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1. Bar
He tucked his wings closer as he finished wiping down the bar. It had been surprisingly easy to get his hands on a charm that hid them. He’d dealt with enough Isu bullshit that magic bullshit and some kind of dimension travel was the least of his worries. Least the damn wings had stopped looking metallic and settled into a sleek assassin’s black a few days after he'd woken up in the now-even-more-ruined Grand Temple.
And damn if that wasn’t weird in and of itself. The Precursors built to last but even they were subject to time. The Temple he’d started in was definitely way younger than the one he ended in, so whatever had killed them in this dimension probably happened on a different timeline too.
There were no Templars in this world at least either...well, probably. He'd hit the internet not long after he'd gotten it together enough to figure things out and there didn't seem to be.
Definitely no Abstergo, few companies that had the same warning flags though (which boded keeping an eye on) but it also seemed they had their own heroes to contend with.
No Brotherhood either but apparently there was a League of Assassins? Which...what was it with this dimension and Leagues? Eh. He'd deal with it, or maybe just drop a tip and let the multicolored crew of superheroes this world apparently had deal with it if it ever became an issue.
He was enjoying his retirement, thank you very much.
Desmond looked up as the bell on the door chimed, eyes habitually flickering gold for a half second before he grinned.
“Hey hot stuff, looking for a drink?" He shot at the man walking in the door despite the early hours.
Green eyes curled as broad shoulders slid past the wooden door, bell chiming again as it closed.
“Hell yeah. And got any more of those garlic knots lying around?"
Okay so maybe he’d taken advantage of his suddenly copious free time and put the memories rattling around his skull to use after he'd nearly hit a hard Bleed and the ancestor in question had settled right the fuck down when faced with surprisingly authentic pasta.
His fucked up brain liked cooking apparently, sue him.
“Just out of the oven" Jason knew that though. This had become a bit of routine any time he made them, granted without schedule.
He never asked how exactly the taller man kept track but he didn't need to either.
Between the whole helmet thing Desmond knew (but also didn't know) about and Jason's general involvement in Crime Alley he was way too busy taking care of everybody to take care of himself.
If he wanted to come for cold beer and hot garlic knots Desmond sure as hell wasn't going to stop him.
Tall, dark and sexy plopped himself on a barstool as Desmond obligingly went to get plates. Wings automatically flaring under the illusion to steady him as he reached under the counter in the kitchen to grab a couple in one hand and the knots in the other, shouldering the door open on the way out.
Desmond dropped off the plates on one of the bar mats in front of Jason for him to start on while he grabbed two beers from the fridge. He opened them with an easy, practiced motion, passing one over to his friend before reaching for a garlic knot himself just as the other finished his first.
“Fuck man, these are absolutely insane. Where’d you even learn how to cook like this?” he groaned as he took a swing of his beer and bit into a second.
Laughing, Desmond settled into the seat next to him, if Jason felt the slight displacement of air his wings caused he didn't say anything, “Told you, old family recipe. Had to adjust it a bit for modern utilities but I think I’m winning. Kinda wanna try mixing stuff into the dough and see what happens.”
Jason turned a bit to face him better, “Fucking magic probably. If you need a taste tester hit me up man.” And oooh, he had really pretty green eyes, that right there was going in his newly developing favorite colors category.
“I'll take you up on that.”
And he did. All the way from now, to when friendship bled into romance and then beyond into a lifetime.
2. Kidnapped
Most people startled awake, Desmond just opened his eyes.
He sighed.
Gold eyes flicked across the room he was tied up in. Some kind of warehouse, probably the illegal kind and with plenty of red figures walking around. He tugged at where his hands were tied behind the back of the chair. Handcuffs.
"Well, well, well, look who's awake." It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before a horrid nasally voice called as a door to his side slammed open. Coincidence or surveillance? "Seems sleeping beauty decided to grace us with his presence."
The men around him jeered in response. Desmond looked over them, making note of the symbol haphazardly stitched into their clothes. He didn't recognize it from the habitual memorization of various groups that ran in his blood. They didn't seem to match any of the one's Jason had complained to him about either.
Newcomers then, ones biting off far more than they could chew at that.
"You must be wondering be wondering why we brought you here." The head idiot began and then proceeded to not shut up for probably nearly an hour. Holy shit, he'd thought Jason was over exaggerating. What kind of nut job spells out every fucking detail of his plan?
"...so you see we captured you to lure in the Red Hood and..."
It wasn't even a good plan. And they were definitely under the impression he was just a run of the mill bartender and also that they would live through this.
Jason was going to be fucking furious. There was no way they were getting out of this alive.
Silence suddenly rang in the room before Desmond realized he was expected to respond.
"Uh, that's nice?" Yeah no, he'd stopped paying attention ten minutes in.
The scraggly man in front of him twitched and grit his teeth. "Never mind, you'll see!" He declared and spun on his heel, storming off. Okay then.
"Watch the door." Came the muffled call as he was locked in again. Not that it would do them any good. “We wouldn't want to damage the goods before its time.”
Oh, great. They were talking about him like a piece of meat. And, granted, not a first. And since it seemed they were going to kill him one way or another to get at his friend who-maybe-wasn't-quite-a-friend, that meant he was going to have to head out the hard way instead of just good old fashioned stealth.
Wonderful. So much for easy retirement.
His wings spasmed with a cramp. Whatever bullshit magic kept them unnoticed definitely wasn't helpful to keeping them from being contorted behind him. Yeah that's enough of that. He adjusted himself and slipped his feet under him to crouch on the chair and then straightened to stand, neatly slipping his arms up from behind the armless chair. Amateurs. They hadn't even tied his legs down. As kidnappings went this was down right pleasant.
Black wings bled to Isu gold, circuits running up and down them as he stretched his wings. Oh yeah, way better. From there it really wasn't hard to slip the metal cuffs under a razor sharp feather. It cut through it like butter.
Desmond yawned and rolled his shoulders, bones cracking back into place as his eyes flicked from place to place, cataloging the building layout and enemy count properly. No cameras in here, must have been luck then. Oh well, better get to work.
He wanted to be back in time for dinner.
3. Bleed
It had started as a quiet night and descended into violence pretty quickly. Jason had been teetering on the edge of an episode all day and when Desmond lashed out in the middle of one hell of a Bleed, the level of which he hadn't had in months, it had spiraled out of control.
Needless to say, they'd beaten the crap out of each other. The two men lay sprawled on the roof of one of the buildings they ended up on in their madness induced brawl and crazed run across the Gotham skyline.
Desmond groaned as he stretched out the last of his Bleed on the cement of one of the taller skyscrapers in the area. "Well, that's one way to get your steps in"
“Among other things'' Jason wheezed. He'd gotten a few solid blows to his chest and the Pit driven adrenaline was starting to wear off. He shifted trying to assess the damage, not great but could be functional if needed. Right now though? Naw. "So, are we gonna like, talk about it?
“Uuugh,” Desmond grumbled. Altair still barely rattling at the edge of his consciousness. ”Bleeding effect. Hard to remember who I'm supposed to be right now. You?”
“Pit madness. Evil green puddle that takes over sometimes.”
“Huh”
Both were quiet for a moment except for the sound of their breathing. Just listening to the sounds of Gotham at night.
“You wanna get dinner?”
Desmond closed his eyes and sighed into the feather littered cement. ”Yeah. I'll cook.”
4. Literature
“Okay, okay.", Desmond watched Jason reach into the shelf and pull out Mill on the Floss. "George Eliot."
"Too easy. ‘He’ was actually a woman named Mary Ann Evans who published under a male pen name." Desmond grinned, "Next!"
They’d been at it for a couple hours now. Jason pulled out one of his many books, called out the author and Desmond would have to give a historical fact about it. It was a nice way to sort through some of the more harmless knowledge floating around his head and just spend time together.
In a rare instance they were in Jason’s apartment, having come to grab something and ended up stuck by the storm that struck a few minutes later.
Desmond sat forward to give his wings some space as Jason’s fingers lightly traced over titles. He grabbed one from what looked like a set.
“Okay how about Arthur Conan Doyle? And not just something easy this time." He wagged a Sherlock Holmes book at him, grinning as he leaned back on the wooden shelves that lined the entire wall.
The absolute geek had pretty much exclusively hard covers, many of which were decades old. Apparently being a Crime Lord paid pretty well.
Wings flit, illusion long gone as he concentrated on sorting through ancestors to find one in that era and then one that had met him. It clicked into place a moment later. Well now, that was definitely interesting.
“He was friends with Harry Houdini but it ended not long after Houdini found out that Doyle thought he could do real magic.”
Jason whistles, “Damn. Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Desmond confirmed. “Alright one more, make it a good one”
Jason scanned his shelves, eyes catching one on an old spine. "How about this one?" he asked, pulling out a dark gray book with orange lettering.
Desmond's eyes softened. “Hans Christian Anderson,” he said, sharp eyes easily making out the name on the front cover. “One of the most well known queer authors even if it's a little known fact. The Little Mermaid was a love letter to his closest friend Edvard Collin. He wrote a whole bunch of letters and poems to him throughout their lives, many of which declared his deep romantic feelings for Collin."
Desmond's wings folded tighter for a second before relaxing. "Didn't work out but he did end up writing the Little Mermaid the same year his friend got engaged to a woman.”
“That's a good one."
“Yeah" he sighed happily into Jason's side as he settled next to him on the couch, head tucked into his boyfriend's shoulder as he cracked open the book and started to read out loud.
5. Feathers
He was goo. Just like, one with the abominably large blanket pile they'd dumped in the living room. A melted pile of limbs and feathers called Desmond.
Blunt fingernails scraped loose a few more feathers and smoothed the rest of that section into order.
Desmond groaned.
Screw massages, this, this is where it's at. And oooooh. That's the spot. The fluffy, if itchy, loose down feathers where the wings were attached to his back being scritched loose was heavenly.
Jason switching to the other wing sent a long, delicious trail of goosebumps running up and down his spine.
Probably the best thing about the whole wing affair and then gaining a boyfriend was the preening. Where the hell Jason had learned how to do this he didn't have the mental capacity to think too hard about right now but fuck if it didn't feel incredible.
Warm breath laughed in his ear. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Nnngg"
Jason sat back with a warmth that had become more and more frequent lately. Finishing up he flopped next to him on the blanket pile. Desmond gave his wings a good stretch and let them fluff before letting Jason tug him into sprawling loose limbed against him, wing closest to him half folded so he could hold him while the other lay spread over them. He sighed happily as he tucked himself into his boyfriend's shoulder.
Oh yeah, so worth the wing hassle. Desmond yawned and snuggled closer.
"I love you" he murmured as he drifted. He wasn't awake enough to see Jason freeze for half a second before he looked down at the sleepy man in his arms with something between wonder and surprise before it melted into fondness but he was awake enough to feel the kiss on his brow and the hold on him tighten.
"I love you too."
+1. Christmas
“Wait, seriously? Never?” Jason asked incredulously as he stared at his gorgeous boyfriend.
“Never.” Desmond shrugged, “I just never really saw the point after I left and it definitely wasn't a thing growing up. Least not for me.” Oh he bet, and if he ever got his hands on the mean, abusive fucker responsible for it he’d show him exactly what he thought about it.
“Closest I ever came was when I was on the streets I think,” he considered as he tilted his head in thought. Wings that Jason had got really fucking good at reading confirming as much. “People are always a bit more generous that time of year.”
Well fuck. Even Jason in all his wonderfully messed up childhood stories had that at least. It was one of the few times a year his mother had tried to be functional enough to actually do anything (with varying success) and in the Wayne household it’d been a specular affair.
Even if the mandatory Chrismass parties sucked ass Bruce spoiled all his strays rotten with everything they could possibly dream of. As a kid he'd absolutely loved, now he tried not to think about it too much.
Desmond flipped over onto his stomach from where he’d splayed himself across the bed. Wings shaking themselves out before settling into a loose tuck. "This is really bothering you, huh?"
“Well duh, it's Christmas, '' he emphasized as he plopped himself on the long box bench thing, Ottoman? Whatever, Desmond had insisted on, functional decoration or some shit.
He just wanted more places to hide weapons and didn't wanna admit it. That was fine, he loved him enough to let him get away with it and if he'd tucked some of his own away, well. That was just being a supportive partner.
“That's it" Jason declared "We're holding the biggest and probably most potentially lethal Christmas in the history of Gotham”
Des snickered "Oh yeah? That's a high bar."
“Hell yeah” he grinned as he moved himself onto the bed where he manhandled his lovely feathered boyfriend into his arms.
Desmond yelped.
“Jason!”
He didn't know who started laughing but within a few seconds they were both howling with it. Sides aching and sickeningly happy.
Yeah. They'd have gifts and a tree (that would inevitably be decorated by weaponry of some kind) and way too much fancy hot chocolate. It'd be great and more than that, even if both of them preferred the moon to the sun, they'd have each other.
The dark wasn’t something to be scared of when you had someone to share it with.
And as their snickering died down into a warm companionship, Jason couldn't help but think that was worth more than any amount of gaudy Christmas baubles.