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Entry tags:
Fic: Three dimensions.
Title: Three dimensions.
Author: Munnin
Rating: PG-13
Characters: the band, Alfred.
Fandom: Band!AU
Continuity: Pre-Black Orchid. Refers to event in The Robins have left the building!
Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit and no offence meant. Everyone is of the age of consent in their country and period of history.
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
AN: for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
modestroad’s comment_fic prompt - DCU, Damian Wayne, the boy behind the myth
Damian sat on the floor, his back against the wall under the window. The fans had found their hotel and were camped out outside with placards and signs, swiftly forming a riotous mob. Tim and Steph were running recon on the roof while Dick and Jay tried to placate the crowd. Alfred was busy running interference with the hotel manager and negotiating having their equipment moved.
After what happened at the record store signing incident, Dick was careful about keeping them all safe. Gigs had security and crowd control; they could interact safely with the fans without fear of being mobbed but here...
And Dick made him promise to stay up in the room, to stay safe.
At first he’d been furious – Dick didn’t trust him, didn’t believed he could look after himself
But after an hour of waiting and Alfred reappearing to grab replacement shirts for Dick and Jay, Damian began to understand – Dick was worried for him and genuinely frightened for their safety.
The fans had a ideal of who the Robins were. They saw only the public face but that view was started to wear on Damian. The fan-sites he read (much against Tim and Steph’s advice) talked about him as a brat – cold, hard and proud. The fans saw Damian Wayne as the outsider amongst family, the pitiful boy lusting after the girl he could never have, the child.
He understood it was part of the act, another mask to protect their true identities but...
For the first time, people knew his really name and yet that name no longer truly meant him. The moody brat the fans knew was far from who he really was... anymore...
The fans knew nothing about the boy behind the stage clothes.
They knew nothing of his skills as an assassin, as a fighter, as a detective. They knew nothing of how efficient he’d been as Robin and how powerful he could be as Batman.
They knew nothing of his childhood, of his mother’s distain, his grandfather’s manipulation, and his fears of how his father would see him.
They knew nothing of the nightmares – his memories of losing Bruce, of close calls with Dick. His fear of failing them, of not being as good as his predecessors, of not living up to the name of Robin.
They knew nothing of how Dick and Tim never turned him from their bed, how they never joked about the nightmares or made a thing of it when he snuggled down between them.
They knew nothing about the long nights he spent watching his siblings, trying desperately to understand how they interact so easily, so naturally. Or how he longed to join in on the jokes without sounding sarcastic or bitter.
They knew nothing of how he lived for Alfred’s approval but feared to think of him as a father lest he dishonour Bruce’s memory.
They knew nothing of his love of comics, his amusement at how the outside world viewed the superhero community.
But now he could see the irony in that.
In the eyes of the fans he had become like a comic book character - two dimensional.
He closed his eyes and let the noise outside wash over him, consuming his world like a wave that would wash away his true self till there was nothing left but the boy on the stage.
Until a warm hand slid over his knee. “How ya doing little brother?” Dick asked, crouched in front of him. His touch was so comforting, so reassuring.
There was a graze on Dick’s cheek and Damian reached out to smooth a thumb over the broken skin, his brow furrowing with concern.
Dick shook his head and brought Damian’s hand to his lips. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.”
“I do worry.” Damian answered earnestly. “I want to help.”
“You are helping D,” Dick pulled him gently to his feet and into a hug. “Just by being you.”
Perhaps being the boy behind the myth wasn’t so bad after all.
Author: Munnin
Rating: PG-13
Characters: the band, Alfred.
Fandom: Band!AU
Continuity: Pre-Black Orchid. Refers to event in The Robins have left the building!
Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit and no offence meant. Everyone is of the age of consent in their country and period of history.
Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
AN: for
modestroad’s comment_fic prompt - DCU, Damian Wayne, the boy behind the mythDamian sat on the floor, his back against the wall under the window. The fans had found their hotel and were camped out outside with placards and signs, swiftly forming a riotous mob. Tim and Steph were running recon on the roof while Dick and Jay tried to placate the crowd. Alfred was busy running interference with the hotel manager and negotiating having their equipment moved.
After what happened at the record store signing incident, Dick was careful about keeping them all safe. Gigs had security and crowd control; they could interact safely with the fans without fear of being mobbed but here...
And Dick made him promise to stay up in the room, to stay safe.
At first he’d been furious – Dick didn’t trust him, didn’t believed he could look after himself
But after an hour of waiting and Alfred reappearing to grab replacement shirts for Dick and Jay, Damian began to understand – Dick was worried for him and genuinely frightened for their safety.
The fans had a ideal of who the Robins were. They saw only the public face but that view was started to wear on Damian. The fan-sites he read (much against Tim and Steph’s advice) talked about him as a brat – cold, hard and proud. The fans saw Damian Wayne as the outsider amongst family, the pitiful boy lusting after the girl he could never have, the child.
He understood it was part of the act, another mask to protect their true identities but...
For the first time, people knew his really name and yet that name no longer truly meant him. The moody brat the fans knew was far from who he really was... anymore...
The fans knew nothing about the boy behind the stage clothes.
They knew nothing of his skills as an assassin, as a fighter, as a detective. They knew nothing of how efficient he’d been as Robin and how powerful he could be as Batman.
They knew nothing of his childhood, of his mother’s distain, his grandfather’s manipulation, and his fears of how his father would see him.
They knew nothing of the nightmares – his memories of losing Bruce, of close calls with Dick. His fear of failing them, of not being as good as his predecessors, of not living up to the name of Robin.
They knew nothing of how Dick and Tim never turned him from their bed, how they never joked about the nightmares or made a thing of it when he snuggled down between them.
They knew nothing about the long nights he spent watching his siblings, trying desperately to understand how they interact so easily, so naturally. Or how he longed to join in on the jokes without sounding sarcastic or bitter.
They knew nothing of how he lived for Alfred’s approval but feared to think of him as a father lest he dishonour Bruce’s memory.
They knew nothing of his love of comics, his amusement at how the outside world viewed the superhero community.
But now he could see the irony in that.
In the eyes of the fans he had become like a comic book character - two dimensional.
He closed his eyes and let the noise outside wash over him, consuming his world like a wave that would wash away his true self till there was nothing left but the boy on the stage.
Until a warm hand slid over his knee. “How ya doing little brother?” Dick asked, crouched in front of him. His touch was so comforting, so reassuring.
There was a graze on Dick’s cheek and Damian reached out to smooth a thumb over the broken skin, his brow furrowing with concern.
Dick shook his head and brought Damian’s hand to his lips. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.”
“I do worry.” Damian answered earnestly. “I want to help.”
“You are helping D,” Dick pulled him gently to his feet and into a hug. “Just by being you.”
Perhaps being the boy behind the myth wasn’t so bad after all.
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Thanks babe, glad you liked it.