The Newest Wayne [COMPLETED]

Chapter 7~ A Shy Girl's Nightmare

A/N: sorry for the short chapter, everyone! I wrote most of this on my phone and I really don't have the patience to write a full-size chapter on mobile, so here's what I can put out for now. I'll put out another longer chapter by Thursday, and maybe another shorter one this weekend or Monday. Stay turned for more stories on Avery Carter-Wayne.

"Stories?" Bruce furrowed a brow.

"Oh my God, Dick...!" I murmured. "It's nothing." I assured Bruce before sitting down at the table. Jason took the opportunity to ruffle my hair, which Tim chuckled at as he snagged a piece of bread.

"No it's not! Avery, c'mon!" Dick laughed. He knew he was embarrassing me, I could see it in his smile. "Why didn't you show us any of your stories?"

"Creation is a noble calling, Miss Avery." Alfred said before sitting down to eat.

"I'd love to read some of your work." Cass said gently, like a light touch as opposed to a rough smack in the face.

"It's really not that good." I shrugged. "I've been writing since I was little, I guess it just helped me escape reality. I never thought to show anyone."

"So, you're afraid of judgement?" Damian raised an eyebrow at me.

"Can you stop psychoanalyzing me and just eat?" I snapped. "So, off that topic-,"

"No, let's stick to the topic of your stories. I like where this is going. Dick, sit down before your food gets cold, you know from experience how angry Alfred gets when that happens." Bruce waved Dick over to the table. Dick reluctantly plopped down in his seat before Bruce continued. "Your writing can't be too bad, Avery."

"It really is." I said bashfully, stuffing food into my mouth so I'd have an excuse not to talk.

"My little sister's a writer!" Dick said excitedly. I cringed a little, knowing that he understood exactly what he was doing.

"Kid, nobody cares if it's bad. I've got the imagination of a snail on weed, so I get it." Jason stated. "But you've got to give us some details."

"What kind of details?" I asked, mouth stuffed with food.

"What genre?" Bruce inquired, which seemed to be a starting point for a barrage of questions.

"Novels or short stories?" Tim asked.

"How often do you write?" Damian leaned forward.

"Bruce, I write basically anything fiction, mostly crime fiction and mystery right now, thanks to your influence." I stared at him with my mismatched eyes. "Tim, it's mostly novels-sometimes short stories, I guess, but that's only for concepts-but the chapters are only a couple pages. Damian, I write basically every day."

"Is that why you were so obsessed with that laptop that Bruce got you?" Jason ran his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah," I admitted, "its great to be able to get my chapters done on an actual keyboard, I always did it on some google document from my phone."

"Glad your enjoying it." Bruce waved his fork for emphasis before taking another bite.
———-
After dinner, I hurried upstairs to finish up what I was doing. Alfred had been in the room, I noticed him leaving, but I didn't question him.

I walked in and sat at the desk, like normal, and noticed that my laptop was plugged in. I usually left in unplugged, since it didn't run out too fast and it was more of a hassle to move it if I had to drag the wire with me, if I needed to go downstairs. I tilted my head in confusion, but decided not to dwell on it. I opened up the drawer, where my usual mess of old, torn-up notebooks and scattered ideas were usually all together in one disastrous pile. I raised an eyebrow when a pack of new, colored pens sitting at the very top, with a couple of new journals below that. I grinned. Did Alfred do this? Probably.

I had an urge to get to work in the new books right away, but I decided to finish the idea. Still, I ripped open the pens and made a mental-and physical-note to ask Alfred if it was him, and thank whoever it was.

I got to working on the chapter, when I heard Tim enter the room.

"Nice work on chapter six, Avery." He waved at me.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, what?" I asked, shocked.

"I'm a certified genius, protégé of Bruce Wayne, and a detective at night. Did you expect me not to be able to hack into your stuff?" He asked the question sarcastically, as if the answer would be common sense.

I just pinched the bridge of my nose and mumbled to myself to change all my passwords.

"By the way, Dick is currently on the phone with Barbara, Steph, and his friend Wally, flaunting your writing. I tried to stop him, I really did."

"We all know there's no stopping him." I sighed.

"It's a good plot. You should really consider publishing on a higher level, you're a Wayne now, we could make it happen. I can give you those connections."

"Ah, I'm good for now, Timmy." I chuckled. "Do you know who did all this?"

"It was Alfred. He does stuff like that sometimes, just some subtle caring." He shrugged. "Bruce is going to go full-on supportive dad soon."

"Oh god, what does that look like?"

"Very overbearing."

"He's already overbearing."

"Fair enough."