Damian Wayne
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Post by Damian Wayne on Feb 27, 2013 20:29:41 GMT -5
((Jan..... ... .. 25th OPEN THREAD GUYS...))
It was slow now, during the day. They were a family by night, and Damian found himself just waiting for the sun to fall, standing by the window with a goblet of milk as he wore one of his father's old robes. Cursive B.W in golden letters on the chest.
"Soon." he would mutter to himself. But that was only done when he was sure there was no other company in the house. Today? From what he was aware there were many bats and girls present in the vicinity. Alfred not among them. Where he was? Damian wasn't concerned, still a tad bitter that the butler had resorted to the punishment of slapping his forehead with a spoon when he let out distasteful words.
Swears.
Claimed they weren't suitable for a child his age, even with the argument that he was likely smarter than 99% of adults. Damian released a soft "TT" noise at the thought. So wherever Alfred was, Damian didn't care.
But he was bored. And hungry. So when he went stalking through the house the first person he stumbled upon was a particularly unfavorable blond accomplice of their precious Oracle. Shrew number one.
Stephanie.
Yes, unfavorable, but she'd proved sufficient for the trivial matters a few times. She was sprawled on the couch, and Damian was standing silently behind her, one hand on the arm of the sofa. It was unlikely she would have heard his approach. He stood over her for a long moment staring at her with a wrinkled nose before he finally announced himself with a slightly loud voice.
"Cookies" he demanded.
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Stephanie Brown "Batgirl"
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"Relax, Boy Virgin. You're not the guilty party. A couple of make-out sessions do not a baby make."
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Post by Stephanie Brown "Batgirl" on Feb 27, 2013 23:07:21 GMT -5
Stephanie had tried avoiding the manor, but it was the only place she could come to sleep. Home her mother was flying off the handle about her being out all the time at night, she had no brainpower left to spend on school, and she couldn't afford to rent out a hotel. Short of shacking up under a bridge, Wayne Manor was her last resort.
All the same, she'd made sure to throw some makeup on the dark circles, worn actual jeans, washed up, found a respectably uncomfortable successful person shirt.
Alfred had been strangely absent. She'd let herself in not wanting to bother him, but she was sure the smell of her brewing her own tea would bring him in to shoo her out. Maybe he was doing recon in the minivan.
All the same, she'd managed to bring the tea tray into one of the many sitting rooms in the house, pour herself a cup, and then promptly forget and drift in and out of sleep. Her leg was still hurting, of course, but the butler had hooked her up with some mean pain killers after forcing her to let him treat the cut, stitching her up and dressing it properly.
She was just on the edge of sleep again, curled on her side with a pillow stuffed under her head when there came the menacing declaration...
Cookies.
A long groan came out of her mouth, and she opened her eyes to find Damian lurking over her, looking ready to dive-bomb her. She frowned, closing her eyes. "Get Alfred to make you some. I'm sleeping, Damian."
She rolled onto her other side, burying her face in the couch cushions.
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Damian Wayne
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Post by Damian Wayne on Feb 27, 2013 23:13:59 GMT -5
Damian made that nearly trademark 'TT' noise when she tried to snub him off. Oho. Sleep. She would like that wouldn't she? Well because she wanted it, that was a good enough reason for him to make sure she didn't get it, and put her to some good use making him cookies! Women did that right?
"Keep pretending you don't know Alfred isn't here just like you're going to pretend you wouldn't be happy to calm us down shoving cookies in our mouths." he replied swiftly. Though we had blatantly been left without a description.
If that wouldn't convince her, then he sure as hell was going to try and guilt her. There were cookies at stake.
"Well you know... I've never really had a mom to bake me cookies before..." and then he heaved a dramatic sigh, casting an attempted subtle glance her way, as he look 'longingly' out a window. That's what people did when they were sad... right?
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Stephanie Brown "Batgirl"
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"Relax, Boy Virgin. You're not the guilty party. A couple of make-out sessions do not a baby make."
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Post by Stephanie Brown "Batgirl" on Feb 27, 2013 23:22:01 GMT -5
"Bull shit, don't even." She snorted, voice muffled from her face wedged between cushy soft dream lures. She wanted sleep, but she could recognize it wasn't happening now. He'd probably punch her leg again when she was asleep.
She sat up, eyes narrowing at Damian as she turned to glower. "We're making chocolate chip. I say we, because I am sure as hell not baking you cookies while you go upstairs and play with your My Little Ponies."
Standing up and throwing the pillow at his face, she trudged toward the kitchen, hunched and groggy. Surely Alfred had cook books - even he couldn't remember everything. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she entered the massive space, the granite counter-tops and stainless steel everything never failing to make her feel eerily as if Alfred was about to jump her. Seriously, he did not like people doing things for themselves. Maybe it was part of some childhood trauma?
She began opening cabinets at random, looking for the recipes.
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Damian Wayne
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Post by Damian Wayne on Feb 27, 2013 23:33:31 GMT -5
Bull shit. But it'd gotten her off the couch. He was about to grin in his triumph when the pillow smacked him in the face and muffled his glory. He threw the pillow down, but she was heading off with her snide comments before he could complain. So kicking the pillow-only bravely because Alfred wasn't present- he followed after her, a little more grumpy than intended.
"Cook books are in the top shelves." he pointed, "Over there." but despite telling her, he leaped up onto the counter himself, wildly grasping at the cupboard doors, wrenching them open and grabbing the first book with a red spine.
Then he turned, and tossed the large book towards the middle counter, "Here." he called, and meantime closed the cupboard doors, leaping down to the counter.
Bruce probably never entered the kitchen, so he highly doubted John ever would. Speaking of which, Damian had some opinion questions.
"Lately.. why is John such a..." he paused, glancing at the door, perhaps more wary of Alfred's return. "Dick." and then flat faced the pun as he sidled over to the counter, slightly to the side, perhaps to allow Stephanie to take charge of the cook book. A rare luxury, to let her take charge of something.
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Stephanie Brown "Batgirl"
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"Relax, Boy Virgin. You're not the guilty party. A couple of make-out sessions do not a baby make."
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Post by Stephanie Brown "Batgirl" on Feb 28, 2013 0:21:55 GMT -5
She snorted, but this time it was entertainment. Still, it was true. John was perpetually angry - as if he was the only one who had something to angst about. How many of them had lost parents? Bruce... he was like a dad to all of them - something she knew better than to point out in Damian's company. She always assumed that was a major reason Damian fought with Tim - he didn't like sharing the title of son.
"Well," she flipped the book open to the index, examining their choices. In the end, she went to the chocolate chips. "He's got a lot to step into. He can't decide if he should treat us like kids or crime fighters. We're all tense with all this going on." She gestured vaguely, still reading the ingredient list.
It was difficult, trying not to be negative about John's current situation. She was mad - he couldn't order them if he didn't want to step up as leader. But talking about her frustration with Damian... she wasn't sure exactly how to say 'He needs to man up and take your father's role'. What would the newest Robin even do, if John started trying to take up the Batman place?
"I need flour, sugar, butter, eggs, baking soda, vanilla extract, and find me chocolate." She ordered, going back to a cupboard she noticed contained bowls. "You're not... allergic to anything are you?"
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Damian Wayne
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Post by Damian Wayne on Feb 28, 2013 1:10:43 GMT -5
That was the answer she was supposed to say. And he knew it. What a good little soldier he was. But still, he said nothing, and accepted her lame, half ass'd answer. He didn't really want to hear about her problems and concerns in the end, so why push for it?
"'Kay." he took the order well enough and headed off to grab some of the ingredients that were closest. A wrinkled bag of chocolate chips was secured, along with sugar and flour. He was now off to the fridge when she asked if he had allergies.
"Only to absurd girls and idiots." he said without turning to look with her. Then grabbed the eggs, turning around as he opened them. He closed the door, and as a result of being rather careless two eggs managed to fall and crack on the floor.
He wordlessly looked down at them, and without moving his head, eyes shifted back up to Stephanie. He didn't look ashamed, or even amused. Merely wore an unconcerned look and requested one thing.
"Alfred can't know."
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Stephanie Brown "Batgirl"
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"Relax, Boy Virgin. You're not the guilty party. A couple of make-out sessions do not a baby make."
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Post by Stephanie Brown "Batgirl" on Feb 28, 2013 12:42:09 GMT -5
Her eyes went to the gewy evidence, keeping her face a serious plane of motionlessness. "He can never know." She agreed, then went back to the book with her pot. Once the ingredients were supplied she'd start blending them, mixing up the dry stuff with a rubber spatula. "It must be tricky, being allergic to yourself, like do you have to take medication or your face swells up? Or is it like, you get a butt rash and Alfred has to smear cream on you?"
She went over to the oven then paused, staring at the massive board of electronics she squinted at the range of different abbreviated words, looking for a temperature control, preheat button, anything. Why did Alfred even need this many buttons? Giving up she went in search of a cookie sheet, hoping to find a cloth to mop up the egg along the way. "Also, do you speak robot?"
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Damian Wayne
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Post by Damian Wayne on Feb 28, 2013 12:45:37 GMT -5
Damian's eyes narrowed as she retorted an insult in return. Or what she would call an insult. It was hardly adequate enough to be offensive. But still, it had manage to annoy the Boy Wonder, and that was apparently enough to make him do something about it.
He said nothing, as he took an egg, tossing it into the air and catching it in his palm, testing the weight and assessing the situation. He watched her carefully, tactically, until she unsuspectingly inquired of his knowledge of the modern robot tongue.
And then he chucked the egg at her back.
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Stephanie Brown "Batgirl"
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"Relax, Boy Virgin. You're not the guilty party. A couple of make-out sessions do not a baby make."
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Post by Stephanie Brown "Batgirl" on Feb 28, 2013 12:54:01 GMT -5
She bent down to check a bottom drawer, her back was turned and vulnerable.
The egg crashed against the back of her head, skull demolishing shell with impressive capability. She froze as the innards splayed out, then the viscous material began a slow crawl down her neck. Silence, and deep silence, as she processed what had occurred.
Then she stood, wearing a complete poker face as she turned and walked back to the bowl, cookie sheet in hand. She picked up the bowl, never looking at Damian until she burst into a run at him, lifted the bowl above his head, and dumped the powder bomb all over the child.
All she wanted was a nap. The pain in her leg was worth this, though.
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Damian Wayne
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Post by Damian Wayne on Feb 28, 2013 13:35:06 GMT -5
He pressed his lips together, eyes wide by brow furrowed as he watched her in her silence. It was unnerving, and for a split moment Damian knew was fear was; though he'd never admit it, or let it show. And then she sprinted at him. He tried to avoid it, but she'd gotten the head start and before he could get more than an indecipherable cry of protest from his lips, Damian was covered in flour.
Before the powder could even settle, he lunged for her abdomen, tackling her and further spreading the powder. The pack of eggs had dropped, successfully crushing on the ground, but he'd had one in hand, that he crushed on her shoulder- as if it really made a difference at this point. It was the principle.
With any luck, the tackle would take them both to the kitchen floor, a completely white and dusting Damian on top. In any case, one hand seemed to be madly reaching to the counter for whatever his hand could find first.
"I should have known you'd cheat, Brown!" he growled angrily. As if there were rules to this war. The shrew was always hiding and using smoke pellets and hazes, as if it could really compensate and make her a better stealth fighter!
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Stephanie Brown "Batgirl"
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"Relax, Boy Virgin. You're not the guilty party. A couple of make-out sessions do not a baby make."
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Post by Stephanie Brown "Batgirl" on Feb 28, 2013 17:35:37 GMT -5
A moment of undiluted satisfaction. She had the little brat.
And then she was falling, falling onto the ground in a violent white haze. Damian landed on top of her as she slammed against the tile, groaning. Then he splatted an egg on her shoulder.
Just once. Just once she wanted to have a conversation with Damian that didn't result in a war. Even after the Cokeballs, he'd tried to take the wheel when she refused to stop at the pet store.
That little shit.
"And I should have known better than to try and make you nice things, Wayne!" She hollered back, scooping up a handful of smashed egg guts and shell and throwing it into his face, hopefully to splash some into his big loud mouth. For added effect, she threw flour with the other hand.
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Damian Wayne
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Don't patronize me. I'll break your face.
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Post by Damian Wayne on Feb 28, 2013 17:47:11 GMT -5
He cried out angrily, and blocked his face, avoiding an extra mouth full of powder, but quickly spat up the egg; wherever it would land.
"You can't have nice things Brown!" he protested, "It's one of the perks of being a peasant!" and with that, Damian leaped off Stephanie and bolted for the fridge, sliding in his socks to a stop.
Wrenching the fridge open, he grabbed the open carton of milk and clutched it with two hands, a maniacally angry look in his eyes that would scare perhaps even the Joker. Regardless that his weapon of choice was a dairy product. Who knows. Maybe he was lactose intolerant.
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Stephanie Brown "Batgirl"
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"Relax, Boy Virgin. You're not the guilty party. A couple of make-out sessions do not a baby make."
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Post by Stephanie Brown "Batgirl" on Feb 28, 2013 17:57:53 GMT -5
She let out a cackling laugh as he got egg splattered into his mouth. Then let out an unearthly shriek as egg came splattering back into her eyes. "DEMON!"
Blinded, she had no way of grabbing him as he disappeared from atop her. She sat up, gripping her eyes and streaming off threats as she tried to get her sight back. "I'm going to shave your cat, and then I'm going to paint your costume neon pink and-"
The threat was cut short by the realization of what had happened to her adult-person shirt. With her stinging eyes cleared, she could see the mixture of egg and flour ground and soaked into the red drapey top.
"DAMIAN FUCKING WAYNE!" She roared, staggering to her feet and grabbing the first thing nearby - the bag of sugar - and tearing it open with a Hulk worthy bellow she threw the sugary mess toward the boy, and then the bowl, and then the spatula. She kept tossing every thing she could find - spoons, measuring cups, even the cookbook.
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Damian Wayne
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Post by Damian Wayne on Feb 28, 2013 18:04:22 GMT -5
He'd done a successful job avoiding her throws, putting his top training and his Robin experience to work to strategically leap out of the way of the flying objects. Well, the spatula had bounced off his head on the rubber side, but he reached out and caught the cook book with surprising accuracy.
Now he was using it at a shield, deflecting a few of the measuring cups.
"Who spat in your cookie mix..." he grumbled, more to himself, as he took small wary steps towards her. The carton of milk was still in hand, and when he finally got a reasonable distance, he released a battle cry, jumped upwards to avoid another flying object, and trusted the open side of the milk carton at her.
"YOU SUMMONED THE WORST, BROWN. NOW YOU PAY!" he bellowed. "NO ONE TOUCHES MY CAT WITH ILL INTENTIONS! YOU DELIRIOUS PSYCHO!"
Thank god Alfred wasn't here.
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