to power on the blood of his victims drew the line at selling drugs to children. Bruce as a parent of a primary school was somewhat relieved while Batman was working overtime as he had another murderer to catch.

Bruce was not exaggerating in saying he had not been all there these last few weeks. But he’d never imagined this.

Bruce nearly had a heart attack when he saw Damian thrusting a dagger straight at Marinette’s heart, at that time oblivious of the girl’s invulnerability.

He a Damian seriously needed to talk.

* * *

Damian had been thoroughly annoyed upon his father’s revision of the last few weeks seeing as it had landed him confined to his room. With no weapons. How was that fair. It was hardly his fault that the little mutant had run. It benefited him though, now there was one less obstacle between him and his goal.

However, surpassing that hurdle may not have been worth the now constant supervision he was receiving from either Grayson, Pennyworth if not both when ever he left his room.

He also found himself board, it was not a feeling he’d even grown accustom to. Every day with the league had been filled with training and preparation. Currently his days were filled with blank walls and the disapproving looks from whom ever was watching him.

If Damian had actually cared what his father’s brood thought of him, this punishment might carry weight.

“Damian, Master Bruce has asked to see you,” Pennyworth stood in the doorway.

What could his father possibly want now?

* * *

Dick hadn’t seen Bruce this upset in a while. Probably not since Jason died now that he thought about it.

Dick couldn’t blame him though. It didn’t matter how many superpowers she had or how many times they told themselves she’d be alright, They still worried. Marinette was 10. 10-year-old were not supposed to run scared from their home. Yet in Gotham it happened all the time. Richard just never thought it’d happen here.

Had he been that bad of a brother?

Had he been that reproachable?

The security footage had made it clear this had been happening since Damian arrived and yet even after comparing notes none of the self-proclaimed detectives had noticed a thing. It took them going over the past fortnight’s worth of footage for them to understand just their little sunshine had been subjected to.

Tim and Dick had been following up every lead they could but thus far not a single traffic camera had caught Marinette leaving Gotham, nor Budhaven. Marinette didn’t have any friends outside of Gotham like him and Tim so that didn’t help much.

Bruce didn’t think they knew about the subdermal trackers he’d injected into each of them, usually it’d be his first port of call in a kidnap scenario. This time however their little sister’s invulnerability was not in there favour.

As the first Robin Dick had written the book on escaping the manor when you were in a fowl mood. Getting out wasn’t the hard part. It was getting back in, and for someone like Marinette would never been one to break the rules much to begin with, it was going to kill her trying to find a way back home.

“If she even considers the manor home anymore.”

‘Oh cupcake. Where are you?’

Chapter Text

Martha Kent’s Mum-sense was tingling the morning after Marinette’s breakdown. There was no way she was handing over Marinette without at least meeting the man who thinks it’s ok for children to attack each other with knives.

Yeah Martha was defiantly going to have a long chat to that man when she found him.

 ‘Tracker stationary.’

Martha buried her further into her thoughts as she made a simple breakfast for her family. That she at least knew how to deal with.

 ‘infrared shows 3 bodies, adult male is in barn, exercise caution.’

Martha smiled warmly as she watched her beloved son walked down the stairs. “Mornin’ Mom.”

“Morning Clark.” She kissed him on the forehead, enjoying the simple act. ‘is Marinette awake yet”

“Nah she’s still asleep.”

‘Target is priority, failure is NOT an option.’

Not surprising if yesterday was any indication of the girl’s sleeping habits. Martha honesty wouldn’t be surprised if that was her father’s doing as well.

Maybe he was a night owl.

‘Blood kept to a minimum. No body count if possible’

That or Marinette just really wasn’t a morning person. ‘Or not’ Martha thought as she watched the girls also descended the stairs mid yawn. She opened the curtains in the hope the flood of light would help the girl wake.

‘Visual confirmation, target is present.’

Instead Marinette flinched like a vampire ducking from the onslaught of light. Followed by and onslaught of laughter and her patented glare. Martha was pretty sure Marinette could give that vigilante form Gotham a run for his money with that glare.

“How did you sleep Marinette?” Martha asked as she reached for a large bread knife. Scrabbled eggs on toast coming right up.

“Not bad, thank you Mrs Kent for letting me stay the night again.”

 ‘Target acquired.’

“None of this Mrs Kent nonsense Marinette you can call me Martha.” Turning away from the uncut loaf to face Marinette.

Clark similarly hugged Marinette from behind in a show of support.

‘situation has escalated MOVE NOW!’

Things were going to get better.

Marinette could feel it as she shifted carefully into superspeed. Watching one perfect moment stretch into a thousand.

A moment that proceeded to shatter into a thousand pieces. Like the thousand pieces of shattered glass headed straight for her and Clark.

Marinette acted on instinct shoving him down, perhaps a little too hard, and covering his body with her own.

She felt the shards penetrate her shirt only to shatter even further upon contact with her steely skin.

Marinette, certain they where safe from the threat of glass, turned to face the more pressing threat of whatever of whomever broke that window.

Superspeed again slowed everything down, she took in every detail, her emotions loose across the spectrum refusing to settle on just one.

The relief, Clark was safe.

The sadness, he was scared, terrified even.

The anger, the small glass shards embedded Martha’s arm, how dare they do this to such a kind woman.

The fear, the intruder possibly just saw the glass break on contact with her back, she might never go home now.

Then the determination, she was going to get home to her family, no psychopath was going take her family away from her again.

Finally, her emotions settled, as she turned to face the attacker, she channels the righteous fury worthy of the bat, ready to fight whatever demon stood before her.

Before she just stopped.

WhAt ThE #@$% iS hApPeNiNg HeRe.

* * *

Clark had never been more terrified in his life. He’d never had a random stranger barging into his home before either. ‘They’ve found me’, was his first thought. He felt himself shift into superspeed. The panic getting the better of him. ‘What if they take me away? What if they hurt me? What if they hurt my parents?’ Clarks spiralling thoughts broken only when he was shoved down and covered by Marinette. ‘Even at superspeed she reacted faster then I did’, he thought just before he hit the floor, snapping him back into a normal speed.

Clark turns around as fast as he can without superspeed, it was hard to do on demand and even harder when he was stressed out.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see but it wasn’t this.

A man in a biker jacket and a . . . was that a domino mask. Ok? Offically questioning this man’s fashion sense, just not aloud. The guy had a gun at his side. Clark knew he didn’t get hurt much, read ever, but that didn’t mean that right now was the time to test his limits. That was a gun for crying out loud. While there was a slim chance, he might, MIGHT, be bullet proof, Ma and Marinette had just about a 0% chance of suddenly being bullet proof.

‘Marinette!’ Clark cursed himself for forgetting that Marinette had already put herself between him and the danger.

She just stood there motionless; he couldn’t see her face, who knew how absolutely terrified she must be. Clark saw the man’s steely stare shift from him to Marinette.

He was here for her?

Clark knew Marinette had run away and honestly Clark could very much understand the urge to run away from a guy like this. He was huge. There was just one nagging thought in the back of his head ‘Why isn’t he attacking? Why isn’t she moving?’ not that he was complaining, the lack of gunfire was a very good thing. He was just confused.

The guy had literally barrelled through the window and was now standing as motionless as the girl he was staring at. What is sense. Not this that’s for sure.

Could this day get any more confusing?

Marinette mouthed something to the stranger. Clark couldn’t decide is she was scared or crying. But whatever she said he hesitantly nodded back at her.

If Clark didn’t know better, he’d say Marinette had run at superspeed, because Clark could swear, he blinked, and she was hugging the stranger. The tiny wisp of a girl Marinette hugging the massive gun wielding stranger.

Clack had many questions but one stood out what’s a ‘Jay-Jay’.

Chapter Text

Okay, so there were many ways Jason pictured this day going. Sitting down with Johnathan, Martha and Clark Kent and his little sister. Yeah no. Alfred would probably scream blue murder if they ever tried to have a family meal on the couch like this back at the manor.

You’d like an explanation.

Yeah, you’d probably need that to understand what was happening here. Well is all started a long time ago.

3 days Prior.

If Jason had to describe his world in three words, he’d have the pick. F***. The. Batman. Words to live by in his book. Words he practically did live by.

Honestly less than a few months in Gotham and he had just about the entire drug empire under his thumb. Honestly, was that so hard Bruce. A few months to accomplish what the Batman had tried and failed to do for years. Years.

That thought alone could keeping him running all night.

Yeah that was before Jason’s blood froze solid. He would have broken his phone had it not been the lifeline he’d so desperately needed.

Marinette was in trouble. Jason had a tracker in her favourite school bag – yes, he kept track of his little sister, stop judging – a tracker that showed pixie-pop was in Kansas, Smallville and that she had been for the last 12 hours. What the F*** was his little sister doing in the middle of nowhere on her own.

Ok Jason might also have hacked into the Batcave, Dick seriously needed to change his password, ‘I’m Batman’ was just too easy, but that does NOT mean he cared about whatever hole Bruce had dug himself into. Also had Bruce gotten ANOTHER ONE. Seriously where was Bruce getting these replacements from.

Had he really meant that little to his former mentor. No! he couldn’t afford to think like that right now. Not while Marinette was potentially in danger.

Whatever happened that night, Marinette must have been pissed. Jason couldn’t think of any other reason for Marinette to hang someone by their cape to the ceiling of the Batcave. Under other circumstances he might laugh at the attic.

Right now, he had to concentrate on finding Marinette and making sure she was okay. The Marinette he knew would have run to Dick in Budhaven or if she was really desperate perhaps to Roy and Oliver in Star city. The chances she’d leave the city by her own choice. The number of kids who get picked up on the streets of Gotham is no joke. Maybe Red Hood should take out the human traffickers when he finished with the drug trade.

Bruce was going to have to have a bloody good answer for this one. Being a bumbling idiot with emotions was not going to be good enough here.

The Red Hood didn’t bother leaving someone in charge. Gotham could handle itself for the few days it would take him to find Marinette and kick her kidnapper’s ass. If it couldn’t then he’d simply take back the city as he had the first time.

So that was how Jason found himself outside of a quaint farmhouse looking through an infrared scope.

He looked down at his phone. The tracking app had not been closed since he receive that first alert.

‘Tracker stationary.’ He thought to himself. ‘good, that meant that she was here.’

‘infrared shows 3 bodies, adult male is in barn, exercise caution.’ Jason had slipped back into old training far too easily for his liking. Continuing along the same vain he reminded himself how this would be so very different from his last few months ‘Target is priority, failure is NOT an option and blood kept to a minimum. No body count if possible.’ Marinette would not see him like that. He had not spent that past year avoiding Marinette to show up and kill someone in fount of her. She didn’t know he was even alive, let alone a murder. Best start with the first and build his way up to the second.

He reached up to check that the familiar domino mask was in place. Marinette would appreciate the familiar face, as if a domino would ever fool her.

Jason was snapped out of his thoughts when seeing a woman – pretty average, didn’t seem threatening but looks could always be deceiving – open the curtains. Jason looked in to see his little sister sit down wreck as if she hadn’t slept for days*. ‘Visual confirmation, target is present.”

He switched back to the scope in the hopes he could gleam more information from the situation. It took less then a second to find Marinette amongst the figures ‘Target acquired.’

He also most missed the blade in the ‘innocent’ woman’s hand. Key word almost. He definitely didn’t miss the short guy holding his little sister down, as the knife was turned towards her. “Sh*t!”

‘situation has escalated MOVE NOW!’

And so, he had. He had literally thrown himself through the window, in the hopes of distracting the kidnappers, only to find Marinette turn around and protect the short stack who was holding her down. It took Jason a second to get a good look at the tiny kidnapper. He was a kid. A kid no older then Marinette.

Hindsight was a beautiful thing that allowed Jason to see all the sign he missed and all the ways he’d f*cked up in the past few hours alone.

After a too-short embrace with his sister. Marinette went from being a small, comfortable warmth in his arms almost snuggling into him to a complete 180 of punching him - more like poking with the district lack of super strength – and berating him for crashing into a stranger’s house with no warning looking ready to shoot the place up and anything else she felt was his fault in that moment. To be fair almost everything she said had been his fault, but Jason could see what she was really upset about. Whether she didn’t mention his death out of respect for the civilians in the room and secrete identities, or because him being alive was a hurdle she just wouldn’t tackle right now, Jason didn’t know.

He was just thankful to have his Pixie-pop back in his arms again.

Apologising had been far more difficult then he first thought. Why? Because as soon as Marinette vouched for him explaining that Jason was her brother and he’d never hurt anyone – not was not the time to debate that – they seem all to eager to forgive him. Repair a window. That was all he had to do to apologies. WHAT THE F*** IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE. Jason was so confused.

I mean Jason also offered to help remove the glass from the mother’s arm. Yeah, he’d felt like shit for that. After a long morning of awkwardness on Jason’s part, and what Jason would describe as relief for the Kents. Marinette had taken Marinette aside and told Jason the whole story including the shortened version she’d given to the Kents.

This had resulted in Jason saying he was going to kill Damian, as he learned the newest Robin’s name to be, which had resulted in Marinette scolding him, saying it was his attack on Tim that had driven her over the edge. From there the conversation hit a downward spiral as Jason responded with the points that it didn’t matter that Damian hadn’t actually killed her, trying was just as bad and also he didn’t care what the demon’s spawn did to the ‘replacement’ so long as she was Ok. Which of course had resulted in Marinette defending Tim. And yelling at her once favourite brother.

In summary both siblings got a lot of feelings of their chests and secretes, Jason’s latest hobbies included, and they were both very thankful that the Kent’s went to go work the farm and had left the two alone to talk. Civilians defiantly did not belong anywhere in that conversation.

The day had ended with another apology from Jason and an offer to help in the kitchen.

Seeing as they couldn’t be entirely sure that there were no glass fragments left and neither party wished to allow the youngest to have to fake cut themselves upon discovering residual fragments, the group ate on the couch.

Jason couldn’t help but feeling as though there was something familiar about the setting. That warm fuzzy feeling he hadn’t felt for so long. That feeling of belonging.

Wait a minute?

How did Jason Todd manage to get adopted again?

Chapter Text

Marinette had to admit. This had been a weird few days, since Jason had joined the gang. The Kents, after the initial awkward first day, had opened up so quickly it was disturbing.

After the family had sat down and really talked about everything that night on the couch. Jason was now seen as the dashing big brother who come into rescue his little sister after believing she’d been kidnapped. Jason, supposedly, hadn’t know about the fight back home because he’d moved out some time prior. There were a few questions the pair of Waynes had barely found a way out of, but one didn’t come to live in the same house as Batman for several years by being a terrible liar or slow on the uptake.

So yeah. A day spent fixing broken windows. Then another two helping tend to the fields, since ‘No Martha I put that glass in your arm, I’ll do the chores’.

Yeah. There was no hope. Jason was now the golden boy. At least in the eyes of the Kents.

A very stark contrast to his life back in Gotham. That lifestyle had been a very long conversation. A conversation had tending fields, far away from any and all weapons, especially guns, Marinette had confiscated ALL the guns. Suffice it to say expletives were exchanged. And insults. And a few punches.

By the end of Jason’s second night most hostilities had ceased. Sibling love is mysterious. Many only children have attempted to understand this archaic principle. Those who watch on from the sideline envying the constant companionship and trust brothers and sisters instil in each other, will never be able to truly understand the sheer incomprehensible, murderous intent that it comes with. Needless to say, trying to explain the thought process of such a complex exchange as the one between Jason and Marinette is a pointless endeavour.

Saying goodbye to the Kents had been quite the tearjerker. Postcodes, phone numbers and promises were exchanged. Marinette also promised to send a few extra stamps for Clarks responses, Clark protested until Jason interjected saying it would be their father footing the bill and Martha encouraged the act of generosity. Jason made some throw away comment, as Marinette and Clark hugged goodbye "Honestly if not for the pigtails I wouldn't be sure which one of you I'd be taking home. You two could be twins."

The trip home was a long and tiring. With many, many, many rants directed at both Bruce and Damian. In the end a level of understanding was reached of both members of the family.

Marinette managed to play the devil’s advocate for Bruce and vouch for the man’s morning, even if it was in his own I-really-upset-but-I’m-not-going-to-act-like-it-even-effects-me-because-I-have-to-be-the-epitone-of-emotionless-statue.

Jason played for Damian vouching that Marinette was not ready to know just what went on in that hell hole, but chances are it left the ‘blood son’ massively f*cked in the head. Making him possible more emotionally stunted the Bruce ever was. Marinette honestly struggled to see how that was possible, but Jay-Jay wouldn’t lie about that to her.

Marinette had always been rather perceptive. She could see that Jason. This Jason. The one sitting in front of her right now was not the Jason she knew. Sure there were traces of the old Jason, a glint of mischievousness in his eye of the sound of his laugh – she’d regaled him of the legendary prank war against poor Tim -  but the darkness in his eyes, dare she say his soul, the anger that flared up at any mention of their father.

No Jason had changed these past few years, but he was still her brother. Nothing would, nothing could ever change that. She’d just have to learn to be a bit more careful around her brother with his newfound temper. She should probably hide all the guns when she got home too. Just to be safe.

* * *

The drive into Gotham was a silent, efficient as a familiar distrust of their surrounding settled around them almost as if they’d never left.

Gotham truly hadn’t changed the days she’d been away. Had it truly only been a week ago she’d been dealing with Damian. It was crazy to think that it took only a few days, some fresh air, some new friends, to completely change her view of the situation.

Marinette hugged her brother, any tighter and she’d be using her super strength, things had been so simple on the farm. Jason was her brother again, she had a friend who wasn’t even aware of her status as Bruce Wayne’s daughter and for the first time she felt like a normal kid.

While none of that really depended of her being in Gotham it felt as though all that was slowly slipping away, the closer they got to the manor.

Yes, Marinette still had little to no love for her, begrudgingly acknowledged, new brother but she had gained a new perspective. For that reason – and quite possibly that reason alone – Marinette was willing to give Damian another shot.

Even if that shot was pinning him against the wall and yelling some sense at him until he finally listened. Now that she thought about it that was quite likely what she’d have to end up doing.

* * *

The Manor was quiet. It had been far too quiet the past few days. Alfred had always been one to rely on but even he way struggling to come to terms with the latest string of misfortune. Marinette, the sunlight of their lives, had run off. She’d run off without warning. What did that say about him?

The old butler had always seen the young girl as a granddaughter as much as he had view Master Bruce as his own son. To learn that Marinette had felt unable to confide in him. It hurt.

It wasn’t often Alfred stood still in Wayne Manor but just this once he felt he could indulge himself in this. To still idle by the window and look out into the cool night. The light breeze filtering through the trees. The sunset reflecting off of the smooth stones of the path. The Motorbike pulling up to the gate.

Wait! What?!

Alfred could count on two hands the number of times he was caught off guard. This was one of them. The old man was questioning his need for glasses when he saw a slim, female figure dismount from behind the driver.

Alfred found himself as a loss for the last time he’d run so fast. Yet Alfred suspected he could have been the Flash and he still not have been fast enough.

Those pigtails were unmistakeable.

Marinette must have heard him coming, Alfred would swear that girl had super hearing, because no sooner was Alfred at the large front doors then a blur of blue-tinged hair ran up the meet him.

There were no words.

They weren’t needed.

Chapter Text

Marinette was so thankful Alfred had been the one to meet her at the manor. Coming home to an angry Batman would not have ended well. Not well at all.

Alfred had ferried the young girl in her old room, it was getting dark and the young ward was clearly fatigued. He did mention that they would have to talk in the morning, but both were too tired to care at the moment

The manor felt colder somehow; Not physically the temperature never really bothered Marinette, they would long since dismissed it as yet another ability of her alien genes.

The walls felt cold, devoid of life. The mansion lacked the homey feeling Marinette had taken for granted at the Kents.

This would be a long night.

* * *

This had quite possibly been the longest week Tim had ever experienced. Tim had spent every waking moment, which was considerably longer than the average thanks his inhuman coffee intake, looking over every camera he could in the manor. There had to be some hint. Some clue. Something he was missing. Something that would lead him to Marinette.

The speed, he slowed the taps down so that Marinette appeared to move at a somewhat normal speed, at which Marinette had grabbed her belonging suggested planning and forethought but Marinette had no friends outside of Gotham. Bruce had never taken her to any of his safe houses, read safe penthouses. Her computer, yes, he hacked her computer – along with Bruce and Dick, he was not alone in this invasion of privacy dam it – she was his little sister and he’s worried. Anyway, her computer showed no research into any American cities.

There was a shockingly large amount of research on Paris, but that was just for about her fashion hobby. Right?

Dianna may have been called up in the middle of the night by a frantic Batman to check.

Was this case turning him into an insomniac? Maybe. Would it be worth it to see Marinette safe and sound back home? Most definitely.

Tim reached for his cup of unholy concoction nectar from the gods only to find the cup disappointingly empty. The coffee machine lived a few rooms away in the kitchen, Tim should ask Bruce if he was allowed to have a coffee machine in his room, it would be such a time saver. The question was, did he want to drag himself around the manor for a cup of coffee or pick up where he left off tomorrow?

There really was no contest. COFFEE!!!

Tim had long since memorised the long corridors of the manor, not an easy feat when lucid. Running into Alfred also fairly routine. Running in to Alfred while he led Marinette back to her room after she’d been missing for a week. Yeah, nothing unusual there.

Wait a second.

Tim looked up again to see a empty hallway.

Maybe he should go to bed. Hallucinating was only going to distract him. He’d find Marinette in the mourning.

* * *

To say that Alfred had mixed feelings would be the understatement of the century.

They, the Wayne household as a whole, were missing a crucial element here. It wasn’t like her, mostly from her experience pranking her brothers, she knew that her brother could take care of themselves. Something had set Marinette on edge before Damian went after Tim.

And when Alfred discovered what this was. Honestly, Alfred wasn’t sure what he’d do, but he would be sure that the punishment fit the crime. Whether that meant screaming till he was horse berating Marinette for over-reacting.

First thing in the morning. They were finally going to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

The morning had come far too quickly for Bruce’s liking. He could already feel the headache of the day setting in. One might think that a billionaire would not want for anything, but alas as any parent could tell you a quiet day simply can not be bought.

Between his Duties at Wayne industries and Batman he was tired enough. Then he also been christened father to, what was is Tim had taken to calling Damian. Demon spawn? Honestly though he loathed to admit it that was an apt description of Damian’s behaviour. They had yet to find a suitable punishment for Damian’s attack on Tim that night and his attempt on Marinette’s life.

Bruce had yet to show Tim or Dick the video of that particular incident, a riot was the last thing they needed.

Unfortunately, Damian still stood firmly in his belief that he should now process the Robin title. A title Tim still possessed. That was a bomb. It would go off soon rather then later. But for now, Damian was confined to his room under the guise that according to the public Damian still did not exist. The dreaded migraine set in just thinking about that particular media storm.

“Master Bruce, are you awake sir?” Thank all thing good for Alfred

“come in Alfred.” Was it just him or did Alfred sound more curt than usual? Was Alfred scowling.

‘I thought that was my thing’ instead Bruce chose to voice “Alfred?”

“Master Bruce I would like to enquire something of you.” Ok Alfred was angry, an emotion Bruce had seen very few times on Alfred, and he knew from experience that this was not going to end well for him.

“Of course,” ‘whelp better get this over with’

“Well, I was curious as to whether or not you were aware that that your youngest son apparently pulled a knife on your daughter.” Shit.

“Because if you were Master, I would say it’s a miracle Marinette decided to come back at all”

“wha -?”

“And another thing!” Alfred really wasn’t letting Bruce get a word in edgewise. “What is this poppycock I hear about you telling Marinette that she has to be a good example! Marinette, despite her physiology, is just as human as the rest of us! Furthermore, she is a child! A child who is too young and too kind to have IMPOSSIBLE STANDARD FORCED UPON HER!! AS YOUR DAUGHTER SHE WILL TRY HER BEST TO PLEASE YOU EVEN IF IT MEANS GOING AGAINST HER BETTER JUDGEMENT.”

The Batman had stared down Killer Croc, The Joker and every other horrifying-what kinda-sicko-wrote-this night Gotham had ever been able to dream up. But Nothing. Nothing could prepare him for an angry Alfred.

Thankfully, Alfred seemed to have gotten it all out of his system because the next words he spoke were calm, collected and even more terrifying.

“I informed Miss Marinette this morning that she would be responsible, if she so chose, to determine an appropriate punishment for Damian.” With that Alfred turned on his heals “I wish you luck Master Bruce”

Would it be too late to buy another bomb shelter?

Chapter Text

“Ok. First rule of Mao There will be no discussing of the rules of Mao”

Well sh*t.

10 minutes later ago (pretend it says ago)

Marinette stood in front of her brother; Damian processed the title much to the dismay of more than just Mari. She possessed a look in her eye that spelt disaster for the recipient.

A look Damian was not familiar with. The league didn’t give looks they gave orders.

Damian therefor was completely unaware of the absolute hell he was due to experience.

Damian had just received an ultimatum. He had two requirements he had to meet IF he wanted to don the title of Robin. He had to demonstrate that he would not kill either his opponents or his teammate by completing Robin training with Batman. A condition Damian had begrudgingly accepted under the pretence that familiarising himself with his family team colleagues would beneficial. However even if, there was some doubt around his ability to not maim an opponent, he completed the robin training he would not be allowed to don the title or join patrols until he completed a second task. One that was to be selected by Marinette.

You know the little angel Damian tried to stab. Yeah, Damian was somewhat hesitant at hearing that. His mind flew straight to his discovery of the girl’s apparent invulnerability, which would significantly complicate any trial by combat. The young assassin nearly fell over laughing - obviously, he didn’t, what kind of normal human being do you take him for, he’s the son of I’m-going-to-work-though-all-of-my-complex-but-not-really-complex-emotions-by-punching-people-Batman.

The girl had challenged him to game of cards. When he won; he could become Robin. Simple as that.

Damian looked over at Tim, smugly of course, who was staring at his sister like she was one of his coffee induced hallucinations. Tim simply couldn’t believe that his beloved sister could allow Robin to be taken away from him so easily. She had to know how much this meant to him, how hard he’d worked for this. Of course, that changed the minute Marinette declared the card game he was playing.

Tim’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning, whereas Damian furrowed his brows slightly, the only sign or confusion he would allow his otherwise emotionless face to show. What exactly was this Mao. Not that it really mattered of course, it was a card game, Damian would simple observe the rules and win. Or more accurately Damian planned to card count and win.

Now you might be thinking, Damian you idiotic child, Marinette is the embodiment of sunshine and should always be protected and loved less she turns evil and take over the world. You know what you’d be right.

Damian turned to face his father, confident in his plot. Bruce’s head was hung with a sigh, obviously he had seen the girl’s inadequate ability to assign a punishment and was now hiding his face in shame. Perhaps this pointless game would be avoided entirely, it was after all simple a waste of time.

“Ok. First rule of Mao There will be no discussing of the rules of Mao”

* * *

Marinette was going to savour every moment of this.

Damian had gone looking full of himself – it should be illegal to look that smug – to looking like he’d just been slapped in the face.

And que the tantrum.

“What kind of a card game doesn’t have rules!” this was not up for debate

“there is no game if there are no rules!” Simple logic really all toddlers thought tantrums

“you can’t win if there are no rules.”

‘Yes, Damian that is the biggest problem here. totally not you thinking it’s ok to StAb PeOpLe‘ Marinette had every intention of teaching her little brother a lesson he would never forget.

Never. Underestimate. A. Bat.

The day Marinette donned a mask would be the day Gotham’s criminals ran crying. Not for her power, useful as they were. But for and ability that was all Marinette.

“I never said there were no rule, only that you couldn’t discuss them.”

One sentence. Not fists. Not kicks. Not a single act of violence, and Marinette had done the seemingly impossible.

She silenced the Demon Spawn. Marinette resisted the urge to roll on the ground laughing as realisation dawned on his face. He had just voice his own inability to listen to instructions.

Good. This boy had many lessons to learn. The first, was to listen and not just listen but to watch and observe. That would take a while, Lord knows Bruce had terrible communication skills at the best of times.

Marinette had not chosen randomly. Tim would have to be roped into playing of course and maybe Dick, hopefully the forced interaction, and inevitable loosing, would cause Damian to see the two in a new light.

“Let the games begin.”

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Marinette directed the boys to the family room.

Alfred was already there and waiting with a new deck of cards.

Marinette it turns graciously accepted the box and handed it on to Damian. “So, you can’t claim I cheated.” Was her only explanation.

With one eye on her and one on the cards Damian opened the sealed packet. He found nothing amiss with any of the cards he viewed. Standard, hearts, clubs, and spades.

Satisfied he move to pass the deck back, Marinette simple raised a hand and told him to shuffle. The fool. Damian would master this game’s soon enough but to also allow him unfiltered access to the cards and there order. How easy did she intend to make this game.

Out of the corner of his eye, Damian watched Marinette grab a cushion, always keeping half a mind on the deck in his hands. She placed it on the floor and sat down with her elder brothers following suit. His almost, read totally didn’t because trained assassin, missed the look Grayson shot Marinette. It said, ‘are you sure you want to do this?’. Similarly, Marinette shot back one that said, ‘trust me.’

Clearly Grayson understood how foolish handing him the deck had been, whereas Marinette was clearly to confident to admit her error if she even realised it at all.

Damian still in control of the deck asked how many cards needed to be dealt. 7, but none to Marinette would be the dealer. ‘a poker variant perhaps ‘thought Damian, with Marinette as the dealer.

Damian diligently dealt the hands, a series of different low number cards for the wards on either side of him careful to ensure the cards needed for either pairs or straights were either in another’s hand or near the bottom of the deck. He dealt himself a pair of kings and jacks, and a queen along with some lower cards he’d needed to get away from his opponents.

Marinette calmly took the deck from Damian when he was done. She held the deck in her hands, but still within view. It would seem she had no intention of altering the deck. She smoothly placed the top card facing upwards, 4 of hearts, gesturing for Dick to begin. Dick place a 6 of hearts calmly on top, before turning to Damian. His turn. The only correlation between the cards had ben the suit. It was safe to assume another heart would be safe. He placed, the 2 or hearts, number card and in suit, surely an acceptable move. More accurately he attempted to place the card, “seems easy enough.”

“Penalty.” Marinette spoke, curt and cold. Placing the top card from the deck in front of Damian,

Damian accepted that, he’d anticipated that there would inevitably be a few misconceptions on his part he simply hadn’t anticipated it in the first round. ‘perhaps the card must be higher then the previous,’ he thought and reached for a jack of hearts.

Unfortunately, Drake had already place down the 5 of hearts, before he had a chance. Looking annoyingly smug. “It’s my turn Drake. I would think you were competent enough to understand such a childish concept but clearly I was mistaken.”

The idiot didn’t even have the gaul to look insult, instead his coffee addled brain provided him with a devious grin.

A moment of confusion ended with a familiar “penalty,” From the dealer as she place another card infront of Damian.

“What! But . . ” Marinette cut him off with another.

“Penalty.”

Apparently Drake could look even more pleased with him self as Grayson, cringed.

I took Damian receiving half the deck as penalties for Damian to finally grasp what it was he was being penalized for. At one point Drake had fallen over laughing a Damian’s incompetence difficulties disadvantage, earning himself a penalty. The penalty had nothing to do with the multitude of card Damian had attempted to play, it had to do with him opening his big fat mouth.

Chapter Text

To say Damian was failing would be an understatement.

A month. One whole month. In that month he had yet to best this stupid, childless game.

One month of Marinette not even caring to look smug as she denied his birth right time and time again.

Father had thankfully allowed him to continue to train in the gym, the offers of lessons in less lethal fighting techniques were unwanted. Damian was certain there would have been blood sprayed onto the expense wood flooring instead of stuffing from yet another practice dummy.

Honestly, Damian was sure that Marinette had made the game up herself. That is until he looked it up online at the behest of Grayson, his only tolerable ‘brother’, he used the term loosely. Turns out Damian was half right. The game was real and had not been made up by Marinette, however there was not one single set of rules for the game, the dealer, Marinette, made up new rules as the game progressed. According to Google that was the purpose of the game, to determine the new rules created at the drop of hat.

Its infuriated Damian no end. To have the rules changing every 5, flipping minutes. How else was he supposed to prove to Father that he was deserving of the Robin title when he could not play a stupid game of cards? The dealer, Marinette, won every game.

Damian stood still his current actions forgotten.

Who said Marinette had to be the dealer?

* * *

“Grayson!” Damian demanded as he walked into the room of the only person who aided Damian in his task thus far. Alfred being the exception, but the help hardly counted, that was his job.

“Yeah Lil’ D?” Grayson call out from his closet, apparently selecting his garb for the day, Damian thought to himself. Given Grayson’s preference for acrobatics, the jeans were far to restrictive of his hindquarters to allow for efficient movement, whatever purpose they held escaped Damian, but it did not impede his agenda so why did it matter. Damian was not here to advise more functional and practical clothing but rather to insist Grayson help him gain his birthright.

“I require your participation in an activity, designed to best this pointless punishment of Dupain-Cheng’s.” Damian stated plainly. Yes, he called her Dupain-Cheng out loud and Marinette in his head. He’d been informed that the last name that supposedly belong to her previously belonged to her previous parents was fake, thus pointless for referring mentally to her station, he could hardly call her Wayne that would imply she was on his and Father’s level. Which of course she was not. None of his Father’s accumulated brood were.

“Um sure.” Grayson replied. He obviously hadn’t understood Damian’s clearly stated intentions. Honestly how had Father worked with such imbeciles for so long. Surely Father would see the advantage of working with someone more competent when Damian received the mantle and would dispose of the rabble once he saw the truth of their unnecessary presence.

Regardless of their competence Damian need only 2 people to play this infernal game. 2 warm bodies, Grayson was 1. “I shall see you at 10 o’clock for the match.” Damian spoke as he left the first Robin to do whatever it was, he did in the mornings.

He still needed to get to Marinette to ensure her attendance to her own downfall. Perhaps he should record the game so he could have video evidence for Father.

* * *

The three sat at the table at the appointed time. Marinette had no issues attending the game so long as Damian left her to her sewing and homework that evening. While Damian saw no point to her pursuit of needlework when she was the daughter of a man who could easily purchase a designer wardrobe at the drop of a hat. Though the skills might prove useful to her when Father no longer saw to the need to surround himself with a surplus of incompetent children.

Regardless the three sat at the table Marinette, reaching for the deck. Damian reached faster, claiming that he wanted to be the dealer. Marinette gave a puzzled look. Quite possible trying to figure out how I figured out her ‘genius’ punishment, Damian scoffed internally.

The game began as it had every other attempt only this time Damian was in control.

He had been far too smug when the young girl took serval turns to determine that she had to thank him for every penalty card received.

He had made several other equally, in his mind, annoying rules

A British salute for jacks – everyone went straight to the American solute and even Damian had to admit I was amusing to was Grayson even after figuring out what he was supposed to do kept forming the wrong salute. Alfred had even come in at one point and complained at the young master’s lack of proper form. It was quite entertaining

All players must bow to whomever plays a king (least dramatic bow receiving a penalty) – Damian had gotten caught up with this one several times himself and found it very amusing to watch both Marinette and Grayson realise that the king (since there were only two players) was effectively a guaranteed penalty to the other player.

Aces acted as a skip – Honestly Damian just had fun(no he didn’t, fun was a waste of time) some satisfaction dishing out all the penalties there. In previous games the ace was a reverse and the change of function had clearly thrown everyone for a loop.

Suffice it to say that even the boy with a heart of ice found himself enjoying the game, even if he refused to admit it, even to himself. Telling himself he simply enjoyed being closer to the end of the deck and his goal of the robin mantle.

Damian was most definitely NOT having any fun whatsoever.

Damian could not feel more satisfied when he finally given out all the penalties, he could give he deck was gone from his hands as he gave the final card to Marinette for her lack of compliment and Grayson’s 7, above hers (any double = compliment the other person). Was Damian smirking at the fact that he would end the game with a blow to the girl who had dammed him to the never-ending cycle. Oh, most definitely.

He finally won. He stood up and declared himself champion stating that he would join Grayson and Father for proper training that afternoon.

Grayson simply looked at him with an emotion Damian couldn’t pick though his best guess would probably be fear, at the new competition he would face with Damian within the family hiarchy. Marinette on the other hand sat there blank as a sheet, but only for one blissful moment of silence. Before she doubled over laughing.

Damian understood none of this, she should be humiliated that he had bested her instead the girl was practically rolling along the floor laughing. Had the Joker somehow infected the manor with laughing gas?

Marinette speaking began in broken speech before Damian could pursue the though further.

“I. .  HaHa. . Thought it was, Ha. Out of character. Ha. you thought. HaHaHa.”

“Spit it out!” he yelled fed up with Marinette’s clear evasion to admitting her defeat.

“Ok,” Marinette sigh, stifling a final giggle, “The dealer can’t win Damian. Once you run out of deck your supposed to get the pile of cards in the middle then start using them as penalty cards until someone ends the game.”

There were so many thoughts going through Damian head he lost count. He’d never seen her do that. Marinette had never grabbed the pile in the middle he was sure of it.

Seemingly reading his mind Marinette continued “We never got that far in the game before because you always rage quite before a ran out of penalty cards.”

Damian stood there for a moment taking in the gravity of the situation. The Robin title was as far out of his reach as when he started.

Chapter Text

this is just for the 10 character minimum

Chapter Text

It had been a pretty uneventful day at Wayne manor. Well for them it’d been uneventful.

The standard screaming match at the breakfast table, making Bruce thankful the nearest neighbours were some acres away. Followed by the traditional crash, of a Marinette who’d slept in for the third time in a week. Lastly the school day filled with Damian glaring at anyone within 10 feet of him and threatening anyone within 3.

About as normal as it gets. For a Wayne at least.

Marinette was currently working on a design in her room with a police scanner running in the background, sue her for keeping an ear out for her family. Clark’s most recent letter had included a photo of his friend Pete, who in Marinette’s opinion had much better fashion sense and Mari being the future fashion designer she was decided to do something about it. She’d written back a letter response to Clark 3 days ago, unfortunately with Mari’s preferred mode of communication being letters hand delivered at super speed she couldn’t deliver it until tomorrow. Not without being suspicious at least. At least she had plenty of time to work on her design for Clark.

Gotham, gradients of grey would not fit her smiley eyed friend at all, so instead Marinette had been found herself experimenting with lighter colours. Suffice it to say Marinette was enjoying trying to design where functionality was key. Never let it be said that Marinette Wayne shied away from a challenge. Subtly was her middle name.

In a perfect world Marinette, would have continued completely oblivious to the world around her if it wasn’t made of fabric.

When has the world ever been perfect. So of course, when the Jokers, maniacal laugh filled the radio waves, Marinette was pulled out of her trance.

As far as she was concerned there was a special place in hell for the Joker after what he did to her Jay-Jay.

Marinette groan as she heard the man continue about how ‘fun’ the next hour would be. Honestly, the Joker was pretty predictable at this point.

‘Ha. Ha. I kidnapped someone, give me money before I send then back in pieces. Jokes on you I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want anyway. Oh, Batsy showed up. Time for some overly convoluted plan involving fear gas and Harley with a baseball bat. A plan that most definitely cannot fail. Sarcasm. So. Much. Sarcasm. Wow that failed. Ok you should get a crack out of this, time for more laughing gas.’

Predictable.

 Truly the Joker couldn’t get anymore, wait. What.

“Batsy. Batsy. Batsy, However, will you choose.” Oh, sugar honey ice-tea “Nightwing or Robin. Nightwing. Robin.” Oh, sweet macaroons and cookies. “Tonight, one must die Batsy, the only question is which one.”

Marinette felt herself still. Joker had her family. That green-haired, walking fashion atrocity, had her father, her brothers. That monster had taken one brother from her, she would not allow him to take any more.

Marinette had already slipped into superspeed, in her panic. A nervous tick she would have to break one day but for now she’d take advantage of the seconds saved.

Damian could yell at her later.

* * *

Marinette was dead. Damian didn’t care how impossible the tasked he’d set for himself was that superpowered pretender, had crossed the line.

What good was calling a truce if she intended to break the main agreed upon terms. Neither of the youngest children were allowed in the other’s room. A rule that had severed both well. Damian could leave Marinette to her girlish bedroom, there was nothing of interest to him in there anyway, and Damian only had to worry about one nuisance *cough*Grayson*cough* barging into his personal space.

Or that had been the plan until a blurred whirlwind barged into his room throwing everything up in the air, leaving behind a mess and a note. ‘Come to the Batcave. M.’ she didn’t even try to hide it. It wouldn’t matter, when father came home, he would see that Marinette had broken the terms of the truce and should be punished accordingly. Damian truly couldn’t see fault with that logic, with any luck it would draw attention to Marinette’s transgression, in place of his own. Damian was under no illusion that the cat he was hiding in his room would remain hidden indefinably. With carful chosen words perhaps he could convince father to get not get rid of the cat, Damian refused to name him, he couldn’t get attached.

While Damian doubted father would break his unfathomable no kill rule, for an animal. Then again, he might claim as Mother had that the weakness must be eradicated and make him kill the animal himself. Damian did not shudder at the thought as he descended the stairs to the cave. The sooner he sorted out this out the sooner he could return to cuddling enjoying time spent with his the cat.

* * *

Marinette had the broadcast up on the Bat computer, and handwritten, the computer was too small for her, write up of the situation. Damian walked in cave oblivious to the situation. Not for long.

Marinette didn’t even bother watching for Damian’s reaction to her impromptu write up. She wasn’t even going to try and gage his reaction to her proposed plan on the back.

Though the appalled look on his face at the paper in front of him didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Time for the sisterly ‘actually-I-do-know-what-I’m-talking-about-thank-you-very-much’ look.

“We”, she gestured to the space between them “need every advantage we can get Damian.”

Damian’s face spoke plainly ‘I do not need your pathetic existence in my way’ as he opened his mouth to object.

Just as well Marinette was that little bit faster “I doubt you were trained how to fight under the influence of laughing gas, if only because you can’t fight it off you need an antidote or a gas mask. We use masks as a preventative and antidotes as a backup.”

“I can inject myself. I am not a child.” Damian all but yelled back

“Well, you sure are acting like one,” this was getting them nowhere “we need to leave now Damian. I don’t see you with any better ideas,” she brought up a hand to silence her brother’s already attempting to object, “Barging in headfirst is not a plan. Don’t even try telling me that wasn’t your plan, I’ve seen you sparing often enough to know that. Furthermore, even if we consider charging in a ‘plan’, it won’t work against the Joker. He may be a lunatic but he’s also a murderer, fortunately he’s also one minded and we can and will use that to our advantage if we want to save our family.”

Marinette took a moment to allow Damian to choose.

A small, hesitant nod from her brother and she continued.

“Joker, wants a night of the Robins, then I say we give it to him.” She threw an older robin costume at Damian, one of Dick’s earliest suits. “Suit up.” Damian just stared at her as if she were crazy. With this family it was a given.

The suit, while sickening to her inner fashion designer, held qualities that would be crucial to her plan. Marinette donned one of Jason’s first suits, the design was just as horrid, but it should fit her well enough.

Damian seems to have finally snaped out of his stupor “How exactly do you plan to execute you plan when it clearly requires three people.”

Chapter Text

Crime allay was quiet.

A mugger two streets back, would love to see him try again with that busted arm.

The f*cker who couldn’t take no for an answer, yeah well, no solids for you this month or the next.

A couple of street kids, up to their usual shenanigans, the *sshats who tried to abuse them walking away with significantly more broken fingers.

Too quiet.

But hey, Red Hood could take it as a sign his methods were working, and idiots were finally getting it thought their think heads that he just wouldn’t put up with that sh*t.

Jason chose to have a more realistic view of the world. Sh*t was going down somewhere, sometime, soon.  Yeah, well it wasn’t here in his backyard so he could afford to go back to one of his safe houses open a bottle then sleep wake up a midday, kick ass, repeat and rest in the knowledge that almost any sh*thead causing trouble knew better then to piss him off.

Of course, that’s not what happened. No, he had to pick the one safe house were some spoilt brats, one who was in seriously in need of an attitude adjustment, was walking around his floor. WHY THE H*LL DID THAT KID, because he’d met few people who could pull of that arrogance with a voice that high, HAVE TO BE IN HIS BUILDING RIGHT NOW?

“I fail to see how anyone who has to live amongst this scum could offer us.”

F*ck.

Better question. Why did the kid have to stop outside his door?

‘Whatever’ he thought as he trudged over to front door of the apartment ‘I’m not gonna give that pompous sh*t the time of day and if he has a problem with it, I’ll give him an attitude adjustment instead.’

Yeah, nothing could have prepared him for the two children outside his door.

First off, there TWO of them, Jason wasn’t that sloppy, the second one actually knows how to sneak around.

Second, why the hell are they both wearing the Robin suit. What one replacement wasn’t enough Bruce *sshole Wayne needed to get a spare too?

Thirdly, why the h*ll did one of them look like a mini-Bruce.

WAIT was that Pixie in that costume?

.

.

.

Jason was not drunk enough to deal with this sh*t.

* * *

The night had taken a turn from bad to worse. Bruce was chained up to a wall across from his sons.

Both were unconscious, and unmoving. If you hadn’t heard the Joker’s sick plan you could easily think either Dick or Tim were dead already.

He couldn’t choose. How could he possibly choose? There was no choice. He would not let another one of his sons die. He just couldn’t. Not again.

CRASH!!

No. the Joker couldn’t be back yet. He needed to come up with Plan. A Plan to save his boys. A tear began to form, fighting to reach his eyes.

Batman couldn’t cry, he wasn’t allowed to cry.

There had to be a way out of this. He just needed more time.

A thud sounded above his head.

But there was no more time.

Footsteps echoed softly in the distance, but to Bruce then were as loud and damming as a canon.

This was it; the joker was going to walk through that door and Bruce would lose his family again.

The Joker. . . doesn’t wear red or leather.

WHO THE HELL IS THAT GUY?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!

* * *

Yeah, Jason really wasn’t drunk enough to deal with this. ‘Oh great’ he bemoans to himself after picking the lock on the door ‘only B’s awake, just my luck.’

Jason walks over to Dickie bird first; the boy had grown up a bit from the last time Jason had seen him in person. No, he was not afraid of the Bats he just didn’t want to deal with them and went out of his way to avoid them most of the time. Because they would only complicate things. Capish?

A satisfying click showed that Nightwing was also heavier than he remembers, especially we he’s just been released from his restraints.

“Who are you? Where are you taking Nightwing?” Had Jason made a deliberate decision not to face the Bat hanging on the other wall since entering the room. Abso-F*cking-lutely.

“Why do you care.” Thank God for the voice distortion to cover that voice crack. He was not crying God dam it.

“I care because he’s, my partner.” ‘Hard to replace’ Jason’s subconscious provided, ‘Not like me.’

Jason started walking away, Dick still unconscious over his shoulder, he could come back for the bat and the replacement, when the stupid Lazarus pit calmed the f*ck down and stopped giving him ideas. Pixie might be forgiving of his current life choices but there was no way in hells name she’d be ok with him Knocking out their her dad.

“You can’t take my son.”

JasonTodd.exe has stopped working.

“I can’t lose another, to that monster.” It was quiet, he probably wasn’t even aware he’d said it aloud. Bruce was never vulnerable like this.

Both men were still – one defeated, one stunned – for what felt like an eternity. An eternity cut short by a gun shot. Yeah, now was not the time to get sentimental.

Jason quickly placed Nightwing down as another shot rang through the background and ran back over to the man, he once intrusts his life to and started picking. “Then you’re lucky I came to bust you lot outa here, ain’t ya old man.” Now there were gunshots every few seconds.

Batman fell to the ground. A second later. He looked up and if Red Hood didn’t know better, he’d say he saw surprise on that usually stoic face. Though what was more surprising to Jason was the fact that Batman was looking at Red Hood’s chest not his head/helmet.

Oh yeah. That bat Pixie-Pop insisted on painting on before they left, said it should denote him as a friendly. Yeah, right there wasn’t enough paint in the world to make him look friendly.

“Now get your ass into gear and grab the replacement, I got Nightwing.”

Any emotion that may or may not have been there was gone. Instead, the ever-stoic Batman was back and wasted no time breaking the new Robins cuffs.

Throwing the unconscious boy over his shoulder, looking to Red Hood as if to say, ‘lead the way’. Yeah, that was the emotionally constipated Batman we all know, and love hate.

* * *

This could easily be written off as the greatest emotional roller coaster Bruce had been on since Jason died. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the face right now. If this Red, Helmet? man was here to help then he could let the use of his symbol without his permission go just this once. Batman did not need more copycats.

That could wait until his children were no longer in mortal danger.

That’s how two grown men wearing bats on their chests, with two more people thrown over their shoulder end up running through the Joker’s not so secrete hideout.

It’s also how Batman end up having a heart attack, or close to it when he saw exactly what or rather who the Joker was shooting at.

Damian.

In Dicks original costume.

The costume with practically no armour.

The costume that looked like a traffic light and would be exactly the opposite to the black assassin robes Damian had been trained in.

The costume he was cursing himself, for ever letting Dick wear, let alone fight crime in. Why did he ever think that was a good idea again.

The Red Hat, seriously had to ask the guy his name, must have noticed him stop.

“What are you doing, the car’s just outside.” He hissed under his breath, pulling Batman down by his cape so the man would look him in the face, er helmet? Seriously needed to get this guy’s name.

“Oh,” the guy with a read something-to-be-identified-at-a-later-date, “they’ll be fine.”

Then he just waved it off and kept walking.

He. Kept. Walking.

Bruce might not have been father of the year material, but he also knew better then to leave his son alone with the Joker. Not again.

So impulsive decision making it is.

Step one - throw, Robin!Tim at red headed guy. Check.

Step two - smash through window. Check.

Step three two and a half - listen to Red person shout profanities. Ok not actually a step but it happens anyway so let’s amend that to step 2.5

Actual step three – run in and distract the Joker so Damian can get away. In Progress and could be going a lot better. Mainly because this plan would have gone a lot better if Batman had realised that he didn’t have his belt. Yeah, this could have gone a lot better.

* * *

This was actually going better the Marinette thought it would. Damian was actually playing his part well. Now they just had to hope the two of them could keep it up until Jason could get Dad, Dick, and Tim to the Batmobile parked outside.

Marinette still had the image of Damian driving the car both from the cave to Jason’s multiple safe houses, they found him at the third, and then the funhouse Joker regularly used as a hideout. Honestly Marinette expected Jason to drive after they picked him up, but Jason just said, “the old man’ll blow a gasket and the kid can clearly drive.” Though that seemed to be the only thing they agreed on. The plan had been debated several times in the car but ultimately no one *cough*Damian*cough* could come up with a better plan that didn’t involve someone *more coughs*Jason or Damian*even more coughs* killing the clown.

But the plan was working. Marinette and Damian were tag teaming, to distract the clown. Is it wrong that part of Marinette was finding this a little fun?

She ended up standing up or a beam, hands on her hips, in plain sight of the Joker. Damian stood of to the side hidden in the shadows. He called out “Hey Joker, is it so hard to hit a moving target!”

Marinette playing her part and mouthing the words, as them came out of her brother’s mouth, watching carefully as the Joker took aim and fired bullets that Marinette knew wouldn’t hurt her. Or at least she thought they wouldn’t. yeah, let’s not ponder that. There was a high likely hood she was bullet proof let’s just not test that theory.

But yeah, it was all going well until her dad came barrelling in without his belt trying to subdue the Joker.

And now he’s cornered behind a create while Joker’s still shooting at him. Great.

Damian looked to her and mouthed four words. Me. Father. You. Joker.

Objectively that did make the most sense so she nodded in response, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t internally panicking over everything that could go wrong.

Yay.

* * *

Yeah. This right here is why he always says go in with a plan, because if you don’t you end up in situations like this.

And the hypocrite of the year award goes to Bruce Wayne, whose eldest children had to collect this award on his behalf on account of the fact he is an absolute hypocrite and got himself killed doing exactly what he always said you should never do.

The fact that Joker had stopped shooting at him was a relief, he’d probably run out of bullets.

“Why won’t you little Birdies just die,” gunshot, “I killed one of you lot,” gunshot “how many more of you does that bat have,” gunshot “does he get a bulk discount?” so much for he ran out of bullets.

Batman braved a glance. Damian was wrestling with the Joker. What the @&*^%&#.

Bruce barely had time to process anything, before another shot fired, and he had to watch his child be thrown back by the bullet to the chest.

No.

Not again.

Bruce wasted no time. Or at least he didn’t want to.

 A firm grip held him from behind when he turned to face his attacker, he was met with. . . Damian?!?

“We need to go.”

It didn’t take too long for the proverbial penny to drop.

The joker just shot his daughter.

That bastard was going down.

Bonus

“We all clear on the plan?”

“Tsk, I still say trusting Todd is foolish.”

“Pixie pop I love ya, but can’t I just shoot the clown and be done with it.”

Cue the mini-BatGlare that is somehow more terrifying than the actual thing.

Both boys wisely choose to abandon all argument and proceed with the plan. Both telling themselves it was for any other reason than the truth. Marinette was scarier than the rest of the bat family combined.

Chapter Text

Marinette being the peculiar individual she was no stranger to some of the stranger event’s life had thrown her way. Being an alien – hey if it looks like a duck, she had arrived in a spaceship – with super strength, speed and invulnerability meant she could do the impossible practically every other day and at 11 years old she managed to do some incredible things.

How many kids do you know who could be shot at by the JOKER and LIVE? Hint: not many.

Though the scolding she’d gotten from EVERYONE took all the fun out of being bulletproof.

Ok so maybe Marinette should have been a little more careful to not have let the Joker fire off a shot at her and maybe she should have made more of an effort to not have been quite so close when he shot her. But is her defence that was almost 4 years ago when her family had just been kidnapped by the same maniac who had killed her no-longer dead brother a few years prior, and honestly had that pummelling coming.

Yeah, that night was perhaps not the most interesting of Marinette’s childhood, but it certainly was one of the liveliest. Even if it was only a few months ago.

Surprising everyone she received a scolding from Jason first, though he was Red Hood at the time, but hindsight is 20-20. . . and in this case extremely funny.

Red Hood be like “Pixie that was reckless and you should know better.”

Rest of the batfam (minus Damian): “Why do you care? Who are you? Why are you using Jason’s nickname for the tiny angel”?

Damian: “Todd, I demand an explanation.”

For a family of detectives, it’s kinda sad how long it took them to put 2 and 2 together. On the plus everyone started grilling Jason on the how? Why? And ‘What the hell were you thinking’?

The ‘we were pretty sure she was bullet proof but didn’t really want to check’ situation kind of got over shadowed but the ‘HoLy Sh*t JaSoN iS AlIvE!!! situation.

Yes, her family was strange. Not like yours is any... Actually. yours is probably less crazy.

Life had settled down bit since then something no one saw coming happened.

Damian won the game of Mao.

How is anyone’s guess. *cough* internet *cough

Tim and Damian had a few rows – well a few more than normal – over Damian becoming Robin. Unsurprisingly several screaming matches ensued.

Tim had this ridiculous notion that taking away robin, meant taking away Tim’s ability to be useful.

It was time like this that made Marinette really hate Jake and Janet Drake.

Though it might help if the rest of her family could comprehend and respond to basic emotions.

Oh sh*t, Timmy’s upset, Is he ok? Check him over, does he have any broken bones? Concussion? No.  and he’s not bleeding to death. Uh, what do I do now?

Yeah, her family could use a few a lot of therapy sessions.

Suffice it to say, Tim was having an early mid-life crisis. Bruce was incapable of being helpful. Dick can’t comprehend why Timmy isn’t ready to move on like he was at that age. Jason raging out at Dick for being, well, a d*ck and Bruce, for being Bruce. Damian was just being his blunt self, which was definitely not helping this situation.

The pass over of the Robin mantle did go ahead. Damian was smug. Marinette was kicking Damian’s butt in training, thinking before you leap beats assassin training. More accurately baiting Damian and having invulnerability to cover your stuff ups. Tim took up the family tradition of designing atrocious costumes.

Yeah, Marinette was not participating in that tradition. No if Marinette took the mantle of Robin, she would do it in style, and not when she was a tween. Thank you very much.

Yes, her life was weird, doesn’t mean she would go out of her way to make it weirder. Marinette could deal with anything the universe could throw at her she just wanted to train some more first. Letting Gotham know Robin had powers was an invitation for them to test those powers. Yeah. *Inhale* Hard pass.

Give it a few years and Marinette would be ready for anything.

* * 4 years later (Mari is 15) * *

Nope

Nope

Nope

Marinette was noping out right.

No.

Just No.

Mari had been training wither Dad for years now.

Nope. Not helpful.

Acrobatics with Dick. Sure, Mari could flip her way out of any hold Jason could throw at her

Not helpful right now.

Damian, can I borrow a knife.

No. Ok

None of that meant she was prepared to deal with this.

Her coffee cup that looked like it had personally offended Dr Freeze.

Chapter Text

“Happy Birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday dear Marinette

Happy birthday to you”

Someone really needed to tell Jason not to sing out of tune. Never mind Alfred was already on it.

While this wasn’t the biggest milestone, I mean it wasn’t actually the day she was born, not unless it was like a cosmic star-aligning coincidence. Mari’s birthday was still not an occasion for anyone to miss. Well unless you wanted to risk upsetting Marinette, which you just never wanted to do.

• She was the human incarnation of sunshine and all things good in the world, why would you mess with that
• Marinette was Hella scary when pissed

Yet another swirl of pink icing lay in front of Marinette as it did every year. 15 candles, also pink, burning bright.

A large knife was handed to her by Damian who held what Marinette would say was a smile in his eyes. Damian would argue it was a squint, meant to shield himself from the mass of pink.

Sue her for liking pink, it was not a requirement in this family to wear dark clothes. Marinette and Dick just happened to be the only ones to wear anything colourful.

The cake was cut and distributed at superspeed, a tradition that would never die. The family sat around the massive table consuming a pink monstrosity and discussing every topic under the sun. the loudest argument being if dolphins where left or right-handed, and that Tim needed to get more sleep if he was really asking that.

Did Marinette mention how much she loved her family.

The birthday girl sat at the head of the table and smiled at her brother’s antics. What else could you expect from a family who thought dressing up like animals and fighting crime was the solution to all their problem.

“Time for presents!” Dick was always this enthusiastic at birthdays. Everyone refused to admit that they secretly loved it.

Marinette received presents from Bruce, Alfred and each of her brothers all wrapped up in perfectly folded paper, in other word by Alfred.

First was her present from Tim, if only because he might fall asleep before she opened it otherwise. A coffee mug, no surprise there, but the image on the side was hilarious. It was a low battery symbol combined with the bat symbol “Low bat”. This mug was definitely joining her even growing collection. Tim needed to come up with more creative presents.

Next was a large scrapbook from Jason, Fashions Best Forgotten by Jason Todd. Marinette stared at the book. The title promised nightmares, but the smirk on Jason’s face promised something else. Hesitantly the cover was opened. Oh My. Pft. Jason you are the worst.

The over enthusiastic eldest looked over her shoulder to see what was so funny only to be met with a photo of himself. Not just one photo but several, perhaps every photo of him, in his Robin outfit and a few of Discowing sprinkled in between. With several photo’s focussing on something that was not Dick’s face.

Jason couldn’t hold back after hearing Dickie bird choke on air. “Hey Pixie, ha, there’s, ha, some extra pages, ha ha, at the back, ha, encase, ha ha ha, you feel the need to add anything. Ha”

Unfortunately, none of the families’ gifts could leave the family (minus Dick) quite as amused but they were still very appreciated.

The pastry encyclopedia from Alfred would be very useful, and the personalised sketchbook from her dad covered in bats and cherry blossoms. The promise of matching pens from Dick if he ever stopped looking like a beetroot had everyone laughing.

The only gift left was from Damian. Marinette took the small gift and immediately noticed how light it was. ‘So not another dagger then. That’s a first’ The paper gave way to reveal a small, folded piece of black fabric. Why was Marinette doing this at regular instead of super speed because Dick would complain, the cake was allowed as a long-time family joke, presents must be done at a speed everyone could see at. Which Marinette would forever blame as the reason why it took her so long to realise what it was, she was holding?

A domino mask. Not just any domino mask. Damian’s mask. The Mask Damian wore as Robin. Robin. The role he literally tried to kill her (water under the bridge, been there done that bought the t-shirt, mess up her brother and she’d mess you up) over like 4 years ago.

Marinette looked up at the serious boy sitting across from her. He nodded.

A quick look at the rest of her family. The sh*t eating grins told her exactly why this present was left till last. They planned this. Her whole family planed this, and she hadn’t suspected a thing.

Marinette was seriously going to have to work on her detective skills if she was going to be the next Robin

* * *

‘Not a bad end to a good day’, thought Marinette as she poured a highly caffeinated drink in her new mug. Either it had at least a dozen extra shot or she couldn’t feel a thing. Damn superpowers get it the way of everything.

“I can’t understand how you can stand that abomination.” Damian walked towards the refrigerator

“Iron stomach.”

“More like steel.” Marinette must have developed super hearing; it must be a necessity in this family with all the mumbling. She almost missed a sign of the apocalypse “Can I ask you something?”

Was Damian. Asking for help?

Don’t get her wrong. Damian has come a long way, but no one thought he’d come that far.

“Sure thing.” No way was Marinette discouraging her little brother. Was Damian technically older than her, by a few months sure, but older sister hood is a mentality.

Damian stood against the bench, almost as if he for steading himself for an attack “I would appreciate your assistance in ensuring my new hero persona is more tasteful, and undeserving of a place in your new scrap book.”

Her Little brother was asking for her advice. On fashion. A topic, of which she was the family expert. Even better she was asking for assistance with something she has been working on for years. She had so many ideas.

“We’re going to have to have a long conversation, you will have ultimate veto power, but you will need to at least hear me out on all things cut, colour and shape. Before you argue let me remind you that I have spent just as much time around studying our families suits as you have if not more. Fashion will not come at the expense of function, but I am not letting you fight in the armoured equivalent of a burlap sack.” Marinette raised her cup to her lips to take a sip. Scratch that too hot, better cool it off.  “Are those terms agreeable?”

Marinette kept her eyes on her brother waiting for his response. Only Damian’s face was blank.  And he was staring at her. Was there something on her face. She’ll deal with it once she’s had her coffee.

Was her coffee cold. Surely her breath wasn’t that cold.

Why did her coffee cup look like it had personally offended Dr Freeze?

Nope Marinette was not prepared to deal with this

Chapter Text

Dear Clark

It been a while since I last sent you a letter.

Ha try a few months. Marinette was tired as she reread the words she’d written yesterday. Yeah, she knew what she was signing up for when she took the mantle of Robin. She wouldn’t be much a detective if she’d just overlooked all the challenges her brothers had faced. That did not mean that she was prepared for the craziness that is Vigilantism.

Unfortunately, my home life has been crazy lately. Don’t worry I’m all good. Even if Damian hadn’t calmed down over the last few years, I’m pretty sure he’d be too exhausted to try any thing

Honestly vigilantes should have a support group. Did they have unions for vigilantes? Marinette didn’t really see how they could when her family were the only people crazy enough to dress up and play hero.

Knock. Knock.

Marinette was never going to finish this letter. Rather than fight it she dropped her head in defeat, “it’s open.”

A very tentative Dick stepped in. “I thought you didn’t start patrol for another half hour.”

“Well.” Dick was fidgeting. That was never a good sign. “We, uh” well at least he recognised the grievous error.

“Diiiick, it’s my night off”

“Sorry cup cake.  Tim’s buried under WE paperwork and Jason and Bruce aren’t speaking again.”

“So, situation normal then.”

“Maaaaaari.” Why were Dick’s puppy dog eyes so hard to resist?

“Fine I’m coming.”

The Letter to Clark lay abandoned once more. Maybe tomorrow

* * *the patrol no one *cough*Marinette*cough*wants to go on* * *

The chilly Gotham winds blew across her face, outlining the domino, or rather her domino. Marinette had done a complete overhaul of the Robin suit even the mask was not spared.

Marinette loved Dick she truly did, but his fashion sense could use some work. We do not speak of Discowing. The original Robin was hesitant but had to agree to Marinette’s design. In fact, the only one who hadn’t liked her suit was Bruce, which made Jason love her suit even more.

A hop and skip across the rooftop had Robin standing next to Nightwing, “You sure the buy is going down tonight.”

Her brother nods.

“let’s take out some hired guns.”

* * *

“Ok, Hey Wing.” Robin reached up to her earpiece

“Yeah.”

“You remember saying you weren’t too sure if dark colours were a good idea for Robin.”

Dick knew a loaded question when he heard it. “Yeeeaaah?” Marinette could practically feel him wincing from here.

“I used my speed to take out the first 2 and the third fainted when he saw me.”

“”

“He ran into me, asked if there was blood on my boots and blacked out.”

“. . . pft. Ha, ha, ha, ha, oh my. Ha, ha, ha.”

“I know right. Say what you like Wing but I’m getting good results so far.”

“That’s because you dyed the boots and gloves to make it look like they’re covered in blood.”

“Hey isn’t half the point of Batman to scare criminal into not committing crimes.”

“Yes, and Robin is supposed to be there to keep him honest and crack jokes.”

“”

“”

“You know you’re the only one who ever cracked jokes right.”

“”

“Fine. Hey, has Bats ever made someone faint like that.”

“Pretty sure he has yeah”

“Do you think I could get Gotham to be more scared of Robin then Batman”

“Wow. Good luck with that.”

“Hey, a girl can dream. I just think it would be funny. We should probably go back to taking down bad guys shouldn’t we.”

* * *

Marinette sat down at her desk she didn’t care that it was late, or should she say early, if she put this letter off any further it’d never get sent.

Dear Clark

It been a while since I last sent you a letter. Unfortunately, my home life has been crazy lately. Don’t worry I’m all good. Even if Damian hadn’t calmed down over the last few years, I’m pretty sure he’d be too exhausted to try anything.

My brothers as always are as frustrating as ever, but I still love them dearly. For the 5^th time don’t ask me to explain how those two are not mutually exclusive, you cannot explain sibling love. You’ll understand it if your parents ever decide to have more kids.

How are Martha and Johnathan? Your last letter mentioned there was some problem in town, something about the Luther plant. I hope things have worked themselves out. As

I hope farm life is treating all of you well. I still can’t imagine my family doing farm work for more than a week before we all through our hands up in defeat. Unless they made it a competition, then they’d just run-on stubbornness for a few extra days.

Hey, our birthdays are coming up. I still can’t believe we share a birthday. Maybe Jason’s right and we really are twins

P.S. remember how I said brothers are annoying. I’m currently having a debate with my brothers and would love your input. Which outfit is better? The new Robin’s or the original Robin’s outfit. I put a photo of both in the envelope.

Marinette looked over the letter one more time. Was she being petty bringing Clark into the argument between her and her brothers? Probability but Clark seemed to enjoy getting roped into her sibling drama. He would be a great big brother if his parents ever decided to have more kids, but for now he would be her pen pal/ best friend/ you cannot stop me from claiming him as my little brother. She totally hadn’t picked up her father’s adoptive habits, she just saw Clark as a brother. One she didn’t spend anywhere near as much time with and thus was nowhere near as constantly annoyed by brother. Beside Clark had a happy normal life he didn’t need to get dragged into all this hero drama.

‘Well now there nothing left to do but post it’.  Thought Marinette as she fell back onto her bed letter still in hand. ‘or’ a little nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Jason prompted. ‘You could run it there and pretend you posted it a few days ago. Then you’d get a response faster and you could check up on *cough*spy*cough* on Clark.’

Did Marinette have morals, yes. Was she going to do this anyway?

Seeing Clark would be nice.

* * *

The run felt especially quick today. Face it Smallvile wasn’t too far away from Gotham. The only difficulty Marinette had when run across continent is making sure she’s not seen, which is really easy at 4 in the morning. But the run still didn’t feel half as long as it did 5 years ago. Though to be fair Marinette had much better control of her powers and had gotten much so much faster.

The letter had been dropped in the letter box around the front. Marinette was just soaking in the calmness of the corn fields. The gentle breeze blowing through carrying a scent distinctly lacking the stench Marinette associated with home.

Bonus

Clark: oh, cool Marinette’s replay

Local Mailman: here you go sonny (passes singular letter for Martha)

Clark: huh. I guess he must have come twice today.

Clark: (two polaroids fall out of envelope) oh, Photos. (Clark cheats and speed reads through the letter to figure out why the photos) huh I wonder who Robin is. Guess I’ll have to ask in my next letter. The girls definitely the one Mari prefers. I’d love to meet the guy who dresses up like a traffic light.

The photos

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Close up of Mari thankyou SliverWhiteRaven for including such a cool costume design in your outline of this story. I hope I did you description justice

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Chapter Text

Today was the day. Well night. Tonight, was the night. Tonight, was special. Why? Because for once in all her history the criminals of Gotham agreed on something. They agreed that all of them were facing a problem greater than themselves. Never before had so many major league villains, mob bosses, henchmen and hitmen come together in peace to solve their problems. After the enemy of my enemy is my friend until I stab them in the back right.

The Joker stood in front of the rowdy crowd. I’m not sure what you’d expect from a bunch of villains, but I doubt it’s peace and quiet.

“Settle down thieves and murders it’s time to get to business.” The maniacal clown called over the masses “Harley! Get out here.”

“Comin’ Mista J.” cried out the red and black assistant as she wheeled a white board out in front of the masses. “Here you go puddin’.”

“Harley write up tonight’s topic and notes of any good ideas.”

“Yes sir, Mista J.” as she got to work using several neon green and pink whiteboard markers (if these aren’t a thing they should be)

“As you all should know,” continued the Joker “We are all have different goals of what to do after we remove the bats. However, as we have all learned time and time again. It’s not that simple is it.”

There were several grunts of agreement. “We are here to discuss how we wish to deal with the person who has made it even harder to get rid of those stupid bats.”

I true overly dramatic villain fashion he reveals an overly decorated version of “How does she do it?!?!?!?!?!?!?”

“Let’s face it. That new robin is a menace.”

“The old ones you could at least have some fun with. The new ones just a party pooper puddin’”

“She’s just Scarry.”

“She’s tough as nails that one.”

“She a kid, just shoot em. Bang! Done.” – some random guy whose miraculously never run into Marinette as Robin

Everyone turned to face that last guy. The impossible happen yet again as the entire room agreed, that this man was either an idiot or had somehow miraculously never run into the scariest robin in history.

A random goon, looked like one of penguin’s broke the silence “that wouldn’t work.”

“What!? Does the girl wear full body armour? Get an armour piecing bullet. Done.”

“No, she’s just bendy as h*ll.”

“That girl can pull off more of that crazy acrobatics sh*t then Nightwing”

“Didn’t you hear about the bAcKfLiP aRrEsT!?!?!?”

The guy still didn’t seem too convinced. “Just use a machine guy. You can tell me she can out flip a dozen rounds a second.”

The collective decide he was a lost cause and continued with the meeting

“Ok,” who decided that the Joker should oversee this meeting, “clearly we need to refresh ourselves. Harley, take a note.” The joker raised his index as he were addressing an assembly of college students instead of the entire criminal population of Gotham. “Anyone want to go first, on what doesn’t work.”

Bane raised his hand

“Banie. Go.”

“Never engage the bambina in combat.”

Several nods of agreement, groans and rubbing of old wounds. Yeah, no arguments there. That one guy from earlier, still didn’t look like he believed a little girl could cause so much trouble. Yeah, the room is just going to ignore that guy.

“Don’t bother trying to outrun Robin.”

“She calls Batman slow!”

“She teleports. There one second and you’re handcuffed too next.”

Harley’s now written both items and drawn a hammer, a bomb, and few skulls in the same fluorescent pink and green and added one of her own.

• No punching
• No Running
• No fun

“Guy we’re all forgetting the most important detail. tHe GiRl Is A dEmOn!”

Ok. That caught the attention of the room.

Yeah, this might be Gotham but that doesn’t mean they’re going to believe in demons.

I mean come on

Next, you’re going to say magic is real too.

Or Aliens. I mean come on people.

Nah this guy’s just roles with it. Doing the classic big eyed. Curled in on himself and shaking. “She calls on the hearts of the doomed to bring forth the four winds to channel the power of the eternal winter to freeze your soul. “

Because demons.

Yeah. No.

Demons are not real. This is Gotham not fairyland.

The weather seemed to turn cool around Robin. That was more likely some tech. Probably Wayne stuff. They come up to the weirdest and coolest things. It’s a shame the Wayne’s didn’t do weapons.

While there is argument over the cause, they can agree that temperature phenomenon is a thing. Hot and cold, so they add ‘wear a coat’ and ‘use rubber guards on your guns’ because things could pretty hot with Robins supreme Batglare.

Is robin scarier than Batman. Yeah, that was undeniable.

There is only one item left to be discussed for the evening. Perhaps the most complicated issue for the villains to deal with.

“So,” the Clown began, “How are we going to deal with the psychic problem.”

Yeah. The villains of Gotham would not believe in demons. But they would believe in psychics.

Well, when in Gotham.

“Wait.” Oswald Cobblepot stands on a create to address the crowd. “Do we truly believe Robin is capable of such nonsense.”

Uproar followed. A few comments stood out

“How else do you think she does it.”

“The Robin’s have always been too clever for their own good.”

“Yes, but we could still get the drop on the wonder boys. This wonder girl sees every bomb we plant and every weapon we brandish, she plans for all of it.”

Riddler stood up to chime in “she knows the answers to everything we throw at her at her.”

She hears all.

She sees all.

She knows all

You could hide nothing from Robin.

“We can’t truly believe that robin is Psychic. I’d sooner believe in Aliens”

the argument ceased at the sound of a thud from above.

The room was far too familiar with what followed that sound. Some tried to run while they still could. Others knew such actions to be pointless.

A single man unsure of what he ought to do mumbled under his breath

“Please let that shadow be Batman.”

Chapter Text

Today was the day. Well night. Tonight, was the night. They had been preparing for weeks and they were finally ready for the single greatest bust in the history of the Bats. Despite excessive research they couldn’t determine the purpose of this meeting beyond the criminals of Gotham deciding to pool their resources to deal with their ‘bat problem’.

The Batman did not smile at the knowledge that his crusade, had had such a great impact. After all Batman doesn’t smile. Brucie did, but then again, the prized son of Gotham was always smiling. This past week had just been more genuine.

The whole family stood atop the roof across from the site of what would be their greatest accomplishment as heroes to date.

In order.

The man who started it all. Clad in black the Dark night. The caped crusader Bruce Wayne aka Batman. Rocking the classic cowl.

The original Boy Wonder. The first Robin. The Man who would acts like cartwheel solve every problem. Richard ‘Dick’ Greyson aka Nightwing. Rocking a suit tight in all the places.

The second Robin. The ex-crime lord. The man who would gladly shoot all his problems away. Jason Todd aka the inaccurately name Red Hood. Rocking a red helmet.

The third Robin. The boy who out detective the Batman. The kid whose too smart for his own good. Timothy Drake aka Red Robin. Rocking all the utility belts.

The fourth Robin. The Heir to the Demon. The child with no ability to process his emotions without violence. Damian Wayne aka Starling. Rocking an all-black costume that rival batman.

Lastly the newest Robin. The first female to hold the title. The superpowered bad*ss with a working fashion sense. Marinette Wayne aka Robin. The h*lla scary version who looked like she just walked through blood.

Yeah, the whole family was ready to take name and kick but. The meting wasn’t due to start for another hour, but the Bats wanted to have an idea of what the villains were plotting first.

“Robin,” Tim handed a few things to Marinette who, with a nod of understanding, whipped around the target building and back.

The surveillance was in place.

Now all that was left to do was wait.

* * * 2 hours later * * *

‘note to self’ Marinette was making tiny braids in Dicks hair ‘Villains don’t believe in punctuality’

“How big of a turn out are we expecting again?” braiding is getting really repetitive.

“76” Tim had spent all week getting that number. Well not all week for once he actually went to sleep at a reasonable time last night. If you count 11 as reasonable. Which Marinette did. For Tim anyway.

Dick just sat there nimb to the gentle pulling of his hair. “I wonder if the enemy of my enemy is my friend applies to villains too”

Cue the Batfam asking random questions for 10 minutes, while Batman regrets his life choices.

“Can one of you explain this to me?” Jason turned around the tablet with video from inside the building. “who decided that the Joker was the right person to run a meeting.”

Tim shrugged. Dick tried not to laugh. Bruce regretted life. Damian dead panned. Marinette face palmed.

Yeah. This was gonna be a recipe for disaster.

Marinette would very much like to ignore the imminent dumpster fire.

“Hey what Harley Writing on the White board?”

“OMG!”

“You have got to be kidding me!”

“What are those imbeciles up to now?”

“Cupcake you need to see this.”

What could possible be that interesting on a white board.

Well, that would do it.

‘How does she do it?!?!?!?!?!?!?’

The hours of research had told them that the villains had all convened to discuss a threat they believe that they were all facing. A threat that was related to the bats. They were there to discuss Robin. They were discussing how to deal with her.

Oh my macaroons.

“Turn up the volume.” Tim did as Jason requested.

This evening just got so much more interesting.

* * *

“She a kid, just shoot em. Bang! Done.”

“Good luck with that.” Sassy Marinette making an appearance. Yeah, she’s not disappearing anytime soon.

“Has that guy even met you Cupcake?”

“He is clearly an imbecile if he has and even if he hasn’t he is still foolish for the lack of research.”

“I’d like to see that guy try and shoot Pixie.”

“That girl can pull off more of that crazy acrobatics sh*t then Nightwing”

“Didn’t you hear about the bAcKfLiP aRrEsT!?!?!?”

“I resent that.”

“Of course, you would Drama Queen.”

“Dick, I won that backflip contest, fair and square”

“Why am I related to you?”

“Because Bruce has a problem.”

“Do I want to know what you two were up to.” Cue the disappointed Batglare.

“Just a little contest in the middle of a robbery”

* * *

“Never engage the bambina in combat.”

“When did you fight Bane?”

Marinette just shrugs “Which time.”

* * *

“Don’t bother trying to outrun Robin.”

“Yeah, that never ends well.”

“Mood.”

“She calls Batman slow!”

“Did you actually?”

Cue Batglare. Batdad does not forget.

“I refuse to confirm or deny anything.”

“She teleports. There one second and you’re handcuffed too next.”

“I do not teleport.”

“Been there done that man”

“Jay!”

“What you’ve done that to us too.”

Marinette is not pouting

The whiteboard now reads

• No punching
• No Running
• No fun

“I am plenty fun.”

“That you are Pixie.”

* * *

“Guy we’re all forgetting the most important detail. tHe GiRl Is A dEmOn!”

“Hey Starling, looks like Robin stole your title”

Damian did not pout.

“Are they serious?”

The guy is now shaking “She calls on the hearts of the doomed to bring forth the four winds to channel the power of the eternal winter to freeze your soul. “

“OMG they actually believe that.”

“What has become of Gotham.”

“These fools have reached a new level of idiocy.”

“That guy should do stand up.”

* * *

Is robin scarier than Batman. Yeah, that was undeniable.

“We have confirmation.”

“I’m afraid they are correct father.”

“Cupcakes isn’t that scarry.”

“Dick, I love you. But no.”

* * *

“How are we going to deal with the psychic problem.”

“They cannot be serious.”

“How?!?! Just HOW???”

“How do you even come to that conclusion?”

“Why?”

“Wait.” Oszwald Cobblepot stands to address the crowd. “Do we truly believe Robin is capable of such nonsense.”

“Since when did the penguin have a brain.”

“Yes, but we could still get the drop on the wonder boys. This wonder girl sees every bomb we plant and every weapon we brandish, she plans for all of it.”

“They’re talking about the x-ray vision.”

“Yes, because psychics are the first thing that springs to mind in that situation.”

She hears all.

She sees all.

She knows all

“I don’t know about that last one”

“Hey I’m smart.”

“We can’t truly believe that robin is Psychic. I’d sooner believe in Aliens”

“Oh, the Irony.”

* * *

“We should probably get going.”

“Yeah probably”

* * *

Wait… is, is Robin, looming? Since when did Robin loom like that? When did they start being able to soundlessly move closer? Wait, hold on, since when did Marinette’s feet not touch the ground??

Marinette could fly. Why did Pixie get all the super cool powers?

“Hey Pix, did you know you could fly”

“huh, Hood what are you talking about?”

“Pix, look at you feet.”

“What? AHH!!!”

“I’ll take that as a no”

“ummmmmmm”

“Can you get down on your own.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmm.”

Jason spoke into his com, swallowing a laugh “Starlings find us some rope.”

“Hood, did you seriously run out of zip ties already. You were briefed on this T. . . ”

“The rope is for Robin.”

“”

“”

“Why does Robin require rope.”

“Because she’s currently floating on the ceiling with no idea how to come down.”

“I’ll get some rope.” Batdad to the rescue because everyone else is also on call.

And that is the story of how the biggest bust in Gotham’s history ended with Marinette being dragged across roof tops like a balloon.

bonus

“Please let that shadow be Batman.”

Marinette: Did I hear that right?

Chapter Text

Following the greatest bust in Batclan history, the Waynes decided that they were overdue a holiday. A family holiday, no costumes, and no weapons. The boy did end up bringing ‘hidden’ weapons, but no one had gotten away with bringing any of their suits, so Bruce was calling that a win.

Dick had made a comment that seeing as the bust was only possible thanks to Marinette newfound crypted status that she should choose the location. Surprising no one argued this. I mean it’s not like they couldn’t afford it. Besides Brucie was long overdue to do something spontaneous. Gotham could last a week without them.

That is how the fashion challenged vigilantes ended up in Paris. One of the fashion capitals of the world. Marinette was in heaven. This was going to be the greatest family holiday ever.

No crime. No violence.

Ok Marinette wasn’t delusional there would be crime in the city of light, it should be significantly less than Gotham but there would still be some violence. It just wouldn’t be her family’s problem. That sounded crueller than intended. Marinette was just really looking forward to a relaxing week with her family and no super villains.

 Can you say Jinx?

The batfam had decide to try a local bakery. The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie hosted a delicious selection. The Boys were enjoying the sweets. Damian even found a few more savoury delicacies more to his tastes. They would be returning before the end of this trip. Hands down.

Anyway, back to progressing the story. The Jinx. Yeah, Marinette really shouldn’t have even thought such things.

They really should have expected something to go wrong, Marinette didn’t even need her super senses to figure out something was up.

It was kinda hard to miss the nice baker you just spent the past 5 minutes talking to vanish before your eyes while his wife starts panicking.  

From there honed instincts from years of vigilantism took over as the whole family rushed out of the patisserie. Though Gotham couldn’t quite prepare them for this.

Then again who expects to see a Video game character brought to life.

Ultimate Mecha Strike III was one of the greatest games of all time, in Marinette’s humble opinion was the greatest game of all time. But that didn’t mean she was excited to see the black avatar supersized and shooting off its green laser attack.

The Batfam was swept up in a flurry of movement. More accurately the people around them swept them up in their hurry to get to something. Marinette had made sure to brush up on her French, as if it had ever had a chance to grow stale with all the fashion magazines she read. So, when the crowd mentioned an akuma shelter. Marinette’s first thought was like any normal I-can-speak-several-languages-on-command-person why is this my life. First of all, last time Marinette check that was a Japanese word, not French and second it meant demon.

First Gotham now Paris. Has the whole world reverted to the dark ages where everything inexplicable is the work of dEmOnS?!?!?!?!

If so, Marinette would like to get out of here please.

Oh wait, she had super speed. Goodbye superstition people Robin was about to go debunk a mystery.

It barely takes a moment and Marinette has already changed into her uniform; the hotel wasn’t too far away. Then again Metropolis wasn’t too far when you had superspeed. The dark colours didn’t really suit the brightness of the city of lights. In other words, Roblin stood out like a sore thumb.

But at least now she can do something about the. . . Wait where did the giant robot go?

How could you lose track of something that big? Follow up Question how did everyone evacuate that fast? How often were these attacks that people could evacuate that fast?

A head swimming with questions was a dangerous thing. While it was important as a detective/partner of a detective to take in all the details of your environment for the ongoing investigation it was more important to survive long enough that you could relay and make use of this information. This is why you should focus on your environment and especially when there is a massive robot sneaking up behind you. If Marinette got hit by the massive robot’s beam and teleported to a massive stadium because was foolish enough to allow herself to be caught up in such a rookie mistake.

So, you ask, what was Marinette’s reaction to nearly being hit by a massive beam. Your answer would be a single thought

‘My brothers must never learn of this.’

Her next thought?

‘Why is there a boy dressed like gender bent Catwoman and a girl in a ladybug onesie on a rooftop.’

‘I mean Dad dresses up like a bat. This family can’t judge.’

“Oh my god that’s Robin.” cat boy was pointing at her. Apparently, the Parisians knew about Batman and Robin. And if the cat’s hyperventilating was an indication, then Paris had plenty of fanboys too.

The lady in red wasted no time in grabbing her partner and pulling him out of the line of fire for this conversation.

‘she’s the brains of the operation then, but seriously where’s their mentor. These kids can’t be on their own right.’

“Explain to me what the significance of a bird is when we should be focusing on Gamer.” The cat seemed against the honestly refreshing change of pace. The girl reminded Marinette of Damian she even had his attitude, but the girls’ eyes were a sharp blue to his striking green.

“What do you mean significance?! Milady THAT’S ROBIN! Batman’s sidekick.”

“Hey! I’m no one’s side kick.” Marinette was ignored.

“Batman! As in the world greatest detective. That Batman!” ‘This cat can never meet dad.’

“They’re regular people who protect and entire city from supervillains M’lady. They do what we do. Without powers!”

‘Wait these kids are protecting an entire city’ Marinette.exe is buffering.

“Any who” time to bring the conversation back to the matter at hand “I was planning to check out the massive pyramid head attacking the city. Don’t suppose you could shed some light on the situation for me.”

“The last time Gamer was Akumatized his objective was to gain energy using his beam attack.”

“it’s actually called experience points M’lady”

“Akuma what now.”

The girl rolled her eyes “this time he seems determined to make us participate in some form of tournament. From what I see the only way we will get close enough to defeat him is if we answer his challenge.”

“Do you have a strategy beyond play along until there’s an opening.”

“M’lady and I will just wing it like we always do. Right M’ladybug”

Ms. Ladybug seem ready to run the cat through if it meant he would stop leaning on her.

“Gamer’s glasses are our objective.” Damian defiantly would have gutted this cat, this girl had far better restraint “you’ll need to give it to me to end the battle. My powers are necessary to end the battle”

‘Powers? Were these kids like her. How long had there been others like her?’

“So, Ladybug and Chat Noir ready to play, and it looks like a little birdie came to play, I calculated that there was a -” ‘Well, there goes any chance of a surprise attack.’

The pyramids captured Marinette before she could move, well unless she moved at super speed that is. With an unknown supervillain it would be best not to tip her hand yet. Most of Gotham still didn’t know the full extent of her abilities, but this wasn’t her turf and there were no shadows to hide her here.

Well here goes nothing

* * *

“So all the avatars in this game are previous bad guys you guys faced?”

“That is correct.”

“Cool. Who’s the owl guy?”

“I believe he’s a poor Batman imitation.”

“How poor is poor?”

“His gadgets are function, but he is constantly show boating.”

Marinette thoughts were filled with an image of Brucie as Batman. She’d have to make of brothers look for video of Dark Owl. Dad would never live it down.

‘What the hell.’ Thought Marinette as she selected Dark Owl as her character ‘let the games begin.’

* * *

With a win streak of three Marinette was feeling confident as she hit the cap of her new pen and became literally untouchable. This villain surprising didn’t have a terrible colour scheme, so Marinette’s inner design goddess was pacified, as she absolutely bashes the pastry Viking who continues to charge her.

This was the best video game ever

* * *

Marinette’s artistic side was giddy when provided with the Evilistrators Tablet. Was there a way to get the WE R&D on this?

* * *

Why is her opponent a GiAnT tOdLeR?!?!?!?!?

* * *

Santa Claws!! This magic terrorist had made Santa evil. Santa was real. Actually, scratch that last one, that was not the weirdest she’d ever been told.

* * *

“You got me, good game.”

‘Wait how messed up is Paris that the villains actually stick to their own rules. This feels too weird.’

* * *

Marinette felt as if she’d forgotten something, it was on the tip of her tongue.

Oh well couldn’t be that important.

Dick sneezed from his squished corner in the akuma shelter that was slowly, so slowly, emptying as people went back about their day as if their city hadn’t been under attack 10 minutes earlier

“Timmy?” asked Jason “how long does it take for a city to become collectively indifferent to terrorist attacks”

“How should I know?” Tim found he could breathe again now that the pressure had been removed off his lungs “the human brain takes three day to adjust itself to viewing the word upside down, and 28 days of conscious effort to break a habit. ”

Chapter Text

Following the greatest bust in Batclan history, the Waynes decided that they were overdue a holiday. Aka everyone ganged up on Bruce and convinced them the

A family holiday, no costumes, and no weapons. The boys did end up bringing ‘hidden’ weapons, but no one had gotten away with bringing any of their suits, so Bruce was calling that a win. Everyone except Marinette who did bring her suit. Because superspeed is great for making last minute additions to your suitcase without anyone realising that one of the display cases in the cave is now empty.

Dick had made a comment that seeing as the bust was only possible thanks to Marinette’s newfound crypted status that she should choose the location. Surprising no one argued this. I mean it’s not like they couldn’t afford it. Besides Brucie was long overdue to do something spontaneous. Gotham could last a week without them.

That is how the fashion challenged vigilantes ended up in Paris. One of the fashion capitals of the world. Marinette was in heaven. This was going to be the greatest family holiday ever.

No crime. No violence. All the fashion.

Ok Marinette wasn’t delusional there would be crime in the city of light, it should be significantly less than Gotham but there would still be some violence. It just wouldn’t be her family’s problem. That sounded crueller than intended. Marinette was just really looking forward to a relaxing week with her family and no super villains.

Unfortunately, there was one downside

Marinette and Damian still had to attend school for a week while they were in Paris. Apparently, Robin and Starling had taken too much time away from their schooling this term.

So, Bruce had temporarily enrolled then at a place called Françoise Dupont.

* * *

“Father, I fail to see what this so called school could possibly offer us.” Damian buttoned up his dress shirt “how does this Dupont plan to keep order when they don’t enforce any form of standardised attire”

Marinette walled in in light pink leggings, her cherry blossom t-shirt and a dark blazer. “I for one like the school uniform policy.” Mari admired her outfit in the hotel mirror until she caught sight of her brother “You’re not actually going to wear that right?” Marinette pointed an accusatory finger to the offending brother.

“The school requested casual attire.”

“They meant casual attire for teenagers.”

“And?”

Marinette ducks into the other room at super speed, while Damian would respect Marinette’s fashion sense, he didn’t appreciate her digging through his things without cleaning up first and cleaning at superspeed is better. Fight her. She ran back. “At least wear the jeans instead of the slacks.”

* * *

Damian wore the jeans. As if he’d really had a choice. Damian had discovered the best way not to be critiqued on his fashion sense was to let the literal fashion designer take over. With Today’s objectives in mid it was probably the better choice

Damian had grown up accustomed to the formal attire or training gear of the league. Casual was not a word that got thrown around in Nanda Parbat. On the few occasions Damian had been required such garments they had chosen for him before a mission. Damian was sure those disguises were made to mimic common garb while offering a greater range of movement and protection. These cumbersome pants were not as free moving as the ones he’d once worn on missions.

Enough thoughts of the trivial. Damian had an objective to complete.

First class of the day was with a Ms Bustier. Literature. It had been a while since Damian had read large passages in French, but he was confident nothing would be too difficult. Recalling his review of the syllabus from a few days earlier Damian decided this would be a decent start to the day ‘The brother’s Grim are always good for a cautionary tale. A Fairy tale would be a lovely way to start the day.’

Damian made his way quickly to his first class, noting briefly that his sister seemed intent on socializing and that father had already pulled out of the carpark leaving him to the figurative wolves.

The back of the classroom. A perfect vantage point from which to gage the competence of the class.

The first to enter the class was a red-haired boy. Bangs hid his eye’s clearly the boy wanted to remain unnoticed. If the way, he hunched over the books in his arms they contained something valuable to him. Assessment, bullied, artist – art form unknown but likely painting or drawing – threat level minimal to non-existent. He took a seat at the back of the classroom.

A girl with braids followed. She was of a broader build, similarly harmless if her stature was an indication.

The giant behind posed a greater threat. His hulking mass was imposing but his eyes were too soft, too open, too trusting. The target of his focus was braids girls. The boy was clearly lovestruck, he seamed the sappy type.

A blond drowned in pink so energetic and positive Damian felt as if he was at risk of a cavity rather than an attack.

The goth behind her was far more reserved and her darking tones were a welcome reprieve from the loud, flashy colours Paris seemed to favour. Again, the individual posed no risk.

Following the token goth girl was the stereotypical jock bantering with the bespectacled boy a dark skin. The jock at first seemed to hold a decent level of physical strength, but if the boy’s conversation were any louder Spaniards would be asking them to quiet down.

Others filled in pink haired skater girl, I’m-Important-look-at-me blonde and her lapdog red head.

Marinette walked in last talking to a girl who seemed to rival Grayson energy and a boy who also was as Jason who say ‘whipped’ for the bespectacled girl talking to his sister.  The boy had a pair of headphones around their neck, probably a music lover.

Most youths weren’t interested in the classical styles of music so it was unlikely that Damian would be able to ‘bond’ with him anymore then he would with anyone else in the class.

No one in the class seem as if they could possible overpower Damian or his family, so a potential friendship would not endanger the family. not physically at least

The sound of pencil of paper across the room confirmed Damian initial suspicions of the red head’s hobbies. A common intrest was said to be a good way to make friends.

Damian had decided that he was willing to expand his personal circle having a friend who lived an ocean away seemed a safe bet. It would be difficult for said friend to be leveraged for information or monetary compensation. Marinette had proven that having a friendship consisting entirely of written words and pictures was possible and did not leave room for questions about their night activities. Damian had never met this Clark, but he seen how Marinette’s eyes lit up when Alfred brought in one of the boy’s letters. He read a few of her responses the excitement she shared in talking freely to someone who reserved no judgement.

Damian wanted that.

He’d been living in Gotham for nearly 5 years now.

He knew that he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but he’d gotten better.

This holiday was Damian’s best chance to make a friend.

New start

No expectation.

What was it Grayson had said when Damian was starting at Gotham. Just be yourself?

Could it truly be that simple.

Only one way to find out.

Chapter Text

This day was not going well for Damian Wayne. Why you ask?

Because he sucked at friendship that’s why.

The morning assessment of his peers on day 1 didn’t yield the results he wanted. But that was fine Damian could after some reflection, admit that perhaps he had been too stringent with his requirements in a friend. After rewriting his list he dove headfirst into establishing the most promising candidates for friendship.

His lunch hour was spent approaching individuals one on one or in small groups. Damian had studied his sisters first interactions with strangers over the past 3 months to determine appropriate conversation starters. Clearly his sister’s methods work, the last time he turned to the internet for advice addressing his peers had resulted in a black eye, 2 torn blazers and a dislocated sholder. Don’t ask. Not like asking his brothers for advice was an option. Damian was not that desperate.

Unfortunately Damian’s attempts at starting conversations didn’t bear fruit. A few of the conversations were interesting but they didn’t lead anywhere.

Max had started an interesting conversation, but Damian found that the conversation to be too similar to conversations with Timothy.  Nathanial was extremely quiet and even Damian could see that the boy was uncomfortable with a stranger in his space. The only other person of interest was Nino, that conversation was shot with Damian preferring classical music where Nino preferred more contemporary work.  

Suffice it to say Damian had little success on day one. Day two had been an attempt to talk to some of the louder characters in the classroom and a second shot at talking to Nathaniel. Damian had a quick dive into modern pop music and decided that he’d rather focus his efforts elsewhere as it would appear that Damian’s distaste for the stuff was not a result of Richards poor taste.

Damian being the productive young man he was had, by the end of day three, talked to every member of his class and a few from the other classes.

And he had nothing to show for it. Less than nothing.

Suffice it to say Damian was looking forward to hitting someone with his sabre this afternoon. The fencing club in Gotham was considered renown,  Damian would consider them adequate, so Damian wasn’t hopeful for Parian team. Afterall they were defined as. Urge. Average.

Damian sighed as he removed his sabre from his bag. This session was unlikely to be stimulating but the physical exertion mediocre as it would likely be would still provide some distraction.

Damian walking out into the courtyard. This school did not have a gymnasium instead the group was the practice on mat that would be put away. The fact that the school didn’t have a dedicated area for sports made Damian feel even less confident in this fencing team.

This would be a long hour.

Damian took his place on a mat facing a classmate, Adrien. The Blond was Cute according to his sister. His discussions with the model had been interesting and Adrien’s training in classical piano made him a promising candidate until Damian realise how naive the boy was. If the boy had a little more common-sense Damian could perhaps see his opponent as a friend, at present Damian could admit that he was far too likely to snap at the boy if their conversations went for any prolonged length of time. Damian could begrudgingly admit that he would not be a good friend for Agreste.

Mr. D'Argencourt raises a hand, “En garde!”, Damian and his opponent ready themselves. “Prêt, allez.”

Adrien is fast but Damian is faster.

Damian wins the bout but is impressed. Adrien did better than expected and Damian tells Adrien as much. Adrien compliments Damian in turn and they ready themselves for the next round. In which Adrien lasts longer but ultimately loses. Damian’s respect rises Adrien had observed the previous fight and adapted a trait Damian fight uncommon among adolescents not connected to the Wayne family’s night activities.  Perhaps he’d been to rash in his assessment of the blond.

As Damian readies himself the room fall silent.

“Hey, you! Are you Mr. D'Argencourt, the fencing master?” A female in red walks up to Mr D'Argencourt. “I wanna join your team.”

Damian winces, feeling as though he is looking through a window into his past.

“Only the best are admitted here, you knave.” Damian kept his disagreement to himself; he had some restraint.

“And I was, everywhere I went.” Yes, this was far too familiar.

“Part le fer! This whippersnapper has nerve! All right! I may consider your admission; shall you defeat one of my students.” This was either going to be entertaining or embarrassing.

“Which one of you is the best combatant?!”

Damian watches as the fencing team shuffle about to bring Adrien into view. Adrien looks to his instructor “Actually Mr. D'Argencourt.” Curious. “Damian has already bested me twice this afternoon, if they really want a challenge I think Damian is better suited for the task.” Damian felt himself straighten. It wasn’t as if the team had watched Damian and Adr- Agreste’s bout. Adrien was clearly the undisputed champion of the club. Why was he admitting inferiority to Damian so easily. Damian was as Dick would say blue screening.

“This is the best combatant you have to offer?” with that Damin set aside his confusion. This girl was going down.

“It is a sign of arrogance to dismiss your opponent before the fight has ever begun.” The irony was not lost on him. “If you wish to lose then you have found a worthy opponent.” Damian allows himself to grow confident. This would be interesting.

***

Damian took his place on the mat, hooked up to the machine, analysis his opponent. Her stance speaks to experience. Damian find himself anticipating an interesting fight

“En garde!”

“Prêt,”

“allez!”

The pair fly. Damian haven’t face a worthy opponent with a blade in some time. Unfortunately none of his family were particularly gifted with a blade and the fight with Mother held an edge of tension that prevent Damian from truly enjoying a good match.

Damian block a lundge from his left before retaliating with his own attack. The fight has barley begung and Damian is already giddy. The adrenaline pumping through his vein in exhilarating. Win or loose he was asking for this girls number. He needed to stay in contact with someone how can match his skill. Damian notices the girl’s determination flaring.

If she wanted a fight, he’d give her a fight.

“BEEP”

Damian startles. He’d been so caught up in the back and forth he forgot the pair were evern attached to Machines. Dmian looks across to see his sabre touching the girls chest right above his opponents heart. His smirk is whipped away when a glace down shows a sabre resting against his side.

“Simultané” a tie.

Oh this just got interesting.

“Wait. I request that we do it the old-fashioned way. We'll be much more at ease without the machine”.

“Fine by me.” Damian practically purrs. Damian stands corrected. This is thrilling.

Damian readies his sabre. It’s lighter than his preferred katana but Damian no less proficient.

“allez!”

Damian lunges taking the initiative and pushing her back. She parries before returning the favour. The pair lock eachout into a violent dance of lunges and strikes neither willing to relinquish ground.

Neither notice when the ground is nolonger level as they move up the staire both fighters to focused to allow something as trivial impact their match.

Damian barely even registers his blade making contact when less then a moment before her had done the same.

Damian simply stares into the faceless mask of his opponent stunned.

Mr. D'Argencourt shakes Damina from his stupor “Who touched first? Tell us now!”

Damian turned to face his teacher, ready to admit a well-earned defeat when someone else spoke up “I think Damian- ” “Ah-ha, wonderful! This victory is an honor to D'Argencourt Academy” Damian felt his temper rising. He was simply visiting this school; he was a temporary member of this team. Even so his opponent had won a great victory and the instructor hadn’t even waited for a clear verdict.

“Actually I -”

“You were a worthy opponent” Damian turned suddenly to the girl in red. And stared dumbfounded for a moment while the girl walked off. He made to follow when he was swarmed by the audience.

“Remove yourself from my presence.” Damian pushed his way through the crowd his signature glare ineffective from beneath his mask. He pushed his way through the crowd and ran to the exit.

A red car pulled away from the curb. There was no one else in sight . you didn’t need to be a train detective to know where the girl was now, nor how a civilian, as Damian was currently shouldn’t be able to catch up with a vehicle at that speed.

“Damian!”

The Wayne scion turned the face the Agreste heir. “You fool. My opponent hit first, even an idiot cou-”

“I know.”

Adrien continued “I was trying to say, ‘ I think Damian was hit first’. Mr. D'Argencourt didn’t let me finish”.

Chapter Text

“So let me get this straight.”

Damian stares at his sister. This was a complete waste of time.

“You want me to distract not only our dad but also all three of our brothers.”

“Yes”

“And you want me to distract then so you can stalk someone from Du Pont.”

“No.” Damian’s upbringing stopped him from pulling out his hair, barely.  “I need to track down a girl from the fencing club so I can apologize. To ensure those buffoons I call brothers don’t aggravate the situation further I need you to keep them occupied.”

“Damian, you didn’t do anything wrong, it sounds like it was a simple miscommunication.”

“A simple miscommunication does not involve an opponent besting the highly train grandson of the demon only to be told that fell short and did not in fact excel in an art form she has clearly spent year cultivating.”

Marinette just sat there stunned. Staring as if Damian had suddenly grown a second head.

Damian decided to get this over with “Look,” eye contact is important Damian reminds himself, “I just need you to stop the family from realizing that I am not in fact participating in whatever bonding activity Grayson has planned. Trying to fool Alfred is a lost cause. I will inform Alfred of my plans before I leave, his advice will be useful.”

* * *

Marinette was very confused by the afternoon’s events. She agreed to help Damian because. Well…

Marinette wasn’t entirely sure why she said she’d help. Marinette didn’t really understand why Damian felt the need to go out of his way to inform someone that they were better than him.

Damian when he first arrived in Gotham would probably kill you for suggesting he even consider doing such a thing. Damian from a year later probably would have resorted to light stabbing. Damian a year ago who probably just have ignored you and walked away. As much as Marinette was proud of how far her brother had come, she still found herself confused.

Regardless, this clearly mattered to her youngest brother. If it mattered to him then it mattered to her. So as the amazing sister she was she was going to find a way to distract her brothers and the worlds greatest detective.

Marinette had until they made it back to the Hotel room to come up with a plan. A back up plan for when the first plan inevitably fails, and a cover story to explain Damian’s absence should Bruce/Dick notice or Tim/Jay decide that they are petty enough to point it out.

No pressure.

 * * *

The two youngest Waynes split on their way to the hotel at a corner store shortly after Marinette agreed to Damian’s request. Damian continued on hoping to catch Alfred while Marinette decided that she needed to arm herself for battle.

By the Time Marinette made it back to the room she could no longer hear Damian in the building. Much as the family likes their privacy, they are all aware that Marinette can hear, identify, track their heart beats and is likely to do so without really thinking about it. At one point Tim posed a competition, who could find the best way to mask their heartbeat – you never know what a villain is capable of – and hide from Marinette, in what became one of the most intense month-long game of hide and seek the manor had ever seen.

The extreme competitiveness is what Marinette is counting on for her plan to work.

First she needed a prize. Bragging rights while valuable weren’t good enough to have everyone so focused on winning that they wouldn’t realize Damian “I-am-the-superior-robin” Wayne wasn’t playing.

She needed an irresistible prize.

She needed something her brothers would be too busy fighting other to think straight.

 * * *

“I would like to declare a family wide competition” Marinette declared to a room full of her vigilante family members.

“Sweetheart.” Bruce started skeptically. Dick taking over for his father when seeing Bruce didn’t really know how to express how much of a bad idea it was to unleash the Wayne Family on Paris. A city that was in no way ready to deal with their brand of crazy.

“Cupcake it might be better if we wait till we are back in Gotham before we try that again.”

Jason just snorted “Yeah. Pix, we should probably leave Paris in one peice”

Tim sipped his coffee, “I don’t want to get banned from anymore cafés.”

Marinette just turned her back on her brothers to hide her grin. “Fine I guess Damian and I will just have to share the prize.”

The near silent noise of everyone’s back straightening told Marinette she had them all right where she wanted them. “After all I’m perfectly happy to eat Alfred’s cookies by myself”

The room descended into chaos as the Wayne men all begane demanding to know the necessary conditions to receive the nectar of the gods.

 * * *

“To be clear on the rules”

“Really Pix?”

“Yes really.” Marinette smoothed out the contract in front of her. “Everyone has written their name on their copy.”

A chorus of yes

“Good. Ok the contract states all the rules of this game. You may use google maps but no additional use of google or another search engine is permitted without permission from game master Marinette. For every use of the internet players shall receive a 5 minute penalty.”

A series of nods. The no internet rule was standard for competitions. It meant accusations of cheating were kept to a minimum. That minimum was not a low number Marinette expected at least a dozen complaints. But a dozen was less than 30 so she’d take it.

“Each player will text only the organizer Marinette for the duration of the game, no helping opponents allowed. This rule is to be disregarded in the case of an emergency.”

Had one of her brothers refused to call for backup against two face (the first and only time a family competition had allowed vigilante personas to participate) because they wanted the victory to be unquestionable. No her brothers were absolutely that ridiculous and it was unanimously agreed that.

“No vigilante name, tools, costumes or contacts may be use at any point in this competition unless there is an emergency.”

“Ok onto objectives.” Tim and Bruce looked extra attentive now. They would be looking for the smallest loophole they could exploit in order to win. “All contestants will receive a riddle, in the form of a text to a group chat. contestants will solve the riddle an arrive at the location then take a photo and send it to the group chat. At the location will be a small bag with 4 containers and a set of instructions inside. There is to be no tampering with the instructions.”

A group of adults and adult adjacent that should need that rule explained to them everybody.

“Each contest will take a container and use the object inside to complete the challenge. Photographic proof of the completed challenge will be sent to the game master. When a challenge has been complete by someone the game master shall send the next riddle to the group chat. First to finish each challenge will receive 4 points, second 3 points, third 2 points and last 1 point unless stated otherwise. The winner is the individual with the most points at 7 o’clock tonight. Any breach of this contract is met with a docking of 10 points.”

Agreements heard. Marinette continued

“Damian is disqualified on the count having inside information, having helped me set up this activity and shall receive two of Alfred’s cookies as payment.” Her brother had really grown and regardless of how today ended he deserved a cookie.

Now to get this show on the road

“You may all sign your contracts, the first riddle was sent 2 minutes ago. Let the wayne family Paris Amazing Race begin”