Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the situations the characters find themselves in. Thanks so much for continuing to read and for giving me feedback on my work. It's muchly appreciated and I do read every review you send me!

Note: So the novelty shirt mentioned in this chapter is one I saw this past week. Unfortunately I was at work, and therefore could not make the comments I wanted to about it.

Art is a Way

"Art is a way of freezing time, or extending time...it's another way to bridge the gaps between us." Sarah Ruhl

It came as no surprise to Bane that by the end of their shared meal-if you could call what Robin was willing to eat a meal, which Bane wouldn't-that Robin was no closer to accepting the fact that they were unavoidable than he'd been the night before. And while it would be easier, and considerably less work for Bane to just demand that Robin give him another chance in exchange for the favor he'd asked of him, that was a card Bane was holding reserve for the time being. He'd much rather wear the cop down when it came to their relationship so that the 'favor' could be called in for something of more equal value. He would also not let Robin be able to say later that he'd coerced or forced him into this.

Manipulate, yes. Force, no.

Partway through the meal Bane had texted Barsad to find out if the other man was indeed still in the building as Robin believed, which he was. A fact that irrationally irritated Bane to an equally frustrating degree, though he refused to acknowledge that outloud. Or when Robin just happened to mention it later to irk him. Instead Bane ordered Barsad to call for one of their cars to pick them both up in twenty minutes, as that would give them both time to finish eating.

Naturally when the time came to leave for the day Robin insisted on accompanying him out despite his injuries. Laughably Robin insisted that it was just good manners, but Bane knew it was more than that. Most likely Robin intended to check on his cousin to reassure himself that the boy was fine, which was insulting to Barsad and Bane himself, in a way. Ergo Bane was offended on his second's behalf and ordered Robin to stay inside to rest and elevate his leg.

Robin, being Robin, just gave him a look and then hopped over to retrieve his crutches anyway as soon as Bane's back was turned. And since Robin was making no effort to be quiet Bane didn't even have to turn around to see or hear him do it.

"You need to heal. Sit back down."

"Nooooope. I need to see you out and have the 'Older Cousin Talk Part One' with your sexy sidekick."

Rather than give Robin the satisfaction of reacting to the sidekick comment-or the sexy one-Bane focused on the whole Part One thing, asking what Robin meant by that as he turned to look in the miscreant's direction as the other man got the crutches in place under his arms.

"I've found that most of his boyfriends don't last long enough to need the majority of my speech, so I broke it up into three parts. I haven't had to use the third part yet."

Bane smirked a little. "He's as contrary as you."

Robin shook his head as he crutched over to the front door where Bane was standing, reluctantly waiting for him. "Oh, no. We lose our boyfriends for drastically different reasons. Sorta." Robin took a moment to reconsider, his brows furrowing adorably. "I guess you could say-okay, we have some similar bad habits, but for very different reasons."

Curious, Bane asked what he meant by shared bad habits.

"I'm a workaholic, he's obsessed with his music. We cancel a lot of dates. And piss off a lot of boyfriends."

"Is that it?"

"No. We're both spoiled brats too."

Well at least Robin was aware he was a brat. Unfortunately he didn't seem inclined to change that flaw in his character though, and the prospect of trying to reform him was depressing. Bane wasn't sure that even he was up to that task.

Exiting the loft Bane held the door open so that Robin could get by him first since the man was being stubborn about accompanying him. Then he closed the door behind them and together they headed for the main hallway, Robin's crutches echoing on the tile.

The tiles also echoed the sound of additional footsteps, Bane turning his head in that direction since he didn't recognize the stride as Barsad's. And then he just stared, his braining trying and utterly failing to process what he was seeing.

It was Barsad walking towards him. That's what Bane's eyes were telling him. A Barsad unlike he'd ever seen. This was a Barsad who was walking towards him with all the stealth and grace of a newborn colt. One with visible bruising on his neck, collarbone and chest...which was more on display than it should be due to two buttons missing from his dress shirt.

Only the 'don't ask' look his second in command was aiming in Bane's direction was familiar and remotely comforting.

What the Hell?

Gaze slowly flickering over to the boy who'd followed Barsad out into the hallway Bane noticed that Robin's little cousin looked perfectly put together and almost angelic, the way he was smiling so sweetly and serenely.

Again. What. The. HELL?!

"Hi, Blake." The boy even waved at them. "You can give him Part Two of the speech. I'm definitely going to keep him around that long. I love his beard."

Was Barsad...blushing? Oh Hell no.

"Will do." Robin assured him with a salute.

"Good." Another smile and then the boy, Simon, was wrapping arms around Barsad's waist for a brief hug from behind, a nip to Barsad's right ear, and something whispered in that ear that had Bane's second sucking in a harsh breath, pupils noticeably dilating.

Then just that easily Simon let go and literally pranced back the way he'd come, Barsad turning around and watching him go until the boy disappeared back into his place, leaving the three of them alone in the hallway.

Only then did Barsad turn around, the former mercenary and sniper visibly dazed.

"Impressive. I haven't had to give the second part of the speech in a while. I was right about you."

Robin's tone made it clear he was referring to Barsad's prowess in the bedroom, though the way Barsad had been moving told another story. One Bane would have preferred never to have 'read'.

The death glare Barsad aimed in Robin's direction was entirely earned. Even if it was a weak version of Barsad's normal venomous glare.

"So obviously he's the baby in our family and we will all make it our goal in life to make you suffer if you hurt him. Physically or otherwise. He might seem like he's not in touch with his emotions unless its music related, but he does have them. Any attempts to use him for your personal gain will really, really not end well for you. I'd go into the very long winded and creative speech we have about what various wrongs will earn you on the pain scale...but you're a former merc. I'll save my breath."

Barsad's 'Thanks.' was so sarcastic it was Robin level sarcastic. Bane hadn't known his second could sound that sarcastic.

Naturally Robin just looked entertained before going back into serious speech mode.

"So the big other thing is that you've no doubt done your research on my family because Bane ordered you to, so you know that Simon is on the autistic spectrum. He was originally diagnosed as having Asperger syndrome, but these days they're just saying he's autistic. If you haven't done deep research-well even if you have its worthless. No two people on the scale are the same. You have to learn as you go. But giving you some heads up, in Simon's case it pretty much means he always sucks when it comes to non-verbal communication and social interactions. He does NOT get sarcasm. He also does not like being touched unless he's in control of how and where you're touching him...which I'm guessing you learned last night. Music is his primary obsession. If you want or need something from him, tell him. He doesn't pick up on emotional cues so if he pisses off or hurts you, you need to tell him that. He can be bribed with new musical instruments, sheet music, and concert tickets. Though good luck finding stuff that interests him that he doesn't have already. He's the baby, we ALL spoil him."

Robin paused to consider. "That should do for now. Any questions?"

"How is he still alive?"

"He's our baby." Was Robin's smirking reply. Though there was something feral in his eyes that told another story. A story where Robin would dispatch anyone who hurt someone he considered his. Without remorse or hesitation.

"Understood. All of it."

"Good. Now you boys have a nice day and play nice. Barsad, maybe I'll see you tonight."

A cocky little wave and finger wiggle, then Robin fit his crutches back into place and started crutching back towards his own door, Bane joining Barsad in watching him leave as well.

"They might not be related by blood, but in terms of the trouble they cause..."

Bane nodded in agreement, then stated they should head out.

Which they did, Bane wincing right along with Barsad when the other man had to bend his body to take his seat. Though for entirely different reasons.

Seriously. How?

)

A Week Later

Enjoying the feel of sun on his face and just enough breeze to make that sun comfortable Blake walked the crowded streets with his fellow Gothamites, the streets crowded with office workers hurrying back to work after their lunch breaks. He'd done the same, walking the couple of blocks to his favorite sandwich place since the weather was so good. Now, with belly comfortably full and his spirits definitely improved by the excellent weather Blake felt ready to go back to the drudgery of paperwork that awaited him since he was still on desk duty. Stupid injuries.

But he'd been given permission-finally-to ditch the crutches, and he didn't have to wear a sling unless he needed it. Or someone told him too, since apparently no one in his unit or family thought him capable of knowing when he'd reached his limit.

It's like they knew him or something.

Bane should take notes from them, he thought with a dark smirk. Or at least from Barsad, who had way more game than Bane did, it seemed. Case in point, Barsad was actually living with Simon currently.

After the two's third night together-in a friggin row-Barsad had announced that Simon was clearly the easiest way to get to the Blake family and needed constant adult supervision not just during the day, but at night as well. But none of them had expected Barsad to follow that statement by ordering/informing Simon that he was moving in with him until Roman was caught for his protection. Simon, being Simon, had just shrugged and gone along with it since apparently the former mercenary wasn't just amazing in bed, he could cook, too. And wasn't that just lovely?

And making Blake unreasonably green with envy, dammit.

Oh well. He was almost back at the station and hopefully when he got there he could-

Train of thought snapping like a twig underfoot, Blake's focus narrowed and sharpened like a scalpel as he took in the sight of two familiar figures ahead of him, coming from the opposite direction. He knew where the one was headed, but the other...

His stepmother was absorbed in something on her tablet, head bent and posture relaxed. On the surface she seemed utterly unaware of the man four people behind her who was trailing after her with laser focus. Whether she was or not, Blake figured he'd find out pretty quickly. Meanwhile the man in question was wearing sunshades that did nothing to hide his identity from Blake, who'd studied pictures of this particular bastard until his eyes had threatened to fall out of his head. Stepmom was getting close to the stairs leading to the main doors...but not close enough.

With steady hands, his eyes never leaving his target as he finished crossing the street, Blake reached into his pocket and pulled out his earpiece, putting it into his ear. That done he pulled out his phone long enough to order it to call Barsad and then slipped it back into its former resting place. He needed his hands free as he started to speed walk as fast as he thought he could get away with and the crowds would allow.

"Barsad here."

"I found him. We're outside the main street entrance of my cop shop. He's tailing my stepmother."

"I have people a block away. I'm sending them now."

"He's wearing a light brown, aviator style leather jacket. Dark wash jeans, brown boots. Designer-shit! He's seen me."

And the bastard had the instincts to know when he was no longer the predator hidden in the grass. He'd been noticed by someone. Someone who wanted to turn him into prey.

So the hunt begins, Blake thought with predator glee.

Both of them started running in near perfect tandem, Blake towards his prey while Roman spun around and took off in the direction he'd come from. Dodging the pedestrians and cops around them with as much ease as was possibly on a busy street Blake couldn't risk calling on his brethren to take this one on. Roman was too dangerous, especially in his feral state. So he ignored their shouts and questions, praying none of them were dumb enough to interfere. Well, other than the shadow Blake picked up in the form of his stepmother, who had finally looked up and was now demanding to know what the situation was as she struggled to get through the crowd made worse in his wake.

He was going to pay dearly later for ignoring her.

It was also a testament to how his brain was wired that despite the situation he was in Blake still had time to notice the shirt of one of the guys he pushed out of his way, Blake not feeling an ounce of remorse over this one since the jackass was wearing a shirt that said 'I've Got Your Vaccine Right Here', with an arrow pointing down to his crotch.

In other words, I'd only feel a slight prick with a good chance of nasty side-effects. Got it, Blake thought with a smirk as he picked up speed. Why the prick would want to advertise that was beyond him, but Blake would commend him for letting any future partners know what they were getting into.

Pushing that aside for the time being-along with people who got in his way as nicely as possible or were already sprawled out on the pavement thanks to Roman-it was a relief when the bastard headed down a side street with a lot less people. It gave Blake a chance to get a better look, the details of which he relayed to Barsad along with the street they were on and-

"Where the fuck is he going?"

This was his city, and while there were always surprises to be found Blake knew this particular part of Gotham like the back of his hand. He'd traveled these streets countless times since he and Arthur had come to live with their father and had cause to visit him at his cop shop. Every store, alleyway-hell every fucking pothole was engraved in his mind at this point. So Blake knew exactly where Roman was headed when he took a sudden turn, and it was going to be the idiot's undoing because there was-SHIT!

"He's going to escape on the fucking Constellation Bridge!"

It wasn't an actual bridge. That would be too easy. Constellation Bridge was an art installation that spanned across a typically quite busy six-lane highway. It was made of two side by side metal arches with about a foot between them, each side depicting various constellations one might find in the sky if not for the city's extreme air pollution. The stars were silver, the rest of the metal bars painted black. Well, it had started out that way. It wasn't well maintained and paint was peeling everywhere, revealing the metal beneath. Which was the problem. Not the paint, but the condition of the nearly three decades old metal sculpture that was meant to look pretty, not to hold the weight of people who might be dumb enough-or desperate enough-to actually try to use it as a bridge.

Most wouldn't be able to do it, the tops of the metal bridges not quite as wide as the average man's foot. Only someone with gymnastic, parkour, or something similar stood even a chance of being able to walk, much less move quickly on it.

Neither he nor Roman were normal people.