Bat-nanigans

[skybluejeep]

Characters: Batman and his next Robin Stiles. CLOSED.
Date: After the Late October Teen Wolf Invasion
Location: Roof of Stiles' suite.
Situation: Stiles has finally been told that his father was kidnapped - and then saved from - a certain baddy. As a result, he has a very public panic attack on the network.
Warnings/Rating: Spoilers for Teen Wolf season 3A. Bat-stalking. Daddy angst.

***

Stiles has a feeling that this time, being at the turtle head wouldn't help. He's beginning to suspect he spends way too much time up there anyway, wallowing in the peaceful vibes. Was it possible to become addicted to the inner peace a giant turtle can bring?

Better than Klonopin. Which was what Stiles was rocking today. Three full tabs. His head felt a little floaty, but he kinda needed it, thanks. It kept his heart from turning his chest cavity into a drum circle.

He's sitting on the roof of his suite, having climbed up there free-style. (How do you think he got on Scott's roof all the time? He was a house-climbing expert by now.) He's reeling from the triple whammy of the last few days. Lydia. His dad. And Derek telling him about Scott's Alpha status.

But the thing that's haunting him is his dad. Kidnapped by the Darach. Nearly sacrificed in her (her? the Darach is a her?) insane lust for power and revenge. His dad. Who he worked so hard to keep safe, to keep out of the supernatural bullshit that plagued Beacon Hills. And he's honestly furious with Scott and Isaac for not telling him sooner. He can't stay angry, of course. Not with Scott, and not really with Isaac anymore, either. But tonight, he's turned off his computer, called out sick from work, and is hiding. Sure, he can't hide from werewolf senses...but he can certainly try to grab some alone time.

Comments

[skybluejeep]

He sighs, because of course this is the way this conversation would go. Of course it was. After the day he's had, of course Batman is here to add another layer of suck to his already sucktastic life. What do you do when your hero condemns you?

Or at the very least is strongly hinting that he'll flatten your ass and throw you in Arkham?

Good thing there's no Arkham on the turtle.

"Yes, sir," he says dully, swallowing against the lump in his throat. Because he knew that if the only way to save his father from Jennifer Blake was to kill her? He'd do it. In a heartbeat. And he really, really hates that about himself. How is he any different than Peter, then? Or any other criminal? Jesus. Damn it. Batman's right. Fuck.

"Will you show me? I mean, I've asked a bunch of people, but nobody's taking me up on it so far. I don't know. Maybe they think it's hopeless, teaching a noodle like me to fight."

[cowled]

He's silent again, as if he's giving the matter some consideration. The truth is, his mind's already decided. It was decided the day he met the boy with Clark in tow. Stiles isn't Robin material, not exactly. But he has the heart. Skill can be learned, intelligence shaped and sculpted. Not Robin, no. But something they both can work with.

He makes a low noise in his throat, sort of a 'hm'. It would take nothing away from his current time or duties, to spare a few hours a day to train Stiles. Honestly, he's been missing it. That... sense, of being a teacher. Working with Kyle (and Damian) helps, but it's not enough by far. Bruce is at his best as a teacher.

"Nothing's ever hopeless, and if people look at you and think you are, they aren't looking hard enough." There's a very slight motion, and suddenly there's a card on the roof beside Stiles, pinned down by a batarang. "Come to this location in three days. Then we'll see."

[skybluejeep]

He blinks as the batarang lands in his roof with a little 'fwip!' noise, and then he grins. Grins. For the first time since he got the news about his dad, he grins up at Batman, looking like an eager child.

"Yeah? Oh, wow. Thanks. Thank you! Should I bring anything? Like, workout clothes or that dirk I found or anything?"

[cowled]

"Bring clothing you won't mind ruining," Bruce says, masking his amusement at Stiles' overt enthusiasm. "No weapons. Those have to be earned, in my arena."

[skybluejeep]

He tentatively reaches out, and pulls the batarang out of the tiled roof, pulling the card with it. And instantly memorizes the address given to him. Like hell he'd miss this appointment.

"Got it. I'll get some cheapy stuff. Um."

And then he holds up the bat-shaped accessory.

"...Can I keep this?"

[cowled]

But what's Batman without a dramatic exit? Bruce is gone from the roof, without so much as a whisper of sound to betray him. So, Stiles, feel free to consider that a 'yes'.

[skybluejeep]

"...Oh, goddamn it. Now I know how Commissioner Gordon feels."

He mumbles that under his voice, juuuuust in case Batman is still lurking about. After his fuck-up with Spock, he's being oh so very careful not to spill the beans on his new-found metaphysics.

He carefully turns the batarang over in his fingers, still feeling odd and floaty from the Klonopin. There's precious little light up here on the roof at night, but even still, the black metal glints a little bit in the moonlight. The edge of the thing is quite sharp. Heh. And these are non-lethal weapons? Yipes.

Oh, this is the coolest souvenir in his life. If only he could keep it if he ever went back to Beacon Hills...

About half an hour later, he climbs back down from the roof and heads inside, his fuzzy head still buzzing with deep thoughts and ideas. Even on his meds, Stiles' brain never really stops. Not really. It's part of what makes ADHD such a bitch to manage. But at least now he has some positive outlook again.