#Or Jason hitting on Bruce - as well as giving a bunch of guys fuck me eyes as if he wasn't about to kill them all - in Streets Run Red

[jasontoddsno1simp]

Listen...

All I'm saying is that if the narrative is gonna bend over backwards to justify every shitty action Bruce Wayne does (up to and including literal fucking child abuse) cause he watched his parents die at age 8, it's my duty as a contrarian faggot to do the same for Jason

[neo30deck]

I know people love the batfam, and throwing them through a bunch of character development to make Bruce a better dad so that they're a happy family (at least as close to a happy family they can be).

But it would be really funny if the batkids ended up running off to the homes of Bruce's friends whenever he pisses them off.

And I know you're thinking about Clark or Diana first, but I imagine Barry as the one who has to deal with his house being broken into by a bunch of kids who need refuge from their dad that they're pissed off at.

Now, hear me out.

Dick is best friends with Wally, and I really like Barry and Bruce being close friends. So Dick would've spent a lot of his childhood being around Barry since the guy probably goes to the Batcave to ramble about cases with Bruce.

You could also have him go over to Metropolis to vent to his uncle Clark, but I want the speedster to wrap him in a blanket and give him advice on how to take care of himself and relieve that pressure of being the oldest.

Now Jason... Maybe he would fuck off over to Coast to bother Hal with his problems.

Because 1. The guy already hates Batman, and he would totally bond with Jason over complaining about his awful demeanor. 2. Bruce hates Hal, so Jason bonding with Hal and sharing stories of Bruce doing stupid things to piss him off would be hilarious.

Hal gets stories of the great Batman burning down a kitchen trying to make toast, and Jason gets a hero in his corner ready to wholeheartedly defend him against Batman.

Even if Jason went into a rage, Hal could 100% defend himself by putting him in a box to let it all out. He would not judge Jason for the side effects of dying, they might even bond over that!

I also love the headcanon of Hal being a great cook and knowing how to make great food with his limited supply. So that's something he could bond with Jason over while he vents about what Bruce did this time.

And for the Halbarry enjoyers of this platform, Hal eventually migrating over to Barry's home when they date could give Jason another hero who has experience dealing with Bruce's bullshit under his belt. And he can spend his time cooking mountains of food for the resident speedsters as a way to vent when Hal is off planet.

Now Tim.

Tim shall also go to Barry, because I think these two are cute together, and Tim is friends with Bart, so I imagine him hanging out in Barry's home pretty often regardless. (I may be clinging to that one comic panel of Barry saying he liked Tim. No idea where it is tho)

Give Tim another adult to get help with his cases. Barry canonically spends time after meetings chatting with Bruce about cases. Tim has experience dealing with Bart and his speed rambles. They both could let loose around the other and go nerd as much as they want. Tim would find Barry's knowledge of science fascinating.

And it would've been so fun if Tim went to Barry when Bruce was out of time for help. The speedster has plenty of experience with time-related shenanigans!

Damian... I think he would like Dinah a lot? Maybe because her prowess in martial arts is impressive and reminds him of his mother, so he respects her a lot?

I don't know Damian that well, he might like Barry because he's fast enough to react to all of his attacks, so he doesn't have to worry about catching him off guard. He might even find it fun to try and land a hit? maybe.

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ prompt: “i thought you were dead? for years, i thought you were dead! and i hate that i still love you and never moved on!” 

♡ pairing: tim drake (red robin) x fem! reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “you’re riding high in April, shot down in May but I know I’m going to change that tune when I’m back on top in June. I said that’s life and as funny as that may seem, some people get their kicks stomping on a dream.”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / please check the pinned tweet please! since i’m very low on inspiration.

Tim Drake stared at you, mouth wide open, not knowing what to say or do. he felt like he saw a ghost. you were standing across the room, talking amongst others as they instantly crowded around you. everyone had thought the same thing Tim did and only a selective few knew about your whereabouts. 

you were giving Dick a hug, whispering in his ear about how much you missed him as Damian stood there dumbfounded. Jason was not in the room or else you knew that he would be giving you an earful about the entire situation. Jason always did think of you as a sister when you first started dating Tim. 

“what the fuck happened to you?” Damian screamed, finally coming into the realization of the situation, “you were dead! we saw you die! all of us did!” he continued. you bent down, giving him a hug as he didn’t bother to try and deny it. 

“it’s a long story. i was under secrecy for a long time and couldn’t tell or say anything without me getting caught,” you told him. you looked to Dick who still couldn’t believe what was going on, “it must’ve been a monumental mission if you were technically dead for three years and I couldn’t know about it,” he replied. 

you nodded, whispering to him that you’d tell them the details later, “is...he around?” you asked, referencing Tim. Dick moved a bit to the left, revealing the man you were still madly in love with. you felt yourself gulp, scared on his reaction, “oh god, I never realized how bad this is,” Dick whispered to himself, sensing the tension immediately. 

+

you swinging around the Batcave, Batman clearly annoyed with your antics as you finally plopped down next to him, “aww c’mon Bruce! live a little! this Batcave is so depressing and need I say, dark?” you said, hearing the door jingle open. 

“great, the boys are here,” he murmured, realizing that introductions had to happen between you and his sons. Bruce had taken you in a few months ago, under the guise that you needed a better mentor, “you haven’t met them, right?” he asked. 

you shook your head no, “course I haven’t! it’s my first week in Gotham!” you exclaimed happily. you did hero work out of the west coast and happened to finally land in Gotham for the first time ever, “although I did run into Damian earlier in the week so I think he’ll recognize me!” 

Tim and Dick were the ones who walked in, conversing about some Gotham football game. you smiled at the two boys as they stopped dead in their tracks, “uh....Bruce, who is this?” Dick asked, pointing at you. you stood up, shaking their hands, “I’m ( your name )! Bruce’s new apprentice!” you explained. 

the two sighed, Dick’s first thought being if Alfred knew about you. Tim on the other hand didn’t exactly respond as quick. you were oddly excitable, not exactly the personality that ran rampant across the ‘family’, “apprentice or daughter?” Dick asked, a bit playfully. 

“she’s an apprentice. no need to adopt someone who’s already an adult,” he replied as he stood up himself, “she came from the west coast so she doesn’t exactly know her way around here. it’d be helpful if one of you showed her around. I don’t trust Jason or Damian enough,” he said, walking to another one of the computers. 

“Stephanie isn’t around?” Damian asked, walking inside of the cave, “she’s already acquainted with her and she isn’t available to do it right now so it’s up to Dick or you Tim,” Bruce repeated. Dick looked to his brother with his eyebrow lifted up, “well?” he asked Tim. 

the two of them went to look at you who was already not paying attention to what was going on. you were nose deep into a computer with music blaring inside of your headphones, “I swear that girl has ADHD or something,” Damian murmured to his brothers, “but I think Drake should do it! you just love getting to know people, don’t you?” Damian pressured. 

Bruce nodded in agreement, “it’s settled, you’re showing her around!” Tim stared at Damian, ready to attack the gremlin with his bare hands, “appreciate it Tim!” you yelled from your seat, surprising the three who thought you couldn’t hear what they were saying. 

+

it was already a few months into your internship with the Batfamily. you had gotten closer with Jason, Stephanie, and because of your relationship with Dick, you befriended Starfire as well. even though your work was constantly surrounding you around Tim, you weren’t around him much unless it had to do with work. 

“where you heading off too?” Jason asked, seeing you all dressed up, “Star, Barbara, and Steph wanted to go out for the night since we aren’t on duty so we’re going to get drinks up the street,” you told him. he nodded, looking to Tim and seeing the way he was checking you out, “why do you go with them, Tim?” he asked. 

Tim looked at Jason with a bewildered expression, “why would I be the only guy in the group?” he asked sarcastically. you on the other hand jumped up in joy, “you should!” you exclaimed, “come on! it would be amazing! you know you want too!” you poked Tim’s side in anticipation. 

he sighed, slipping a bit on the couch, “fine,” he muttered, making you excited all over again. you gave him a few minutes to get himself together, “you know he likes you, right?” Jason told you. you laughed out of genuine shock, “who? Tim? yeah right!” you let out another laugh, not believing he was lying to your face, “fine, don’t believe me but it’s pretty obvious.” 

you couldn’t say much else as Tim walked out, hair restyled and threw on a different jacket, “ready?” he asked, hands deep in his pockets. you nodded, throwing Jason a scrap piece of paper before heading out the door as Dick walked inside, “meeting the girls?” he asked. 

“yeah and I’m taking your brother as a hostage,” Dick was surprised, “did you finally?” he started to ask before Tim screamed at him to shut up, “how about we leave,” Tim told you, discreetly hitting Dick on the back of his leg as retaliation. 

the two of you walked out as you told Tim that the place you usually went out with the girls was in walking distance, “I think they’re going to be surprised you even decided to leave your apartment,” you joked as he rolled his eyes playfully, “I don’t think they’ll mind. at least Stephanie can stop saying that I never go out,” he said. 

you laughed softly, “yeah you might be going out with a bunch of girls but it sure beats being stuck inside playing video games or doing work,” you replied, “yeah, guess your right,” you two walked inside of the restaurant, already seeing Steph, Starfire, and Barbara sitting at the usual table. 

the three girls had their mouth hanging as they saw you walking in with Tim, “he actually came out?” Barbara screamed, not believing Tim was actually out, “yeah, figured it was better than staying in for the night!” you said excitedly. 

“I couldn’t even get him to come out with me at times and I dated him,” Steph murmured under her breath to Star. she laughed as you pulled chairs for you and Tim, “I’m getting first round of shots!” you told the group excitedly. Star and Barbara had followed you to the bar, leaving Steph and Tim in a small awkward silence 

“you like her don’t you?” she asked. Tim nodded, figuring it was better to just tell the truth than to lie, “that’s cute! she’s a great girl. I’m happy you finally found someone else but I will say one thing, I think you better get a move on with your feels with her because I know a few others who have an interest in her and one might be on your team,” she said, not so subtly hinting at Connor. 

Tim was taken back by what Stephanie was telling her but remained silent, “and I think she’d say yes on Connor so you better be quick,” she laughed, seeing Tim’s slightly jealous eyes. you returned to the table, giving everyone their glass as you raised yours in the air, “to Tim! for actually leaving his house for once!” you screamed as they all raised their glass and took the shot down.

throughout the night, Tim saw the way you were singing and dancing with Steph and Star, your terrible drunk singing voice getting louder as they played ‘poker face’ by lady gaga towards the end of the night. 

+

you stared at Riddler, seeing that he was ready to attack Tim with full intentions to kill him. you debated for a moment, saving a few civilians from getting mildly hurt or seeing your boyfriend get killed? you chose the latter and ran to Tim who was not paying attention in the slightest at what Riddler was doing. 

“Red!” you screamed, your feet moving as fast as they could and pushing him out of the way. you felt the slice of the knife into your stomach as you had successfully pushed Tim to safety, “fuck,” you whispered, seeing the blood already pooling underneath you. 

although you getting hurt was already pre-planned, you had no intentions of getting hurt this badly, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued, trying to grab your cape to stop the bleeding, Tim stared down at you, seeing the blood gushing at a rate too dangerous for his liking, “hold on, please hold on!” he screamed, moving you out of harms way. 

Bruce had saw you giving him the signal, weakly but you still gave it to him. it was your only chance for your pre-planned mission to actually succeed and the start of that plan was to make you die in front of everyone. Bruce had swung down from the stairs, seeing the way your eyes closed. 

“she needs to go to the hospital,” he told Tim, making him rush you to the hospital himself. he knew this was the only time he would be able to say his goodbyes to you and he need to make it count, “go now!” he yelled. 

Tim dragged your almost lifeless body to the nearest hospital, screaming at the staff that you needed help immediately. the nurses grabbed your body, hauling it to the OR as Tim sat there, blood all over his uniform as he watched you get wheeled into the hallway. 

it felt like hours by the time they gave an update to all of them. Bruce, Tim, Dick, Jason, Steph, Barbara, and Damian, were sitting in the waiting area, munching on food nervously as the nurse came out of the hallway, eyes bleary with tears. 

“she didn’t make it out of surgery. she passed.” 

all of them (for the exception of Bruce), immediately bursted into tears. Tim more than anyone had fell to the ground, having no control of his body as he screamed that it couldn’t be true and that you weren’t actually gone. a part of Bruce’s heart broke seeing his son having a mental breakdown but he knew for their safety and yours, he couldn’t say a word. 

the following days were left to plan your funeral as the nurses who relied your wishes stated that you wanted a closed casket for no one, not even Tim, to see your dead body. Tim hadn’t spoken a word to anyone as he only spoke up when it came for him to plan your arrangements. 

they buried your casket with your uniform laying on top of it as they all saw your casket get lower and lower to the ground. Tim was by this point sobbing as he couldn’t have cared who saw and who didn’t. 

+

Dick grabbed Damian, moving themselves to another part of the room as you walked slowly to Tim. he had yet to say anything but as soon as you locked eyes with him, you both let out sobs to each other. Tim grabbed you by the arms, bringing you into a hug as he sobbed into your shoulders. 

“what the fuck is going on?” he yelled, not knowing what to say, “I’m alive Timmy. I didn’t die that night,” you practically sobbed back to him. he released you, now anger and sadness crossing over him, “what the fuck do you mean you didn’t die?” he screamed, scaring Dick and Damian in the process. 

you sat on the ground, trying to compose yourself, “I went on an undercover mission for league. I had to die in order to protect not only myself but all of you and the entire league. which explains why I look different,” you murmured the last part. 

“I thought you were dead. for years, I thought you were dead! and I hate that I still love you and never moved on!” he exclaimed, seeing the way you stared at him heartbrokenly, “you think I wanted this to happen? it was for the betterment of the league if I took on this mission. I never wanted to leave you or Steph, hell I didn’t want to leave any of you but I had too! it broke my heart knowing what I had to do!” you yelled back. 

Tim bent down, taking you into his arms, “what the hell are we going to do?” he whispered in your ear, not knowing how to respond to any of this rationally. you shrugged as the two of you tried to calm yourselves down from the hysterics you both were throwing, “I just need you here with me,” you whispered back. 

Tim nodded, not releasing you from the hug you were giving him. “I won’t. I won’t let you go! not anymore!” he replied. you laughed through your tears as you heard someone else walk into the room. 

“what the fuck.....” you heard Steph and Jason’s voice scream through the Batcave, “what the FUCK is going on?” they screamed in panic. 

hehehe a cliffhanger 

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

just because you’re afraid it doesn’t mean you’re broken.

Titans 3.05

once more into the cold dark void of the internet with my stream-of-consciousness take on a superhero tv show...

spoilers ahead.

1. i cannot believe that among the first things i get to hear in this episode with my own two ears is the line 'eluded our overdudes'. why must you give me such pain along with so much joy, show?

1.5. scarecrow stringing jason along on this path to red-hood-dom is not something i would’ve ever expected, but does kind of make sense. 

1.55. i don’t know all the details of the original resurrection arc in the comics but i like that jason, weirdly, has a greater role to play in his own demise and rebirth? i think it makes it easier to draw a line between his past trauma, the demonstrably shitty and terrifying responsibility of being robin, the ways bruce and the titans wronged him, his responses to that, the reasons he turns to scarecrow, and his final evolution to red hood. it makes for a smoother character arc rather than a one that was interrupted for two decades before somebody went oh hey let’s resurrect that kid that the audience once voted to kill and make him an anti-hero!

1.75. what’s crane giving him? anti fear toxin? anyway, crane is a fucking creep and i’m not sure i want to see a whole lot of him on my screen.

2. oh, um, heads up: there’s a long sequence of unsteady cam + flickering lights right after the title card upto the 3:16 mark. it’s a bit headache-inducing so if you want to skip, you can go ahead and do that. 

2.45. that’s... weird... why would he dream about... donna...

ok, who am i kidding. i’m going to jump right into my theory about Why Titans Makes Sense Actually because the show itself is apparently not interested in explaining itself:

a) it makes no sense for jason to be conjuring up donna--who famously did not care much for him!--in his dreams. (he wasn’t even there when she died.) or for her to be telling him don’t go or there’s still time.

b) this leads me to think that that’s actually donna, in some sort of limbo between life and death, the kind of place where jericho used to be

c) rachel has demonstrated that she has the power to link the minds of the titans across great distances--she called jason and hank/dawn for help in 2.01, she linked up everybody later in the season, projected dick’s hallucination of his father into their brains without even realising she was doing it, and in the finale, she managed to get dick into conner’s brain. she’s in themyscira now. is this how she gets donna back to life? but reaching out to her in that non-space between life and death?

d) the next obvious question is: why isn’t donna appearing in the dreams of the other titans? she probably is, but they have better reason to be dreaming about her since they were actually close to her, unlike jason.

e) but why would she warn jason in particular? does she foresee jason entering the afterlife--however briefly? does she have an idea of what jason plans to do and what he will become?

f) anyway, more trippy mindscapes and weird psychic powers, yay!

2.5. my heart clenched when bruce comforted jason post-nightmare: clearly i’ve been reading way too much batfam fic. this is a side of bruce we haven’t really been told to expect by all the characters on the show calling him a ‘psychopath’ (*cough*unreliablenarrators*cough*) and him getting jason to speak to a professional speaks volumes about the kind of self-reflection he’s done post dick’s departure, and maybe some of the regrets he has with regards to how he dealt with dick’s traumas.

i mean, just look at him when jason dismisses his concerns! BRUCE IS TRYING JASON

anyway, i have a whole lot more i want to say about this, but i’ll save it for later. 

also: LESLIE THOMPKINS!!!!

3. i really like molly--and i love that she’s a friend from before jason got taken in by bruce, the implication that they meet up regularly and that she’s a grounding influence on him (tho clearly not grounding enough to not go along with his dumbass idea about confronting a child trafficker alone). 

3.5. aw, jason. robin was his armour against everything in the world that would throw him down and chew him to bits, but san francisco proved that even robin wasn’t enough to protect him. it’s really interesting how ‘disillusionment with the idea of robin’ is so integral to the traumas of both dick and jason but in such different ways. 

4. LESLIE!!!!!!! i even forgive her office being so goddamn blue because leslie! 

4.5. it makes so much sense for titans!verse leslie to be a therapist, because this show is so inward looking anyway, and therapist sessions are a useful tool to showcase this character work in a story. besides, at least in fanfic, leslie often seems to double up as a counsellor anyway. 

4.6. oh man. i’m not terribly convinced by walters’ red hood (tho i think that may be the point--argh. i’ll come back to this thought later. have to stop getting distracted!) but he plays the asshole kid that’s trying not to let any real emotion seep through really well.

“you’d like me to punch you, wouldn’t you”

5. not sure what to think of batman’s little trophy case other than the show winking unsubtly at us and going look look - catwoman! the riddler! two face! you excited yet?! it’s like the scene from the end of amazing spiderman 2 when they were trying to drum up excitement for a sinister six spinoff by having harry osborne walk by a bunch of display cases with stuff from iconic villains in them.

... but then again, bruce does like to display a lot of shit in his batcave, including his dead robin’s bloodstained costume, so.

5.5. bruce is so soft with jason it’s killing me. beyond just trying to learn from his mistakes with dick, it speaks to his own genuine desire to balance his dedication to gotham with doing the best by his sons, although he’s often not successful with that. 

i love that titans is really playing the long game with bruce wayne, with each season and character-perspective sliding in fresh pieces of a bigger puzzle. titans’ bruce has always been a phantom of other peoples’ making, but now we’re getting the idea that he’s a whole lot more complicated than other people make it seem.

5.75. it really recontextualises some of his actions from previous seasons: the fact that he locked dick out of his security systems in 1.06 is likely his way of respecting dick’s independence and his desire not to be associated with batman/gotham anymore. jason knowing about bruce’s tracker while dick doesn’t is probably bruce trying to be more honest and upfront with his charges. bruce sending jason packing off to sanfran to spend time with the titans is probably not him passing on a big responsibility to dick (as i first uncharitably thought) but him trying to get jason out of the toxic influence of gotham for a while and a sign of his trust in dick as a leader and a mentor,

5.8. i mean, bruce is a prick, but he’s also human.

6. i think leslie is doing some good work with jason here, though she may have overstepped the line with her line about robin as a construct being projected by a man with BPD. her speculations about bruce’s diagnosis have no place in her session with jason, and if bruce confides in her, an egregious violation of patient-therapist confidentiality. 

(about the diagnosis itself... i don’t know. i can’t really confirm or refute this without a whole lot more information, and i’m not sure if the writer of this episode means BPD in the same way an actual professional might.)

6.5. i think a huge thing that gets missed out in a lot of recent comics as well as movies/shows is that bruce didn’t create the robin persona out of whole cloth. dick did. he’s the starting point of that legacy and to call it entirely bruce’s creation is blatant erasure of that. in fact, i’m surprised that dick doesn’t feature more in the conversations they’re having about the pressures of being robin. after all, the guy had been robin--bruce’s partner--for such a long time before jason. 

6.8. (and here’s the primal part of me that resonates the deepest with dick grayson--the Eldest Daughter part--that’s sort of resentful: that jason gets the therapy and softness and the learning from mistakes when it took years and years for bruce to reach out in any meaningful way to dick.)

7. oooh that was a great scene!

it’s fun to do these stream-of-consciousness live reactions, because the moment you step down from your soapbox, the episode goes right into tackling what you were just complaining about. bruce means well, he’s learning, but he goes about exactly the wrong way to help jason: taking away robin now can’t be read by jason as anything but a devastating judgment call from bruce. and iain glen really sells the moment that bruce realises this--too late--and his helplessness in trying to get jason to see that it isn’t jason’s fault that he’s trying to do this. he loves jason enough that jason is enough. 

7.5. aaaah so jason brings up the elephant in the room at last. dick got everything makes sense from his perspective, where getting to put on a costume and fight crime means approval, means being something stronger and better than you are. dick got to be robin, then nightwing, and a leader of a whole team of other costume-clad heroes. 

8. ... how did jason just walk into arkham????? this is ridiculous.

8.3. i mean, clearly jason’s not thinking straight, but betraying batman like this puts his possibilities of being robin again even further away. 

8.5. watching that chemistry experiment montage was strangely funny. this guy is looking for an antidote to fear? well, constantly mixing up and inhaling gases concocted by a mad-scientist supervillain is something only the very fearless--reckless to the point of foolishness!--would do. what’s to say crane’s not given you a formula for a drug that will keep you tethered to his every will and whim? hmmmm?

8.7. so he sought out the joker to... test the formula??? 

9. wow the “loud and clear... boss” hits different after a whole episode of them referring to each other as father and son.

9.3. waitwaitwait HOLD UP. wait a DANG MINUTE. you’re telling me that scarecrow had enough resources that he could not only have folks on the outside steal jason away and dunk him in a lazarus pit (i TOLD you that this show would bring up and dismiss ra’s al ghul in a ten second aside! I TOLD YOU) but also have his own little chemistry lab in the basement, AND have enough resources for jason to build his red hood persona???????? all of this in barely twenty four hours?

well there goes my ‘jason orchestrated his death’ theory. it was nice while it lasted. *cups hands to the sky* fly away, my baby.

9.6. a part of me is gleeful at the rushed nature of such an iconic transformation though, especially when compared to all the character work that went before it. we’re so used to getting the opposite that it’s fucking delightful to have a show that’s more interested in exploring its characters’ minds rather than battle scenes or recreating transformations from the comics. that’s taken such bold and exciting steps to fully convey all the nuances of its most recognisable character, bruce wayne, from casting an older actor to play him to unflinchingly showing just how damaging the vigilante lifestyle has been to him and the people he loves. BRILLIANT

*sporfle*

10. again, heads up: a whole lot of flashing lights between 40:28 and 42:00. 

10.3. i guess it’s the super-compressed timeline that’s really throwing me off. where did he have the time to get/develop the mind control thing from? or is it something that he got from the cabal of villains that he intimidated at the beginning of 3.02? very messy.

10.5. i love molly, i hope she shows up again this season.

11. aaaand that’s it! that was a solid episode as flashback episodes go, but now i can’t wait to return to the present.

[moonlitceleste]

Elevator Love (Ch. 2)

Chapter 1

So I know it’s been a while since I posted the first chapter, but I decided to give you guys a second as a Valentine’s Day surprise!

I’m really sorry for not updating earlier; besides hating the first chapter so much that I didn’t want to continue, I’ve been really busy with school and extracurriculars, the other WIPs and hobbies I have, and recently my mental health has made a steady plummet haha.

I simultaneously have a vague idea and also absolutely no idea where this fic will go, so we’ll see! Updates will probably be few and far between because besides all the factors mentioned earlier, I’m a really, really, slow writer

Also, I wrote the last chunk of this chapter 1AM last night, so sorry if it’s not coherent askjdhsj

Ages are as follows (it’s been so long since I wrote the first chapter that I forgot what I initially planned them to be so...)

Alfred: ∞ Bruce: 37 Babs: 30 Dick: 27 Cass: 22 Jason: 22 Duke: 20 Tim: 20 Marinette: 19 Damian: 13

Warning: some profanity/cursing ahead!

-

The heavy metal door to Bruce’s office knocked against the wall with a bang as Jason kicked it open with the toes of his worn black boots.

“What,” he grunted, not even waiting for the older to speak first.

Sure, maybe his unprovoked attitude was a little much, but Jason couldn’t help his annoyance.

Just hours before, he was preparing to settle into his favorite plush beanbag and read (well, reread) The Count of Monte Cristo. After a long week of crime-fighting, nothing sounded better than relaxing next to a crackling fire and getting lost in the pages of his favorite book.

But of course, as soon as he decided to unwind, his phone rang with the obnoxious tune of “Jingle Bells, Batman smells!”

Babs had installed the ringtone as a Christmas prank, reinforced with some advanced encryption she had come up with.

Jason could change it if he wanted to—he wasn’t stupid—but Babs was a tech whiz, and it would take more effort than he wanted to spend. Besides, he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him struggle.

After the jingle abruptly breached his bubble of tranquility, Jason grudgingly picked up his phone.

He was immediately met with Bruce’s gruff voice and barely had time to process the words that filtered through before the triple beep that signified the end of the call sounded.

What the fuck?

Jason groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his black locks, ruffling the hair at the back of his head.

First Bruce called him without warning, demanded he meet him in his office, and proceeded to hang up without leaving him room to talk?

Fucking rude.

Why could he have just texted the very short request he had to Jason instead? That way he could just ignore it and pretend he didn’t see it.

It’s not like he had to oblige—he wasn’t a fucking lapdog, thank you very much—but if he didn’t, Bruce would come up with some inane punishment, like making him babysit Damian.

He didn’t hate the kid or anything, but Jason would rather not have to deal with a hormonal boy in the midst of puberty.

So he set down his book, threw on his leather jacket, and crusaded through the shitty Gotham streets on his motorcycle.

Wayne Enterprises was just as pristine as it was his last visit, with glossy gray-black floors and glass that stretched from ceiling to floor, so clean it sparkled.

Jason passed through easily enough, though not without being spared a few glances that varied from shock to suspicion.

The double-takes weren’t unexpected, what with his being the son of their boss and all, and the suspicious glances from those who didn’t recognize him weren’t exactly unwarranted.

He knew his leather-jacket, combat-boot wearing self looked laughably out-of-place compared to everyone else.

Jason ignored the looks, a habit that had quickly become second nature the moment he went from street kid to ‘street kid with a roof over his head.’

The elevator was thankfully vacant, and as the doors started to close, he shot a quick thanks to the universe that no one else had decided to get on.

Perhaps this was a mistake, because less than a second later he heard a high-pitched voice shout “Wait!”

Jason sighed disappointedly and pressed the button that would open the doors.

He might not have been in the mood for company, but he wasn’t an asshole.

...Okay, whatever. He wasn’t a total asshole.

The girl ran into the elevator after a short while, cheeks flushed from running.

As she stuttered out a thanks, Jason subtly observed her.

She looked a little young to be working at Wayne Enterprises, and her outfit looked much more “picnic date” than it did the formal attire most wore.

There were only a few around her age that worked at WE, none of which whose significant other would have an access card to the building (other than Tim, that is, but there was no way the Replacement had a girlfriend.)

Maybe she was a daughter of one of the employees, then.

The elevator space soon filled up with boxes, and they were forced to do an awkward shuffle to compensate.

A minute later, the girl was unceremoniously shoved into him.

The sweet smell of vanilla and strawberries—subtle yet perceptible—hit his nose, and Jason glanced down.

He could really only see the top of the girl’s head due to their proximity, but her body language screamed discomfort.

So he backed himself up into the elevator wall as much as he possibly could, whispering a sorry and cursing his tall build all the while.

She was admittedly cute, but he’d be damned if he was the prick who pressed himself up against girls without their enthusiastic consent.

The ride was spent with bated breath, and one elevator stop later, Jason found himself walking to Bruce’s office and kicking in the door.

There was a brief silence as it swung back and forth from the momentum; the older simply sighed tiredly and gestured to the chair across from him.

“Have a seat.”

Jason glanced at the black office chair, then at the door as if he were about to suddenly bolt, and then back at the chair. He seemed to think the better of making a hasty escape and grudgingly walked forward, though not without rolling his eyes.

So fucking dramatic.

“What,” he repeated once he had sat himself down.

Bruce just stared at him, hands in a steeple position. It was no doubt an intimidation move; he had seen Batman use the same on Arkham villains.

Jason met his gaze unflinchingly. If he wanted a staring contest, that’s what he’d get.

“Tim has a…friend coming over.”

The silence was broken with slow words, spoken in an almost careful manner.

“Okay. Why’d you have to call me here to tell me that?”

Blunt and to-the-point as always.

“I’m an adult, Bruce. I don’t need a lecture about being on my best behavior. Damian might, though,” he added as an afterthought.

Bruce sighed again and wow was he was doing a lot of sighing today. He really was melodramatic.

“I wasn’t going to lecture you, Jason. I just wanted you to know so you could be prepared.”

“Oh.”

The silence was palpable as an air of awkwardness settled around the two, and Jason sat there fighting the urge to shift in his seat before speaking.

“So is that it?”

“Yes.”

He stood abruptly at the dismissal, pushing in his chair as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Well, he did want to get out of there.

With one hand he smoothly opened the heavy door, prepared to leave, but he stopped in his tracks when Bruce spoke once more.

“Jason?”

“What?” he asked, with considerably less annoyance than the first two times.

“...I’m proud of you, lad.”

Jason tried to suppress his shock at the statement, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his facial expression betrayed him.

Despite the somewhat-steady in their family dynamics the past few years, they were still an emotionally constipated bunch.

Jason couldn’t remember the last time someone said those words to him; they meant more to him than he’d reveal.

But because he was a part of the emotionally constipated Wayne family, he settled for an offhand “Yeah, yeah,” before closing the door and walking out.

There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, and the warmth in his heart was one he hadn’t felt in a while, but he could deal with all those emotions later—for now, he had a book to get to.

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior *@bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @too0bsessedformyowngood

ELEVATOR LOVE TAGLIST *@bluesimani @buginetye @bumblebeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @laurcad123 @moonlightstar64 @roguishredaxion

[night-fallz]

We’re Tired of Him

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Wally interrupts game night.

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

We’re Tired of Him (part 2)

Dick stared at the cards in front of him, eyes tentatively drifting to Tim and Jason.

Jason’s brows were furrowed before he slowly put down a +4, cheekily grinning at Tim. “I choose red.”

Tim’s face was blank, eyes switching from the stack of cards on the table to the ones that he was holding. In the end, he gave Dick a mischievous grin, putting down another +4. “I want green.”

Dick groaned and the cave was filled with his brothers’ laughter, they gave each other a high five while Dick grabbed 8 cards from the deck.

“You guys are cheating.” he accused.

Jason shrugged and Tim raised an eyebrow, neither one saying anything.

Jason had five cards left and Tim had three. Dick would be winning if it wasn’t for that stupid +8 trick they pulled off.

He put down a green card, leaving him with nine cards.

“Uno,” Tim called out, not flinching when Dick glared at him.

No one said anything for a few seconds until Dick’s voice cut through the silence. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

Tim gaped at him, “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is the fact that the two of you are conspiring against me.”

“We are not!”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too!”

“Jason, tell Dick that we weren’t cheating.”

Jason stared back at the two of them, unimpressed. “We weren’t cheating.”

Tim gave him a victorious look. As if he was trying to say, see. Jason agrees that we weren’t cheating, so we obviously aren’t cheating.

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Dick cried out, “Why would Jason admit that you guys were cheating?”

Jason frowned, “Are you accusing me of lying?”

“Yes!”

“That’s not very nice of you, Dickie.”

“I don’t care if it’s not nice of me. You’re cheating and I don’t want to play with a bunch of cheaters.”

Laughter filled the air and Dick turned towards it, launching himself towards the intruder.

Behind him, Tim took a defensive position, bo staff in his hand and Jason had his guns out, ready to shoot the intruder.

With rubber bullets, of course.

The intruder groaned in pain, “Well, at least I know that it doesn’t matter how old you are. You’re still a very sore loser.”

Dick glanced down, getting off the person when he realized who it was. “Sorry, Wally.” he apologized, offering his hand to pull the red-head up.

Tim frowned, “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah,” Dick added on. “Didn’t you guys have a mission or something?”

Wally sped over to the closest chair and sat on it, “Yeah, but we finished it pretty quickly.”

Wally’s eyes were focused on his hands and Tim followed the speedster’s gaze, noticing how they seemed to fidget.

Tim inwardly frowned, was there a problem or something. Everyone in the Justice League knew that the Batcave was off limits. And even then, they didn’t make an effort to try and enter it.

Wally was lucky that Dick was here or else Batman would’ve had to deal with him.

Thankfully, Jason spoke up, “There better be an emergency or something cause it's game night. And you just interrupted it.”

Wally opened his mouth, “You know Damian right?”

Tim stared at Wally, “Yeah, we know Damian. He’s our brother, you idiot.”

“No- I mean- like- I-“ Wally sighed, “I know he’s your brother, it’s just-“ he groaned, “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Tim wanted to groan as well. This was supposed to be game night. A bonding experience. He didn’t want to talk about Damian.

He would be lying if he said that he still didn’t harbor a grudge against the youngest member of the Wayne family.

When Jason tried to kill him, he was under the influence of the Lazarus Pit. And afterward, he apologized to Tim.

As far as Tim knew, Damian wasn’t under the influence of anything. All Damian said was something about how Tim wasn’t worthy of becoming the Wayne heir and tried to slice him with a sword.

Bruce said that he had a talk with Damian about it but the brat never apologized, so Tim hasn’t forgiven him.

Dick’s voice snapped Tim out of his thoughts, “Did Damian do something again?”

“Kind of.” Wally waved it off, “He was just acting like- well, himself.”

Tim winced, that was still pretty bad.

“What did he do?”

“It’s not important.”

“It must be pretty important if you risked going to the Batcave.” Jason pointed out.

“That’s actually not why I’m here.”

It was Jason’s turn to frown. None of this shit was making sense.

He knew that he should’ve just stayed with Roy.

Jason was under the impression that they would be playing games. You know, hanging out, making a mess, being forced to bond like brothers and all that shit.

He didn’t want to talk about the demon brat.

And if anyone asked, the answer was yes. He was still mad at the little Christmas gift Damian got him last Christmas.

What the fuck gave the kid the idea to give Jason a crowbar as a gift?

Jason still had nightmares about his death. The crowbar did nothing but made those horrors come more often every night.

He fought off the shiver that threatened to make its way upon his body.

“If you weren’t here to talk about the demon, then what did you want to talk about?”

Wally faced them, “You wouldn’t happen to know a way to get the bra- Damian to relax would you?”

Jason heard Tim snort at the question, “Trust me. If we knew a permanent way to get Damian to stop being so uptight, we would’ve used it by now.”

He studied the speedster, narrowing his eyes when Wally started to avoid their gaze.

“Wally,” Dick was using his i-am-the-leader-so-you-have-to-listen-to-me voice. “What are you trying to say?”

“I mean, what if we get him drunk.”

Jason blinked, “You want to get Damian drunk.”

When Wally nodded, Jason continued, practically yelling. “Why the fuck would you want to get Damian drunk? He’s gonna kill you.”

Tim shook his head, his mind already coming up with a million scenarios of how this would end up. “How did you even come up with the idea that getting Damian drunk would help him relax?”

“Getting him drunk won’t help him relax at all.” Jason pointed out, “It’ll probably only make him even more uptight and paranoid.”

Jason’s blue eyes glinted with something Tim couldn’t decipher, “Unless that’s not what you’re after. You want to get the brat drunk for another reason.”

Wally nervously nodded, “You caught me. Well us- I guess. The team and I wanted your permission to get Damian drunk so that we can learn more about him and gain blackmail material on him.”

Tim froze, mouth open in shock.

That was a lot of information.

Dick sat down, his head beginning to hurt.

He could see the appeal in learning more about Damian. He’s been living in the manor for around two years now and they still don’t know much about him.

If Damian opens up about his past, then it’ll be easier for the family to help him. It’ll be nice for Damian to start getting comfortable with people. After all, that was the whole reason that Bruce signed him up for school.

And who knows, maybe his baby bird could make a new friend or two. Cause Dick knows full well that he doesn’t have any at the moment.

The cave was engulfed with silence, except for the sound of Wally’s feet nervously tapping the floor.

In the end, the speedster himself was the one who cut through it. “So…” Wally’s voice trailed off, “Do I have your permission?”

Tim’s eyes were focused on the ground. “I don’t care what you do to the brat but I want to be in the tower when it happens.”

Wally smirked, nodding in acceptance. “Deal,” he turned to the others “What about you guys?”

Dick shifted uncomfortably in the chair, his back was stiff and Tim could see how conflicted his eyes were. With a little bit of probing, he knew that he could convince his oldest brother to agree to Wally’s demands.

“Come on Dick,” Tim said, his lips tugging upwards. “Aren’t you even remotely curious about what Damian will say?”

When Dick doesn’t answer, Tim continued. “You know that Damian has a hard time with, um, interacting with people. This is probably the only way we’ll get him to open up.”

He could see the gears turning in Dick’s head and Tim realized that he was so close. All he had to do was push a little more.

“Doesn’t Damian deserve it? Damian deserves people who understand him. People that’ll be there for him. Hasn’t Talia fucked up his life enough?”

Dick clenched his fists at the mention of the Al Ghul, “Fine.” He spat out, “But only because Damian needs this.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at him, not believing a word. “Alright.”

Dick wasn’t stupid. He knew that Tim was trying to manipulate him into agreeing. But it also doesn’t change the fact that his brother was right.

Talia did mess up Damian’s life. She was the reason that he hasn’t opened up to anyone yet. Why he was treated like such an outcast with the other capes.

If all Dick had to do was get his little brother drunk, then he would do it.

Tim turned to his predecessor, “And you Jason?” he asked. His head was tilted innocently but his eyes were calculating him.

Jason knew he would be outnumbered if he disagreed. It also doesn’t help that Tim had his I-can-get-you-to-agree-with-anything-face on.

He groaned in defeat, burying his face with his hands. He knew that he should’ve stayed with Roy tonight. After this, he would never go to a game night again.

He looked at Tim’s determined face and sighed, “I’m not gonna be able to stop any of you anyway. I’m in as well.” his lips formed a smirk, “It won’t hurt to gain blackmail material on the brat.”

Damian better watch out because the next time he puts a crowbar underneath his pillow, Jason was gonna send the video of him being drunk out of his mind to everyone that he was in contact with.

Jason knows that Tim would help him.

“So you all agree?”

“Yes.”

“You’re agreeing to getting your brother drunk.”

“Yes.”

“Huh, okay. Great.”

Wally’s face turns mischievous and it reminds Dick of when they were kids. Back when they just started with the whole vigilante thing.

“So are you guys free for the rest of the night?”

“Wait,” realization hit Tim like the brick that Steph threw at him. “You guys are planning on doing this tonight?”

Wally nods, “Well, yeah. The sooner the better you know?”

“And when exactly did you guys come up with this plan?”

Wally rubbed the back of his neck, “Like about two hours ago? We were just talking and it escalated from there.”

Tim doesn’t know how you can go from talking to conspiring an idea on getting a teammate drunk. At least, not unless-

“You know, you can admit that you were talking about Damian.” Tim leaned forward, “You guys aren’t the only ones that talk badly about him.”

“Tim!” Dick cried incredulously, “You shouldn’t talk about Damian like that.”

He shrugged in response, “You do it too.” he said, “Remember when you first met him?”

He felt his face turning red and he turned away from Tim, hoping he wouldn’t see his face. “That was a long time ago.”

“You were also complaining about him yesterday.”

“I was not.”

“Was too.”

Tim folded his arms, “So you’re a sore loser and a liar.”

Dick fought hard to suppress a groan, “You guys were cheating.” he cried out. “I don’t play with cheaters.”

Jason faced Wally. “What they’re trying to say is that yes. We’re all free tonight.”

Wally smiled brightly. “I knew that you guys would be okay with this.”

Jason nodded, deciding he should be nice for once and not point out how Wally pale and nervous the speedster was before he asked the question.

For someone with super speed, Wally took way too long to get to the point.

He could see why he was friends with Dick.

“You know,” Wally’s tone got Dick’s attention. It was the one he always used where he wanted to embarrass someone. And Dick was usually the target. “I remember you hacking the Mario Kart back when we used to play.”

“Did I?” he put on his best confused face, “I don’t remember that ever happening.”

Dick definitely remembered that happening. He beat a speedster at a racing game. Hacked or not, he was still the winner.

Tim pointed an accusatory finger at him, “I knew it. You’re the cheater.”

Jason shook his head in agreement, “Dickface over here has the biggest competitive streak. Remember when he put the steak in his shorts just so he could prove to everyone that he was Titus’s favorite?”

Dick forced a frown on his face, “Funny thing is, I don’t remember that happening. At all.”

“That took place two days ago!”

“I have bad memory…?” he meekly offered.

Tim scoffed, “We’re never having a game night with you again.”

“You say that every week.” Jason pointed out.

“Well, I’m serious this time.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tim didn’t like the amount of attention that was now focused on him so he turned to Wally, “So how are we going to get Damian drunk?”

“We were just gonna spike his drink.”

Tim swore, “You can’t just spike Damian’s drink. He’s gonna figure out that you guys are acting weird and realize what you’re doing.”

Wally fidgeted under Tim’s scrutinizing gaze, “Well what do you suggest we do?”

Tim smirked and Dick swears that the room just got colder.

“The kid is pretty much a prodigy at everything vigilante related thanks to his training, but he sucks at socializing.”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that why we want to get him drunk?” Wally asked, not seeing the point in what Tim is trying to see.

Tim answered the redhead's question with a “Well, yes.” before continuing at his attempt to tell everyone his plan.

“But what I’m trying to say is that we can overwhelm him. Me and Jason will help set everything up in the tower and Dick will bring Damian there.”

“So we’re throwing a party?”

Tim furrowed his eyebrows, “I mean, if that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”

It was Dick’s turn to frown, “Why do I have to be the one to bring him in?”

“Cause he likes you better than any of us.”

“But still,” Dick groaned. “It’s gonna be so hard to convince him.”

“That sounds more like a you problem than it sounds like an us problem.”

“This is unfair.”

“Call it paying me and Jason back for accusing us of cheating.”

Before Dick could reply, Wally sped away, taking his brothers with him. And before he could even blink, they disappeared via zeta tube.

They left Dick alone in the cave, with the board games still out.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance, mumbling under his breath as he cleaned up the mess.

“Who gave Bruce the idea to adopt more children past me. If he wanted more children, why couldn’t he make sure that he got the ones that cleaned up after themselves and didn’t cheat while playing UNO.”

He huffed, proud of himself when he accomplished the task.

Now all he had to do was convince Damian to come back to the Titans’ tower so that they could help him.

How hard could that be?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

note: okay, I reread this whole series so that I could get inspired to write this chapter. And can I just say, my writing was not as bad as I thought it was. Like I’m actually pretty proud of myself. 

That was really random but yeah.

(like I always ask, please comment any ideas, feedback, and criticism that you have. i love reading them. Oh! and if you see any spelling errors, please tell me. I don't have a beta reader so I mostly miss those things.)

[sohotthateveryonedied]

When Everyone Who Loves me Has Died

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

"Everything is as it should be, yet here I am, still feeling like I’m missing something.”

“Like what?” Tim can’t remember the last time he saw Harley sit still and listen for so long without getting fidgety. Either she's learning self-control, or Tim's life is just really fucking depressing.

“Like...I don’t know.” Tim scratches his thumbnail against some dried paint, unable to feel the chill of the metal through his glove. “Everyone is back, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were dead. That part still happened, regardless of whether they came back or not. It’s like—like burning a hole in a piece of paper and covering it with tape. It doesn’t heal anything.”

Whoever came up with the concept of mind over matter should be imprisoned for false advertising. Tim has been trying to get his mind over the matter for months now, and the matters are still very much gripping the steering wheel. If anything, his mind gave in and slid into the passenger seat, going along for the ride. Tim is sitting on a billboard platform, Lex Luthor’s ginormous bald self providing a nauseating backdrop as he advertises whatever world domination kick he’s on at the moment. Tim watches the cars go by on the highway, utterly indifferent to the tiny speck of a vigilante watching from above. His cowl is down, but he isn’t worried. It’s unlikely that anyone will be able to spot him up here, civilian or otherwise. Besides, it gets harder and harder to breathe under the weight of the mask these days. He was supposed to be getting better. The days are coming in at longer intervals, which should be a relief. Days when he gets “dark and twisty” as Jason lovingly calls it, which isn’t too far off, Tim supposes. Something inside of him is definitely twisted, coiled into a furl of darkness where there used to be light. God, he needs therapy. He should be getting better. There is no logical reason to be feeling this way. Not anymore. Not when things are finally back where they should be after years of grief. Maybe something has been knocked loose in his brain, keeps him on this brink he can’t seem to sway to either side of. He’s not happy, but he’s not completely sad either. There’s no logic to it, no reason. No closure. Is this how ghosts feel? Like they’re straddling the in-between, stuck feeling like everything they have is just slightly out of reach? “Why the long face, kiddo?”

Tim is up in an instant, fumbling to pull his cowl back over his face. He raises his bo staff at the prowler, only to find Harley standing at the other end of the platform, her arms packed with reusable grocery bags. She’s wearing civilian clothes: a Nightwing tank top and leather pants that look like she doused them in glue and rolled around in a kiddie pool filled with glitter. Tim relaxes. He lowers his staff. “You shouldn’t do that. I could have knocked your head off.” “Nah, I’m too good to be taken down by a twelve-year-old.” “I’m eighteen.” “You sure? ‘Cause I could have sworn you were still in middle school.” “Hilarious.” “Thanks, I’ve been thinkin’ about doing some comedy on the side to pay the bills. Eddie says I’ve got a real knack for it.” Harley sits on the edge of the platform beside the spot where Tim was before. “I asked you a question, by the way.” “Bruce is going to kill me if he finds out I’m hanging out with you.” Fine, so that’s a minor exaggeration. Bruce will always have beef with Harley regardless of how many good deeds she does. Dick’s theory is that Bruce has some lingering bitterness from his and Harley’s rivalry from med school, and he probably isn’t too far off. The rest of the family is far looser when it comes to trusting Harley; Alfred even sent her a Hanukkah gift last year. “You and I both know Brucie is in Metropolis this week.” At Tim’s inquiring look, she explains, “My mom is friends with him on Facebook. So, are you gonna spill or what? ‘Cause I’ve got ice cream here and I swear to god I’ll fill your nostrils with tapioca if it melts.” Tim rolls his eyes. He lets his cowl fall back against his neck and sits beside Harley. “I’m fine.” “And that’s why you’re hanging out here all angsty-like?” “I’m not angsty.” “You’re the angstiest person on this fuckin’ billboard.” Which, fine, that’s probably true. “I don’t need a PHD to tell that something’s eating ya, kid. Which I do, by the way. Got the certificate and everything.” Tim gestures to her grocery bags. “I thought you had somewhere to be.” “What, these ol’ things? Nah. I just have a date with Pam-a-lamb tonight and had to borrow some supplies.” “Borrow?” “The manager there was a dick, anyways. He’s the one who got all snappy when I ate all the free samples, so trust me. He deserved to get his stuff stolen.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” “I’ll go back and return the thirty-seven scratch-offs I took if you tell me what’s bothering you.” Tim looks out over the black horizon, the moon barely visible behind the clouds. “It’s nothing.” “Everything is something. Gandhi said that.” “Pretty sure he didn’t.” “What, did you personally know the guy?” She nudges Tim with her elbow. “Well? Spit it out, Timberlake.” Tim lets out a breath. “It’s just...you know when you lose something really important to you? And you miss it, but after a while, when you’ve already accepted that you’ll never see it again, you find it? And you’re happy to have it back, but there’s still...something is missing. Almost like you never found it at all, you know?” “Not really, no.” Tim’s mouth twitches upward. “I’ve spent the past two years in mourning, but now I don’t have to mourn anymore. Everything is perfect again.” Harley arches an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, you don’t know why you still feel like you’re grieving?” Tim nods. “Small fry, that’s not a symptom. That’s normal for someone in your situation.” “No, it isn’t. I should be happy right now. I should—I should be the happiest I’ve ever been. I spent so long trying to make everything right again, and I did it. Conner is back. Bart is back. Bruce is back. Everything is as it should be, yet here I am, still feeling like I’m missing something.” “Like what?” Tim can’t remember the last time he saw Harley sit still and listen for so long without getting fidgety. Either she's learning self-control, or Tim's life is just really fucking depressing. “Like...I don’t know.” Tim scratches his thumbnail against some dried paint, unable to feel the chill of the metal through his glove. “Everyone is back, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were dead. That part still happened, regardless of whether they came back or not. It’s like—like burning a hole in a piece of paper and covering it with tape. It doesn’t heal anything.” “Well, of course it doesn’t.” Tim looks at her, surprised. Harley’s eyes are serious for once, void of humor. “Having all your folks back doesn’t erase the fact that they were gone. Grief is what makes us human. Still feelin’ bad after everything is fixed just means you’re still working on it.” “That’s it?” Harley’s eyebrows furrow. “What’s it?” “I thought you were going to...I don’t know, crack open some huge revelation and make me realize it’s all in my head or something.” “I mean, it kind of is in your head.” Harley tugs on one pink pigtail. “Grief doesn’t come from your feet, Timantha.” “So...how do I fix it?” Harley shrugs, sitting back and swinging her legs in the air. “Fuck if I know. Go see a therapist or something?” Tim snorts. “I’d rather not.” “What, you got a prior engagement? Too busy for psychoanalysis?” “I can’t exactly go to a normal therapist and explain to them that all of my friends are superheroes and my dad is Batman.” “Hm. Point taken, bird boy.” Harley goes to boop his nose, but Tim swats her away. “Talk to me then. I’m a dandy good listener.” “Thanks, but I’m good.” “I’m serious. Got the license to practice and everything.” “I’m pretty sure psychology licenses expire once you’re imprisoned for terrorism.” “Well, jeez, go and insult me, why don’tcha? And after I offer my help like the good citizen I am.” She stands, picking up her shopping bag. Then she digs around in her pockets and comes out with a small white card. She hands it to Tim. Harley Quinn — hit(wo)man, psychiatrist, bounty hunter, dog walker, mercenary, finder of lost things, life coach. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” she says with a wink. “I’m also considering goin’ into doggie makeovers.” “I don’t know,” Tim says. “I won’t go blabbing your information to Croc or no one, cross my heart. I strictly abide by the doctor/patient confidentiality rules.” A pause. “Most of the time.” Then she looks back at the billboard of Lex, looking for the world like a vengeful Mr. Clean god. “I’m sure he won’t tattle.” “I don’t think the Justice League would think very highly of one of their own getting therapy from an ex-supervillain.” “So? Fuck them, they’re a bunch of crusty old people anyway. Come on, think about it, Timberly. I’ll even give you the friends and family discount so long as you bring doughnuts when you visit. Teen angst makes me hungry.” Tim considers it for a moment, then sighs. “I’m free on Thursday afternoons.” Harley grins. “It’s a date, bird boy.”

[withthekeyisking-writer]

What’s a Batman story you wish someone else would write for you instead of writing yourself??

Gotta tell you, I got super excited when I got this ask, because there are so many things!! That I would love to see happen!! That I’ll never get around to writing!! So uh, strap in because this is gonna be a big ol’ list :) I’m gonna organize these so that it starts with gen ideas and then switches to darker ones (otherwise, really in no particular order). Also, because it’s me, many of these are Dick-centric.

1. First up is a Batfam Hogwarts AU, but with the specifications that Dick is a Slytherin, Jason is a Ravenclaw, Tim is a Slytherin, and Damian is a Hufflepuff. Skalidra actually made an amazing post about this that I agree with so fucking much, and I want a fic that does this justice.

2. Batbros are actually blood bros. I know there are a couple of these already out there, but not the way I picture it in my head, so here you go: Bruce knows about Dick while the kid is growing up, visits the circus any time it’s in town, takes Dick out for ice cream & shit like that, but Dick thinks this is just some family friend his parents like him hanging out with. It’s not until Mary and John fall that Dick learns the truth about his parents. For Tim – Janet never really wanted a kid, so when she and Bruce sleep together (up to you to figure out why) and got pregnant, she was like “okay brucie as soon as this pops out you can keep it” which, once Tim was born, Bruce did. Jason can go so many ways, so up to you!

3. Transgender Dick!! Yes, these are already out there. Yes, I want so many more! Give me the struggle of coming to the realization while amongst Gotham’s high society. Give me extra supportive Bruce or a Bruce that just can’t wrap his head around the concept and absolutely fails to be in any way a good parent of a trans kid. Or take the extra step and give me a non-binary Dick!!! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one of those, and as an enby individual, I really would love to.

4. Jason as a teacher. Do whatever the fuck you want with that, but I want to see Jason teaching literature. Still in the superhero world, no alternate world where Batman isn’t a thing. I want a Jason who’s been Robin and died and come back and been Red Hood and is a teacher.

5. I had a dream about Dick being a clone, and then an idea popped up behind it: In the Young Justice cartoon world, the Light makes another clone of Superman. But this time, the human DNA they used to stabilize the Kryptonian part isn’t Lex Luthor’s DNA, but Batman’s! That Superman-Batman clone is Dick. While Conner gets rescued by the YJ team, Dick (or whatever title CADMUS gave him, like how Conner was just called “The Superboy”) isn’t found, and is trained to fight against the team of young heroes as the Light’s weapon. Dick gets captured eventually and Bruce&Clark find out about their clone baby. Throw in some Superbat if you feel like it, or just Two Bros And A Baby. Either way, I would kill for this.

6. Ok you know how at one point or another Damian, Jason, and Cass were all members of the League of Assassins? Well, what if there was overlap? I want the three of them working for the League and knowing each other. I don’t know if this even works out at all but I just think this would be kinda cool, especially if it includes Bruce finding out about Damian or about Jason being alive and gaining a daughter along the way.

7. While we’re on the subject of League of Assassins, all four of the boys work for the League!! Do with this what you will, I merely present the concept to you.

8. Secret Agents. Just…just give me them as spies. Pls.

9. Dead Robins Club that ACTUALLY INCLUDES DICK BECAUSE Y’KNOW HE DIED. It’s a pet peeve of mine, when people write these kind of fics and include Tim and Steph (neither of which actually died) but not Dick, even though he did die for at least a couple minutes. Please stop ignoring Dick’s trauma guys, I beg of you. There’s one amazing fic between Jason, Damian, and Dick, and I want so many more of stuff like that.

10. Greeks/Roman Gods AU where Dick is the God of Death and king of the Underworld instead of the springtime god. There’s a really great jaydick fic out there that has this, but it’s abandoned, and I rally really want more of a Dick like this.

11. AU in which Bruce is the youngest member of the Justice League, and is still the badass leader he is in canon. No one in the League knows the truth, but it’s not like Bruce ever said I’m in my 20s or older, he just. Never mentioned he just graduated high school and is working on his accelerated bachelor’s degree.

12. A fic that addresses the fact that Dick has, in canon, been buried alive. I might one day write this, but I have a lot of projects that I do know I’m going to write, so this is wayyyyyyyyyyyy down the line, long enough that I’d be very happy to see someone write it instead. Bonus points if it’s a fic about Dick and Jason, and the fact that Dick killed Joker also comes up.

13. Tamaranean!Dick. And I actually have a whole word/plot for something like this that I’m never gonna write so if you wanna do this hmu I have THOUGHTS

Ok boys and girls and enbys we’re about to hit the dark shit so turn back if you don’t want to have to read it. You’ve been warned.

14. Ancient Rome AU in which Bruce is a senator and owns his robins as slaves (gladiator-wise and otherwise) who try to earn their freedom but Bruce likes using them too much (both for himself and in gaining control over others, like sending one of them to seduce somebody to gain leverage or steal something or what have you) and so he keeps changing what will gain them their freedom.

15. Auction fic where Dick is drugged and kidnapped and auctioned off to a bunch of villains. Yes, fics like this exist. Yes, I would like Many More.

16. Brusladick where Bruce has some Bad Thoughts about Dick but can’t bring himself to act on them, but he wouldn’t mind letting someone else do it, and who better than Slade Wilson, who absolutely wants to fuck Dick. So Bruce sets up a camera in the room and gets off to all the hard shit being done to Dick, but Slade breaks their agreement a little and tells Dick that Bruce is watching.

17. In an ABO universe, Dick is an omega. The world is pretty modern overall, of course there will always be some level of sexism but it’s not a large issue. But there’s this far-right terroristic-type group that thinks omegas are just good for ding as they’re told and being bred and have made it their mission to “fix” omegas who think they deserve equal rights, and they get ahold of Dick, sending a video to Bruce saying they’re return Dick when he’s better. For some reason Bruce and Co can’t find Dick for a long time, and by the time they do Dick’s severely traumatized and been conditioned into obedience and submission towards alphas.

18. In the Young Justice cartoon world, while Kaldur is undercover in season 2, an interaction with Deathstroke reveals something horrible about Nightwing’s past, and Kaldur has to act like hearing these graphic, awful things about his friend. After it’s all over, he goes to Dick and mentions Deathstroke saying something and Dick kind of shuts down and says like “How many people heard what he said?” There is a twitter thread between me and a friend on this very subject if you need inspiration ;)

19. Something based on this amazing art

20. Bruce is hella abusive. Dick lets himself be Bruce’s outlet so he won’t hurt the others. This, of course, comes to light. Yes, shit like this exists. But I pose you a question – is there ever too many? And has it been done by you yet?

21. Brainwashing. Just, give me brainwashing. Turned against your family, used and mocked by your enemy, kneeling “willingly” at your enemy’s feet. Bonus points for all kinds of abuse.

Well, that’s my list!! Go off and do great things for me! Thanks for the ask!!

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine:

The Batfamily is all assembled in the Batcave working on some case, when Alfred intercoms them from up in the Manor. He says there’s a man on the phone for Master Dick, with it being a matter of some urgency. Bruce starts to ask if he’s established whether its an actual emergency or something he can take a message on, but Alfred continues...

Alfred: Err, the individual in question ensured I was aware he knew Master Dick was on the premises and available to take his call...even if I did need to patch him through to our....downstairs line, as he termed it.

Bruce: Our downstairs line? He phrased it exactly like that?

Alfred: I’m afraid so, sir. He was circumspect, no doubt in deference to our....privacy in such regards, but there was little margin for misinterpretation as to his meaning. This may come as some surprise, but I have considerable practice in the art of reading between the lines, and like to imagine myself somewhat of an expert at the craft.

Bruce: *sighs* Patch him through, Alfred. Did he give a name?

Alfred: Very good, sir. And yes, he did say Master Dick refers to him as Boone.

All eyes swivel to Dick, as Alfred transfers the call to the Batcave’s ultra encrypted top secret super hush hush line. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Dick: If I get an ulcer from the next five minutes, I’m absolutely naming it after him.

Bruce: You don’t seem surprised this person has knowledge of our identities. Why wasn’t I informed of this individual, as a potential threat of exposure?

Dick: Umm, it didn’t seem relevant?

Bruce: ....what.

Dick *shrugs*: I mean, to be honest, I mostly forgot. He’s known forever, and its not likely to ever be an issue for the same reason he’s never done anything with the knowledge before now. He’d never give our identities to someone who could potentially compromise us or harm us, because that risks someone other than him killing me before he can say he’s beaten me and proven himself better than me once and for all, and that like. Pretty much would defeat the whole point for him.

Bruce: ....I’m almost afraid to follow your logic.

Jason: I’m so happy right now.

Dick: If it helps, he’s known since like, I was eleven. So I mean, I do feel pretty confident if it was going to be an issue, he’d have made it one way before now. Hence why I....kinda just forgot. I mean, I didn’t really forget, forget, but like I said. It just didn’t seem relevant.

Bruce: ....that does not help, no.

Tim: Wait, what? Who is this guy!?

Damian: ....Grayson, did you hit your head on patrol? You’re not making any sense.

The speaker crackles to life again before anyone can press Dick for more questions.

Boone: Hello? Are you reading me loud and clear in the top secret Batcave you got there? 

Dick: Boone. What the hell do you want, and how do you even know we have a Batcave, let alone call it that? And also, what the hell do you want?

Boone: Freddy! My buddy! My pal! Long time, no ass kicking! 

Dick: Not that long. Usually you like to wait a few more months than this before ringing me up to ask for another one.

Boone: Any chance we swap this connection out for a video call? You sound irate, and that’s easily one of your top ten facial expressions. You can’t tell but I’m fanning myself just thinking about it.

Dick: I am going to kill you. It is going to hurt.

Boone: Promises, promises. You always say things like that and yet here I am, my masochistic needs still unmet....

Dick: Boone!

Boone: Freddy! Alright, unclench. No need to get your jockstrap in a bunch. I figured you had a Batcave because you obviously have to have some kind of lair on site, and your Daddy Warbucks seems too fond of his toys to fit everything in the attic, so downstairs seemed a safe space. You can relax. I’m not spying on you via a periscope sticking out of your toilets or something suitably archvillainous and cliche.

Dick: And you just happened to know its called the Batcave?

Boone: ....well on that score I mean, I have met you, and your old man does have a theme, and it wasn’t actually super hard to add two plus two and get four there. Thanks for the confirmation though. Its always nice to know I’ll still be able to make it on my brains once all this beauty begins to fade. Ah, time, that bitch. The absolute Murder Icon we all aspire to, with a body count none of us will ever match.

Dick: Did you call just to wax poetic or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing, or is that just a treat I’ve earned with all my good karma.

Boone: Actually, funny you should say that, because I’m calling with an exciting investment opportunity that could reap you loads of karma reward points on the back end!

Dick: ....what.

Boone: I need your help. Sorry, was that not clear? I don’t have a ton of practice on that line. My profession’s not big on the whole communal effort sort of thing.

Dick: ....what.

Boone: Oh come on, don’t be like that. It can’t be that shocking to you, I mean, you’re a hero. Helping people is what you do. You have to hear that line all the time!

Dick: Yes, just usually not from mass murderers.

Boone: Oh, you damn me with faint praise.

Dick: As long as we’re clear on the damnation part.

Boone: Besides, I mostly just murder in a singular fashion, you know, as in one at a time. There’s hardly ever any mass.

Dick: Well that changes everything.

Boone *laughs*: Oh, Freddy. We do have fun. Speaking of, how about it? You wanna hop on over to the far side of the world and bail my finely curved and plushly padded ass out of the fire, before the nefarious evildoers who are after me do unseemly and deplorable things to it and also to my organs?

Dick: And here I thought nefarious evildoer was your job description. Someone’s gunning for your head and your title? Tough day you’re having, chum.

Boone: Its the world we live in, mate. Job security just ain’t what it used to be.

Dick: Not sure if that’s the world’s fault or more just something to do with your particular line of work. If only there had been someone at some point in your life who could have warned you about your profession’s usual stats on job security. Oh wait.

Boone: I know, I know. Listen, as dazzling a pairing as my pecs-tastic physique and scintillating intellect may be, I pale before your perfection, old buddy. Be a pal and try not to hold that against me, will you? Tell you what. You come help me out of this little old bind I’ve gotten myself into through no real fault of my own, and I’ll let you give me one of those judgmental stares you’re so fond of, and you can say you told me so. Actually, you know what, for a limited one time only offer, I’ll even throw in a free spanking!

Dick: You’re an idiot.

Boone: I know, who am I kidding. I’d let you put me over your knee any day. Really, its your own fault. When all your stern talk of discipline and punishment makes bad boys like me go weak in the knees and swoon, how can we possibly be expected to keep to the straight or narrow?

Dick: ....why do I get the feeling you didn’t just know I was here, but that my whole family is present and listening too?

Boone: In my defense, I distinctly recall you being the one to tell me to get a hobby, last time we tangoed in Paris.

Dick: I was talking about things to occupy your time without killing people, not inviting you to occupy your time making my life miserable. And it was Chicago, not Paris.

Boone: Well then you should have been more specific. And I know it was Chicago, you moron. Ugh. I may kill people, but you’re murder on a theme. God, you can be such a peasant sometimes.

Dick: This from the guy who....you know what? No. Stop. I’m not getting sucked into this again with you. Get to the point, Boone. Fine, you landed your ass in more trouble than even you can handle, for once. Why is this my problem, and what would possibly make you think I would help you out of a mess you made and probably more than deserve to reap the consequences of?

Boone: Because you’re a goshdarn hero, Dickie, and a better man than me, remember? And because you’re not doing it for Shrike the mercenary, you’re doing it for your old buddy Boone. That you couldn’t save from himself and will hate yourself for not saving now, if I do wind up dead and you happen to ask yourself if you could have stopped this. Which, of course, we both know you will. So should we just skip to the part where you do what we both know you’re gonna do in the end anyway, because you can’t be anyone other than who you are anymore than I can be anyone other than who I am, no matter how much either of us wants to pretend otherwise? Or do you want to dance this out a few more songs first?

Dick: Send the situation details and coordinates to the email address I gave you last time. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and if you so much as think as killing someone while I’m there, you won’t like where I drop you off.

Boone: Mmm. Fair enough. For all the perkiness of your perky parts, your taste in venues has always been shit. You can cool your jets by at least five degrees, Mister Superhero Sir. I’m in no rush to enjoy the accommodations of Bludhaven Penitentiary a second time. They didn’t even have HBO. Barbarians.

Dick: And Boone? After I do this, you and I are through. You stay out of my way from now on, and I’ll do the same. Clear?

Boone: Oh, Freddy. Tell yourself whatever you want to, but we both know that you and I won’t be through until the day one of us dies. I’ll owe you one, let’s go with that. Alright, check your email, just sent the sitch. I’ll see you when you get here, til then this booty’s gotta bounce! Ta!

The speaker hisses static as the phone disconnects. There’s awkward silence as nobody has any clue what to say and Dick very conspicuously checks his email on his phone.

Bruce: This Boone...he’s the mercenary and occasional assassin Shrike? 

Dick just nods, his shoulders tense and uncomfortable. Everybody else eyes each other warily, except for Cassandra and Tim who exchange particularly confused glances. They fought a mercenary named Shrike once, years ago, but nobody had ever said there was anything significant about him, or hinted there was any reason he and their oldest brother should have any basis for having a conversation like...whatever that just was. 

Not to mention, even Bruce sounds weird now. Like he’s just as awkward and uncomfortable as the rest of them look and feel. And Bruce only sounds uncomfortable when talking about like. Feelings and stuff. Family situations. Never cases. Never....the bad guys.

Bruce: ....he was one of the other students at Vengeance Academy, I take it.

Dick still doesn’t look up from his phone. His voice is resigned and weary. This is not a discussion he wants to have, his siblings can tell that much. Even if the rest is all just gibberish to them.

Dick: He ended up with the League after Shrike died. Trained with them for a few years, then eventually broke off to do his own thing. Called himself Shrike in honor of....our old teacher. He was. Particularly attached to him.

Bruce: ....you...kept in touch, then?

Dick barks out a startled laugh, full of too many other emotions to put a name to.

Dick: Hardly. We’ve just....run into each other over the years since then. He figured out who I was a long time ago, when he recognized my picture in some puff piece online, about you taking me in and your charity work with kids’ programs after that. And he recognized my fighting style as Nightwing, so. It was just inevitable we’d cross paths, I guess. There’s just. There’s stuff between us that never got settled, you know?

Bruce: ...I’d almost forgotten that was where you first honed your skills with your escrima sticks. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Who he was...that you’d encountered him? Since...those days.

Dick finally looks up and studies Bruce carefully. Then he looks off to the side and sighs.

Dick: Because you’d forgotten that was where I first honed certain skills. And I didn’t particularly want to remind you, I guess.

He sighs again and shakes his head as Bruce looks about to respond.

Dick: Bruce, I....look, we’ve both put a lot of years and effort into not talking about this. Seems a shame to break our streak now. Can we just....this is just something I have to do, and I kinda need it not to be anything more than that right now. It’s just. I have to go.

Bruce: ....I understand.

Dick barks out another uncharacteristic laugh, sharp and reproachful, but at who, it’d be impossible for even him to say.

Dick: I doubt that. I don’t even understand. But I appreciate you trying to, and...letting this wait for another time. Like I said. I have to go. Sorry I can’t help out more with the case. I’ll see you all later.

Damian: Grayson, don’t be absurd! You can’t go! Whoever that man was, he’s clearly manipulating you!

Dick shakes his head and laughs one more time, but here, at least, its a bit warmer, a bit closer to his usual humor. He stops to ruffle his youngest brother’s hair as he passes him, before continuing on towards where his motorcycle is parked along the main causeway to the cave’s entrance.

Dick: Trust me, kiddo, I know. He’s not even trying to be subtle. It’s so....tacky.

All too soon, his engine roars to life, and then his cycle and its passenger speed out of the cave leaving behind only shadows, echoes, and the backglow of his headlights, all of which soon die away themselves.

In their wake, all eyes turn as one to Bruce, still seated in front of the Batcomputer.

Duke: I have questions.

Jason: I have comments.

Tim: I have concerns.

Bruce sighs.

[aconitemare]

[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Four

AO3

Previous Chapter

Dick kicks his foot in the air repeatedly, inspecting the pink flowers on his white Oxfords. He’s pretending to ignore the people around him — possibly, he is actually ignoring them, as the outlines of their bodies blur around his fancy footwear. He leans farther back on Jason’s desk, conjuring the picture of ease. To his left rests Jason’s Red Hood helmet in a gargoyle-fashion. Everyone here knows Jason Todd is the Red Hood, but Dick is just Richie Grayson, D-list celebrity. The sleeves of his pretentiously silk bomber jacket, embroidered with colorful roosters, slip slightly down his shoulder. 

“Is this really the best time to be hiring people? Specifically this person?” This question comes from James — or “Wingman,” as Jason earlier informed him of. James is up-and-coming, bat-themed, Gotham-based vigilante who believes the Red Hood is absolutely critical to public safety. Dick has not yet shared this detail with Batman, having only received it an hour before this current meeting, but he’s hoping they’ll share a good laugh over that.

“No time like the present,” Jason says without much concern. He stands beside the desk, a few feet from Dick. 

Dick catches James crossing his arms from the corner of his eyes. The defensive body language convinces him to focus more on the arrangement of people. Suzie Su still sits on the recliner, seemingly indifferent. Her sisters, one of which Dick recognizes as the waitress who intercepted him and Miguel earlier, flock around Su either on the couch or near her armrest; all except for Night, Dick’s blackjack dealer yesterday, who now occupies a distant corner of the room by herself. Miguel sits in the recliner opposite Suzie Su, playing with his tie. James stands the closest to Dick and Jason and busies himself with looking like he eats nails for breakfast. 

“The son of Bruce Wayne is hardly a sound addition to the Outlaws,” James points out. 

Suzie Su’s head swivels towards Jason. “Oh, no,” she says, suddenly invested, “Whatever ‘the outlaws’ is, count me out of it. I’m going legit, you promised!”

Jason takes a page from Dick’s book and seats himself on the corner of his desk. He grips the edge, knees spread, so that he looks like he’s riding a horse. For an unstably diverse crowd, he’s rather at ease at the head of it, Dick notes. Jason holds up a silencing finger and begins his address, “Firstly, the Outlaws are too legit for any mere mortal to handle, that includes you, Su, so stuff it. Secondly, James, you can also stuff it because no one’s inviting Richie Rich onto the team except you, it would seem.”

So, does that mean I don’t get to see the Super Secret Clubhouse and make friendship bracelets? Dick almost says. Instead, he receives a text alert and checks his phone to see Bruce left him a message. 

What is your plan of action? it reads.

Dick quickly shoots back a non-committal text, wary of Jason sensing Batman’s concern through the phone. Luckily, Jason doesn’t pay Dick’s texting any mind, preoccupied with his stand-off against Wingman. 

James persists, undeterred by Jason’s skilled dismissal. “Batman isn’t exactly in your corner, Todd. He is, however, in Wayne’s pocket. As is Richie Grayson.”

Dick frowns; his current persona is apparently no longer a good fit. He will need to adjust accordingly. Dick sits up straighter on the desk and tucks his legs. “I have my own funds, as a matter of fact,” he speaks up. Jason’s eyes slice into him — oh, right, Dick’s not supposed to talk while meeting the in-laws. Oh, well. He continues, “I work for the Bludhaven Police Department.” 

Dick touches his jacket collar and inspects the interior fabrice. “I try to dress nice when there might be cameras so I don’t make Bruce look bad, but most of it’s bought off-price at Marshalls.” This last part is a lie as he rarely buys his own photo op clothes. Bruce has a personal stylist who keeps everyone’s wardrobe at the Manor stocked. Dick hit up his old bedroom on the way to the hotel. 

“You’re a cop,” James repeats. 

Dick holds back a wince. So much for Agent 37’s kick-ass undercover portfolio. “Every cop’s a little dirty in the ‘Haven,” he says, hopefully smoothly.

Unfortunately, James does not find this comforting. “So not only are you a cop who knows about the Iceberg’s business, but you’re not even a good cop?”

Dick points at Jason. “He murders people,” he deflects. 

Jason sighs obnoxiously loud. “Richie has information and contacts,” Jason increases his volume when James looks like he wants to say something else, “neither of which are anyone’s business at the moment but mine. Believe it or not, but I’m pretty attached to my life, in both a literal and figurative sense, and so if I say the guy from that one lady-service Pantene commercial is going to keep my organs safely inside my body, rest assured, I have done my research.”

This standing ovation inspires Dick to wonder whether Jason saw that commercial on cable or some other venue. He tries and fails to imagine Jason watching Friends reruns. Maybe he caught it off some gun review video on Youtube. This is the kind of media Dick assumes Jason consumes. 

“Great to know,” says Suzie Su flatly. “So, Richie, who’s trying to whack our boss?”

“No one yet. There have been no attempts on his life thus far,” Dick responds. Then, “Also, you can just call me Dick.”

“Shouldn’t be too tough,” Suzie Su remarks.

“The situation will escalate, though,” James states,  “There is no doubt that Red Hood is the final target.”

“Correct. Which is why it’s important that we trust each other,” Dick says. He levels a gaze at everyone in the room except for James, which should indicate to him that he’s the object of criticism without presenting Dick as outwardly hostile. “If we are too busy suspecting each other without any evidence, we allow for outside threats to slip past our radar.” Dick can only hope they will take this to heart; it will be harder for him to investigate Jason’s people if they’re also investigating him.  

“Truth,” Miguel agrees as he stands to his feet and walks towards Dick. “Although it kind of worked out for us this time, right? You following me, us following you?” As he approaches, he extends a hand and Dick dismounts from the desk. “Welcome to the team, Dick,” Miguel says, clapping Dick on the shoulder as they shake. His smile is warm and sincere. Dick feels an equally genuine grin spread across his face. 

“Alright, alright,” Jason says, leaning from his spot on the desk to bat an arm at them. “What did I just say about teams, dude,” he gripes. Miguel shrugs rather blithely before he returns to his chair. Dick appreciates what he hopes will be the one easy-going personality in this tense bunch. 

Jason claps his hands together and stands. “Okay, here’s the deal: I want someone always watching my vehicle for the next, fuck, two weeks, I guess? One week?” He looks to Dick for confirmation. Dick mouths, ‘longer.’ “One week to start, cool,” Jason locks in his answer. “I don’t mean from the cameras, as I really am hoping to catch this person ASAP and get back to my regularly scheduled gangbanging.”

Dick watches the crowd: Miguel gives a whoop, Suzie Su rolls her eyes, one of the sisters not standing in the corner laughs. 

“So, that means I need you,” Jason flourishes his arm in the air and brings it dramatically down like a hammer, finger pointing sharply at Miguel, “to physically be in the parking lot.”

Miguel looks around in bafflement. “I’m the owner. That would look weird,” he says, gesturing towards himself.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone is lining up for your autograph, too, now come off it. No one here is instantly recognizable except for me, and that’s mostly to do with the helmet,” Jason pats the helmet beside him emphatically, “giving me serious red Darth Vader vibes.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. Jason hears him anyway, but that turns out to be not so bad. Jason’s eyes flicker towards him but they’re absent of reproach, which is how Dick realizes he had expected to be growled at for his humor. But Jason made the joke, didn’t he? He goes so far as to smile, not threateningly, but pleasantly. Dick wants to call it soft even. 

Jason’s eyes are back on the ragtag team within the second. He explains properly his reasoning to Miguel. “The subject’s abilities and target range are unknown to us. You’re our safest bet for handling whatever he might be capable of. And you can wear whatever you want.” Dick assumes that last bit is weighted with the implication of a supersuit, although Miguel’s secret identity may very well be known considering the lack of visible confusion on anyone’s face. Of course, that could just be indifference; no one in this room seems particularly interested in each other. 

“If you see someone snooping, wait it out. If you see someone put something on my bike, apprehend them and bring them to me where I can then proceed to shoot their brains out,” Jason instructs. Dick tries to say something, but Jason says over his attempt, “If they’re guilty.”

“Not really the problem,” Dick mutters. 

“The Su Brigade can, I don’t know, keep doing what you’re doing, I guess? Keep an eye on suspicious figures.”

Dick chimes in, “This time, however, immediately report to Jason or myself. Don’t rush in unless the threat is urgent. Don’t,” he motions to James, “text James, or whatever it is you guys did. That was sloppy and uncoordinated.”

James shifts his weight more evenly. Dick instantly recognizes the implicit challenge and straightens his back. “Text you, huh? What, you the boss now?”

Dick files through his possible responses, weighs the best tone to take, the stance to adopt. Should he pick up the gauntlet and try to assert dominance, or go for diplomacy? He doubts this will come to blows, but the direction he takes this could have later consequences, could affect Jason’s safety even in the long-run. 

Dick almost misses the change in Jason’s posture, but it’s instantaneous. “He’s close enough,” Jason has already spoken, no longer leaning against the desk but standing with his hands deceptively plunged into his jeans pockets and his searing green eyes locked on James. “More the boss than you are, at any rate, so yeah, I’d text him.” He sounds almost casual, accent set in a lazy Gotham drawl, yet there’s an angered click to how he sets his teeth. He’s intimidating, alright, the sharp cut of his cheeks complementing his strong jaw. He’s quite Hollwood-esque actually, Dick thinks — at least before he realizes Jason is looking right back at him. Jason raises his eyebrows and spins his fingers in a prompting manner. “Well? Anything else you’d like to derail the meeting with, Dick?”

And just like that, Jason manages to personally undermine the power he just gave him. Dick is bordering on impressed, restrained only by his sudden irritation. Dick simply smiles and says, “You’re the boss.”

“Fantastic. James! How do you feel about interrogating people you can’t beat up?” Jason proposes to the next member of the non-team. 

Dick thinks James could question people without beating them up just fine, especially after the practice he got in while interrogating Dick. James doesn’t comment on whether he’s up to the task, however, but replies, “Who am I interrogating?”

Jason grins and quickly bows his body. “A witness. Exciting, right? Unfortunately, no, not exciting. This will suck for you. Daniel Garcia, the second victim, should be at Gotham General Hospital — fingers crossed he has insurance, because otherwise you’ll have to find out where he lives and talk to him there.”

Dick could be projecting, but he thinks James puffs up his chest at this. “I can find anyone anywhere,” vows James.

“I’ve no doubt, buddy. I just would prefer he not have to relive everything the second he gets home because a stranger wants to hear the gory details,” Jason explains. His tone is slightly scolding. There might be some decency in him yet. Dick immediately feels guilty for being surprised. Jason is a good guy. A good guy. He’s said as much to Bruce. Did he forget to tell himself the same thing?

“Bring some flowers to soften things,” Dick suggests.

“Flowers don’t soften a crowbar, Dick,” Jason disagrees. Still, he adds for James, “But yeah, bring flowers. The family won’t like you for it, but they’ll hate you even more if you don’t.”

“Do we have to do anything?” Suzie Su asks, a little unhappily, it would seem. Dick doesn’t trust her. Then again, would she be so openly disloyal if she was double-crossing? The only person in this room Dick trusts is Miguel — and even then, if there’s one thing Batman has been trying to drill into him for half his life, it’s that trust is a liability. Anyone here could logically be a mole. Anyone here could be loyal, too. 

“No, Suzie Su, I expect absolutely nothing from you and that’s why I dragged you to a staff meeting, so you could sit on your ass and pick at your nails,” Jason intones. Suzie Su drops her manicured nails to her lap and glares at him. Jason sticks his tongue out in response. “You and your lovely sisters of questionable bloodline are my ears to the ground.”

“So, same as before?”

Jason cocks his head, shakes it up and down as if weighing the question, and says, “K-i-i-i-i-nd of? It’s like what you were doing before, but not complete garbage. Need I remind you that you let this idiot into my office.” Jason jabs his thumb in Dick’s direction.

Miguel raises his finger. He’s properly relaxed in his cushiony recliner, legs crossed and arms spilling over the back. “Ah, but you let the idiot stay,” he reminds Jason. 

Dick twists his lips. “Thanks, Miguel. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Jason decides. “Alright, everyone out of my office and onto the things I demand of you. Dick, you’re coming with me.”

The crowd is already dispersing. Dick hops off the desk and pats the wrinkles from his pants. “Why’s that? I thought you didn’t want me breathing down your neck.”

Jason’s back is to Dick as he fastens his Red Hood helmet over his head, which tips Dick off that some of his people outside the office might still not know who’s under the mask. Jason’s response is rougher than before. “You saw the tapes, didn’t you?” The energy from only a minute ago has melted from his voice. The helmet lights up then and Jason’s next words are modulated, shrouded in static. “That makes you the expert.”

Dick does not miss the irony of this statement. 

  ___________

  Dick has Jason drive him to Bludhaven. Jason has many cars and not a single one is worth less than $80,000. “How do you blend in?” Dick asked on the way to his shitty apartment across the pond, Jason looking absolutely put-upon by the half-hour drive.  His Red Hood helmet has been stowed away in a personally customized, hidden compartment. “I don’t,” Jason simply replied. Dead guys, according to Jason, don’t need to feign poverty. Especially if those dead guys are better known for their underground empires and resort casinos. However, two rich men in a luxury vehicle don’t have much business commiserating with the family of boys like Terry Weind. So, the two stop by Bludhaven to pick up Dick’s Saturn and allow him to change into less flamboyant clothes. 

Dick chooses a threadbare BPD t-shirt and jeans. Jason stays in his signature ensemble of leather jacket and combat boots. He raises his brows at Dick’s outfit, but Dick insists it’s a good choice. Even if they don’t like the police, he’s still out of uniform and unarmed, and they’ll know this isn’t his territory. He’ll seem like a commuter, which might even win him some subconscious sympathy; many people in downtown Gotham have to commute to Bludhaven, albeit usually for a fishery job and not the police department. 

Jason waits in the car for Dick to come out. Dick invites him in, but secretly he’s relieved. The place is a mess. If how he keeps his office is a hint, Jason’s habits are immaculate. They would put Dick to shame. Dick taps Jason’s window to signal they’re switching to the Saturn. Jason takes an excessively long time to part with his car, all but cooing at it, but does eventually make it over. He settles into the passenger seat, looking Dick up and down.

“What?” Dick asks, perhaps defensively. He should’ve said something like, “Like what you see?” but it’s too late for that. 

Jason shrugs casually, but his eyes flicker to Dick’s hair. “Nothing. You just look normal now.” 

Dick jams his keys into the ignition, because he has to be rough for the car to start, and rolls his eyes. “You mean my hair’s not gay?”

“Eh. Less gay.” And then Jason is reaching out and ruffling his hair, fingers curling through the still-damp waves. Dick stuck his hair under the bathroom sink’s faucet before putting his shirt on. He got water everywhere, but he needed to get the product out. He weirdly hopes Jason doesn’t feel any lingering stickiness, that his hair is soft to touch. 

Jason’s face abruptly screws up in confusion as if he isn’t sure how he got here. Slowly, he retracts his hand and sits straight in his seat. Dick didn’t notice how open Jason’s body language was just a moment ago, but he notices how it closes. His knees no longer point towards Dick but to the windshield; his arms, once extended towards him, now fold across his chest. Dick stares at him for a moment, trying to piece together the puzzle he suspects they almost had. 

Jason’s presence always has that mystifying effect on him, however, like he’s a monument to all the almosts they’ve been. When Jason was Robin, they were almost friends. When he was the Red Hood, they were almost enemies. Then they might have been brothers, could have been, maybe. There had been that night on the rooftop when Dick had managed to slip through Spyral’s many fingers — when Barbara had run away and Damian had embraced him and Tim demanded why, why — Jason had drawn blood as his voice broke because you don’t do that to your. Almost.

They are always on the verge of some new meaning. 

“Well?” asks Jason. “Are you waiting for me to set up the GPS? You know the address, let’s go.”

Dick quickly recovers and begins edging out from his spot between two other parked cars on the street. “What are we, drag racing? Jeesh.” They avoid traffic for the drive over but do swing into a corner store once they’re in Gotham again. Jason buys the most expensive bouquet available while Dick fiddles with a rack of playing cards. Pokémon? Magic? Would Terry care about either of those games? He sees Jason head to the counter and grabs a random card pack to check out. His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he finishes counting off the dollar bills. He hands the cashier $16 and unlocks his phone. It’s from Bruce.

Any progress?

Dick begins typing out an answer when he remembers the boundaries he agreed on with Jason. He said he wouldn’t share any details with Bruce unless Jason okay’d it. He could let Jason know Bruce is asking, but even mentioning Bruce tends to sour him. Dick would rather get through this meeting with Terry Weind first. He makes a mental note to inform Jason later and give Bruce a non-answer if he says no. 

Ten minutes later and they’re standing on narrow porch steps. The wooden planks are dark and splintery and covered in cigarette butts where an ash tray has been knocked down. Dick squats down and picks it up; ceramic, woodsy-green and leaf-shaped. He sets it atop the paint-chipped banister while Jason knocks on the door. The walls are thin enough that Dick can trace the sound of someone walking down the stairs. It’s summery outside today, the earth baked through by the sun, but he’s thinking of winters down here. Even with a good furnace, these walls must let the chill in. 

A woman opens the door in her nightgown, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame. Her eyes are red and the skin beneath them sags. Her skin is almost ashen. She looks tired. She is tired, she’s exhausted, Dick can feel it when he looks at her. Her exhaustion is a heavy substance that spreads out and sinks into his flesh. 

“Are you Terry’s mom?” Jason asks. He has the flowers already at his chest. His voice is stiff with emotion. Dick recalls his comment about Daniel reliving trauma and wonders if that’s what Jason is doing right now. 

The woman nods and says that, yes, she is, but little changes in her expression. Dick had been expecting confusion, but she accepts the flowers without hesitation. Evidently, they are not remotely the first ones to share condolences. “My name’s Laura,” she says, touching the waxy petal of a calla lily. Her voice is soft and deep as if it’s been anchored to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’m Jason.”

“Dick,” Dick says after him. 

Laura opens her mouth silently for a few seconds before carefully telling them, “I appreciate you boys coming here and wishing us well. It’s been hard, but we’re grateful to the community’s response, it’s been wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me not inviting you in, it’s just that I work grave and don’t get much sleep, and Terry’s resting.”

“We understand. But actually, we’re not just here to offer our sympathy — though you do have it, of course,” Dick conveys. He rushes the words of each clause so his speech comes out in quick, nervous chunks. He’s dipping head, taking up as little room as possible while moving closer to her. Jason takes a step back to accommodate him. He wants to represent himself as sincere, perhaps too sincere to the point of being clumsy. People often think inept and trustworthy are the same thing; the logic goes, you can’t be hiding any tricks up your sleeve if you’re more likely to spill them on the floor. 

“If you turn us away, we get it, don’t worry,” assures Dick, “but this is our city and our kids are getting snatched.”

Laura begins shaking her head. “Oh, no, he’s not answering any questions — ”

“We won’t ask as many questions as the police,” Dick hurries to say. “We don’t need to. We,” here, Dick breaks off his speech and looks uncertainly at Jason, feigning hesitance. Then he takes a galvanizing breath, readying for his big leap, this information he’s sharing only with Laura. “I work part-time at the Park Row Memorial. I’m a guard, similar work to what I do with the Bludhaven Police. We have it monitored 24/7 so it doesn’t become a high-crime area again.” Dick sighs in frustration and bites his lips. “Laura,” he says firmly, staring into her eyes. Her pupils have dilated along his story. Good. “I saw Terry that night. The police haven’t even asked Park staff yet, they don’t care. But I saw it happen and I think I can do something about it.”

The best cover story is always based in reality. The best lies are true. 

Laura’s eyes drop the ground as she thinks. She’s also biting her lip. Dick ponders over whether she does that often and Dick got lucky, or if she’s mirroring him. Either way, he’s won her over. She shuffles to the side and waves them in, her movements less languid than before. 

She leads them to the stairwell and says, “If he doesn’t want to answer questions, he doesn’t have to. I’m not going to force him, you got it? Get what you can and hope it’s useful.” With this, she climbs the steps to the second floor, Jason and Dick following at an appropriate distance. They pause at the top step while she enters Terry’s room and explains in hushed tones his guests. She relates Dick’s reason for being here and then there’s a long pause before Dick detects a faint, “Sure.” 

Dick and Jason share a look that confirms: they’re in. Laura places a light hand on Jason’s bicep and guides them to the door. “I’ll stand right here,” she says firmly and waves them forward. Dick looks around for a chair, sees none, and settles on the windowsill facing Terry’s bed. He’s faired better than the next two kids, all injuries considered. He was out of the hospital in a month. He lies in his twin-sized mattress beneath a crisp sheet, a blue comforter shoved to the foot of his bed. A square bandage covers his right cheek, there’s stitching over his right eyebrow, and there’s more stitches on the right side of his skull. His right arm and knee have been set in casts. Dick remembers him curling onto his side at one point in the video. 

In the wake of the other victims’ hospital records (courtesy of Oracle), Terry’s assault had been carried out with perfunctory brutality. Dick recollects the scene but recalls no hesitation in the attacker’s swings, yet their violence has clearly increased. Perhaps they are doing someone else’s dirty work and the job has just now awakened a taste for pain in them. Or maybe it’s one guy after all and they’re adjusting to the role. 

“So, you know the fucker who did this?” Terry speaks up first. His voice is a little rough and definitely fatigued. Despite his current infirmity, Dick can tell he’s a sturdy kid. He’s got the same build Jason had at that age, youthfully broad with natural muscle in the absence of training. A body with room to grow in. 

Dick shrugs. “Not personally. But we hold out hope. What did his face look like? Any defining features?” he attempts, even knowing that Terry’s report claimed to make out nothing from the night of the attack.

Terry was looking at Jason beforehand, which Dick can’t blame him for. Jason takes up most of the room as he stands by Terry’s feet, stock straight with his massive arms folded. Dick has a habit of downsizing Jason in his head. In general, Dick’s guilty of subconsciously diminishing certain people’s threat levels, letting his familiarity with them obscure the danger they still pose. He does his best to put himself in Terry’s shoes and see what he might see; he accomplishes this by summoning the first night he encountered the Red Hood before he was also Jason Todd, fallen boy wonder. Even without the vigilante get-up, the man’s intimidating. 

Now that Dick has asked a question, however, Terry’s eyes appraise him. Dick once again folds in on himself, tucking his arms closer to his sides and leaning back so he’s as out of Terry’s space as he can be. Then Terry’s eyes stray to the floor and he mumbles, “Looked like nothing. It was dark.” But he doesn’t say it like it was nothing. 

“You saw something,” Dick contests. He’s not going to wheedle or coax, he decides, because that would just leave Terry room to equivocate. “You don’t know what you saw, but you saw something, and whatever that is will help us more than pretending there weren’t streetlamps.”

Terry grimaces. The twitch of his battered face reminds Dick of his age and his heart aches. There should be a grace period for children, an exception made for those still new to this earth. He hates that pain is one of the first things they learn. “He was white, I guess,” Terry supplies. His good fingers have found a loose thread on the hem of his pushed-down sheets. He picks at it. “He never said a word the whole time. It was quiet. He — I saw his hands. I thought, I thought the police would find his thumbprints or whatever, on me, but that’s not how it works, they said. They were all fucked up.”

“The hands or the police?” Jason interjects.

Terry doesn’t look up from his loose thread, but one half of his mouth pulls up into a faint, flickering smile. It manages to be bright even so. “The hands. There were old scars all over the knuckles. Dry, too, like he never heard of lotion.”

Dick supposes the attacker could work in manual labor, but it’s unlikely if there were truly that many scars and all old. “Just the knuckles?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Dick guesses he’s experienced with combat. The ugly, close-up kind. Still, just the knuckles, that sounds more like punishment than accident. And the dry skin? That could easily be eczema, although wouldn’t a seasoned killer think to cover up, prevent skin follicles from falling into a lab tech’s hands? It is summer, but Gotham runs more humid than dry, so perhaps they’re dealing with a foreigner. “And the face?” he prompts. 

Terry abruptly drops his hand from the nervous thread and sighs raggedly. “Nothing, man. I couldn’t see anything, okay, it was,” Terry falters, “confusing.”

“Confusing how?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know!” Terry’s voice pitches in frustration. “It was weird, all swirly and shit.”

Dick can hear the criticism leak into Jason’s tone when he curtly repeats, “Swirly.” 

Terry backpedals. “I said I don’t know,” he mutters. 

Swirly voices sound familiar to Dick. He used to have one for a time when he played James Bond for Spyral. “I think we might have a contact, Jay,” Dick muses. 

“Really?” Jason says with noticeable surprise. “Swirly’s our big break?”

“Emphasis on the might and ixnay on the big.” To Terry, he says, “Tell me, does tsuchigumo ring any bells?”

Terry’s face scrunches up. “Does what huh?”

Dick will take that as a no. “Oh, well. Still worth looking into,” he says. Dick stands and retrieves the card pack from his plastic bag. He holds it up for Terry to see before setting it down on the bed. Terry takes it immediately and brings it up to his face for inspection. “Your mom has the flowers. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but let me know if you need or want anything. Oh.” Dick swivels his head around the room. There’s not much to it aside from a bed, a dresser, and a box T.V. collecting dust. “Do you have something I can write my number on?”

Jason chooses that moment to step forward, sliding between Dick and where Terry lies. He leans across, a crisp, laminated paper balanced between his index and middle finger. “Here’s my card. Let me know if you have any more information or if either of you need help,” he explains. Terry sets Dick’s gift down and gingerly accepts the card. He flips it over: no logo, just a phone number.

“That’s it?” says Terry. “What contact? Who did this?”

“It’s too soon to tell. I wish I had more to give you two,” Dick says sympathetically to Terry and Laura, the latter of whom hasn’t left her post by the door. She rests her cheek on the frame and watches on.

Terry has more questions though and he’s edging on excited. “Are you P.I.’s? Why do you even care? I bet you fucking did this, or one of your boys — ”

“I understand your distrust,” Dick says over him. He glances nervously at Laura to gauge what she thinks of the accusation and if she’s about to step in. She’s a little straighter, body no longer depending on the wall, but her face is still impassive if alert. Dick hurries to smooth this over. “You don’t know us well enough to understand why we care. We have to prove ourselves, I get that. And we will. Until then, you’ve got nothing to lose, right? All we know is you didn’t see anything.”

Terry stares at him silently, suspicion darkening his eyes. There is risk in coming here, of course, depending on how well Terry’s attacker can trace Jason’s footsteps. But Dick has already weighed the risks and he’s betting that Terry’s part is done here insofar as the criminal is concerned. Luckily, Terry can’t identify what he’s got to lose or how much he has told them between the lines, so the charges drop like that. 

There’s a few beats of silence before Jason starts fidgeting. “Yea-a-a-h, we’re going to go now,” he announces, pointing over his shoulder towards the window. Dick could cringe, he’s so awkward. 

“Thanks to both of you,” Dick says and smiles as warmly as he can. He trails closely behind Jason who shuffles towards the door, his body too tall and too broad to fit comfortably in the modest room. Unthinking, the pads of Dick’s fingers feather over Jason’s back as if to guide him forward. As Jason moves, Dick lets his fingers linger in the air, covering up the touch with empty space. He curls his fingers in and tucks them behind his back. Laura follows them out. 

“Thank you again,” Dick says at the door. “We’ll be in touch if anything develops,” he promises. And he will be; if not as Dick then certainly as Nightwing. 

Laura thanks them half-heartedly. Dick suddenly feels self-conscious about the Pokémon cards. He may as well have given them a box with nothing inside it or a flashlight without a bulb. He heads back to the car, feeling Laura’s heavy gaze on his shoulders the whole way. 

Dick is buckling himself in when Jason opens the passenger door. “Mind sharing with the class what information was so decisive you had no further questions?” he asks as he climbs into the car. 

“No questions Terry could answer. This is the best we can do for a lead,” Dick explains. He needs to make a call, but that will have to wait until they’re on the road and not idling outside a victim’s house. Maybe he can take them to a restaurant, buy Jason a drink, a friendly gesture. Would Jason want to drink with him though?

“Yeah, about that,” Jason says as the car shoots off, “what lead?”

Scratch the drink; neither of them are lightweights, but on principle, they shouldn’t drink during an ongoing investigation. Still, he could buy them some sub sandwiches. He used to buy food for Tim all the time back in the day, as a reprieve from the typical Batman and Robin style of accidentally fasting until the case is resolved.

They reach a redlight almost immediately. Dick drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Spyral uses this tech called ‘Hypnos 2.0.’ They slide in kind of like contacts? They’re eye implants basically, but they transmit information between your brain and the brain of whoever’s looking at you. Their most common application was hiding your identity. If someone looked at you, they’d just see a scrambled mess instead of a face.”

Jason’s face scrunches up as he stares out the windshield. He scratches his head. “Scrambled like Picasso or.”

The light turns green. “More like a spiral,” Dick says lightly, nodding conversationally. 

“Thematic,” Jason comments. 

“Very. And the uniforms weren’t too shabby either.” He adds the joke more to test the waters than anything, gauge how delicate a topic Spyral is between them. Everyone in their family has a slightly different relationship with Dick’s double life. Bruce and Damian’s have been the easiest, marked by faint curiosity about his activities and begrudging acceptance of help from associated colleagues. The others have been noticeably more dodgy and uncomfortable regarding for Spyral. Dick’s stint as as Agent 37 has made everyone evasive, even for bats. 

If Jason would normally have an emotional reaction to Spyral, he’s too preoccupied for one now. Dick can practically see the gears in his mind turning as his eyes narrow and his chin falls to rest on his hand. Dick feels simultaneously relief and shame; of course, Spyral is just a lead. Spyral may have been Dick’s life at one point, but to Jason, it’s just an organization. At best, contacting Spyral could save his life. At worst, well, Dick’s not expecting Jason to unpack whatever baggage Dick left in Gotham. 

Dick resists the urge to grimace at his own thoughts. He’s overthinking. Can one overthink a ruthless spy agency that up until a year ago controlled his every movement? 

Jason’s voice, slow and thick with the sound of a city that’s always been his, reels Dick back to shore. “Dare I ask what the uniform entailed?”

“Cargo pants,” Dick answers simply. He’s watching the road ahead, but he can hear Jason make a pleasantly surprised noise. They pass a fire hydrant painted to look like a sunflower. Dick thinks it’d be nice for Bludhaven to do that and makes a note to push the idea at city hall after the case. 

“So, you think that this guy is from Spyral?” Jason asks. 

Dick shrugs. “That, or he’s connected enough to snag some tech. We should check first with the other two victims, see if their descriptions match up with Terry’s. If they do, it’s probably Spyral and not some low-grade black market street vendor. Nine of out ten optometrists do not recommend mind control contact lenses.”

Jason slams his hand down on the middle compartment. “Mind control?” he exclaims. When Dick glances at him, Jason’s expression is mostly shock with a sliver of what might be plain rage. But that would be an overreaction considering all the other crimes Spyral is guilty of. All the crimes they’re guilty of, especially Red Hood, although making that argument would be more trouble than it’s worth. 

Dick tries not to let Jason’s sheer judgment weigh on him. Dick has far more pressing guilt elsewhere to torture himself over. Still, it’s hard not to feel righteous rage on Jason’s behalf. He often forgets this part of Jason’s character, this abrupt sense of justice that powers him, but it’s no less prominent than it is in Bruce or himself. It might actually be stronger in Jason, a little left of center, but bleeding red nonetheless. Unfortunately, car safety dictates Dick not be on the receiving end of justice, so he replies as casually as possible, “Well, that’s what Hypnos is, essentially.”

“No way.” Jason points an accusatory finger that Dick sees from his peripheral. A street corner features a hot dog stand. Dick nearly pulls over, but the finger might kill whatever buzz a chili dog can offer. “Don’t ‘that’s-what-Hypnos-is-Jason- obviously ’ me. You just said it transmits info.”

Dick did not think his tone had come off condescending in the least. But if that’s what Jason got from it, then perhaps he missed casual and landed on dismissive. Bludhaven must be eroding his tact already. “Sorry. When I said it transmits information, I meant it as a blanket statement for everything it does. Hypnos can alter memories, which is more-or-less how the identity protection works, by modifying one’s memory of a face. It can send someone a location address or really anything you have stored in your own memory, which is helpful. It can also send orders.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s helpful, too,” Jason derides. He looks like he smelled something bad. Was Dick this perturbed by Hypnos when he first joined Spyral? He doesn’t think so. He had been so quickly embroiled in so many terrible things. What was a little crowd control in the face of cold, efficient, and constant murder? 

The guns. The feel of one is his hand like death itself, how they loomed in his bedroom and among his gear, beckoning him closer to an edge everyone wanted to push him off of. The guns had overshadowed all else for him. 

“Either way,” Dick carries on, “it’s unlikely this guy has his hands on Spyral tech without Spyral knowing something about him. They keep close enough watch over people that have nothing to do with them, let alone people that have access to their technology. He could be anywhere from an engineer to a passing contact, but he’s no ghost.”

“Terrific. Exactly what I need, a mind-controlling stalker from an quasi-omniscient spy organization hellbent running around on the streets of Gotham.”

Dick shrugs. “Gotham’s had it worse.”

“Have I?”

“I don’t know. Have you?” Dick retorts. 

Jason scowls. “Wouldn’t be my first assassination attempt, I suppose,” he concedes.

Dick perks up and offers him a grin. “And it won’t be your last!” he crows. 

Jason just stares at him, utterly perplexed. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is curled above his teeth in bewilderment. 

“Because you’ll be alive,” Dick hurriedly explains. “You know, like, woohoo!” He takes one hand off the wheel to pump the air triumphantly. 

“Woohoo,” Jason repeats hollowly. “Insanity.”

“What?” asks Dick. They will be coming up on the grinder shop soon. Should he suggest lunch to Jason or just drag him in? He’s leaning towards dragging. That seems more effective.

“That we’re all just living to hopefully get killed a day that’s not tomorrow,” Jason observes. 

It’s not more cynical than funny, but something in Jason’s tone — the utter resignation, perhaps — makes Dick laugh anyway. “Everyone on earth’s on borrowed time, really,” he says, not unhappily. Death hasn’t frightened him since he was young. Exposure therapy, he called it once during some Titans mission that feels a lot farther in the past than it is. “The reckless and foolhardy like us, we’re just more aware of it.”

Jason blows air out from his nose in a mix between a snort and a laugh. “And here I thought vigilante-types were less aware of their own mortality.”

“Are you kidding? You have to know you’re walking towards death to find that exact path each night. Snatched purses, drug rings, elitist assassins dressed as owls, fear gas and escaped convicts and murderous clowns — and we run right towards them with open arms,” Dick says, irony guiding his grin as Jason smirks back at him. 

“And open chest cavities, half the the time,” Jason tacks on. 

Dick nods fervently. “Yes, let’s not forget that,” he tries to say seriously, but laughter trips him on the last word. “I don’t know. I think it’s all very sane, actually, to see what’s going on and get involved, do what you can to make everything a little bit better. But too much sanity can look like insanity, for sure.”

Jason does snort this time. “Keep moralizing like that and you’ll sound straight out of a conversation between the Joker and B.”

Dick wrinkles his nose. “Ew. I hope not.”

“‘We’re the same, you and I,’” Jason croons in a wispy, sing-song voice. “‘Sane and in-sane.’”

Dick can make out the small, white-background-red-letters sign of Hester’s Grinders a few yards down the road. There’s just enough room before the fire hydrant — this one plain, chipped red — to safely park. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll keep my philosophies to myself. And so long as we’re changing the subject — hungry?”

Previous Chapter

[onyour-right]

Titans 2x07 review

I really enjoyed this episode. Tbh I’ve enjoyed most of the episodes this season, so what’s really new, lol. But here are things that stood out even more to me.

- Poor Jason. I like how the show portrayed the mental consequences of his near death experience, nobody can go through something like that and just brush it off. Curran did a phenomenal job, even when he was staring out the window I felt so bad for him, when he was getting blamed for everything and was near tears my heart broke, when he was on the ledge. Whew. This boy needs an apology from every damn body, and also maybe a hug or 5. I also like how he didn’t at all blame Dick for his fall, in fact he went on the defense when he thought Rose was tryna insinuate something. Speaking of Rose, I really liked their budding thing  until it went kinda south, but hopefully that can get rekindled. Funny how she was the ONLY other person who saw how bad he was coping with things. The ONLY person who actually tried to seek him out and see how he was dealing (aside from Dick, obviously)

- Dick. Oh, Dick Grayson. He too needs a hug or 5, because this man went THROUGH it. Ngl, his hallucinations of Bruce was sad but also kinda necessary. I think he needed to hit rock bottom, to hear those horrible, nasty things “Bruce” was saying, so that he could pull himself up and start over. That moment with Jason at the end was a sign of that, that instead of running away and closing himself off, he was honest and open. Now, do I think he literally killed Jericho, absolutely not, but I do think he may have played a bigger part in using Jericho to get at Slade than the others. 

- Kory. Honestly, she’s flawless. She can do no wrong. She owned all her scenes that she was in; when she was looking after Connor, when she was telling Eve to stop feeling sorry and actually do something *chef’s kiss* perfect. “Well why didn’t you just say so?” That line, that line and that grin, it was just beautiful. She’s the only adult in that place with actual common sense. I hope this is the start of a good friendship between her and Connor. I also like that she was one person who didn’t join the “let’s all take a massive shit on Jason” parade that seemed to be going on. Tbh I’m sure if she’d had just a scene with Dick one on one, she’d have been able to see that everything was not alright with this guy.

- WHERE THE FUCK WAS GAR? TAKING A NAP MY GODDAMN ASS. They’re really trying me, they are really trying me. You’re telling me that Gar at the very least wouldn’t be making sure Jason was okay??? After he felt so guilty last week? I don’t believe it, I don’t like it. Titans needs to fix up.

- Rachel annoyed me this episode. You see crosses on the walls of your bedroom, and the first person you think of is Jason? Then you use your demonic energy to attack him? Really? Really?! She needs to learn how to swallow that anger and control her damn self. -_-

- Hank, Dawn, Donna, they can all leave now. I’m sorry. You’re supposed to be the adults, and yet because one kid goes on the attack you all decide to piggyback off of it and blame the so called “trouble child”? How the FUCK was Jason meant to know about Hank’s drinking problem, or the friend him and Dawn lost, or the drink that GARTH USED TO GIVE TO DONNA. Y’all are dumb, dumb and stupid. They pissed me off so much, lmfao. 

- Deathstroke. I actually give him ratings. He’s not even physically in the scenes but yet his presence is still felt. That’s when you know you’ve got a good villain tbh; when he’s not even in the episode, but he’s still fucking shit up.  He is playing them all, and the worst part is they don’t even realise it. That is why he won last time and that is why he might win again. These guys are not a team; they’re just a bunch of people who so happen to have powers and live together, there’s no communication and no trust - two things that are essential. Even Rose was saying to Jason that at least he actually tried to do something, at least he was attempting to go on the offensive. The rest are just chilling, waiting to react, taking the knocks as they come. 

ALSO an important moment, and one that really only struck me through a conversation on youtube : the woman who Dick was talking to in the burlesque place, Maddie Metisse, is the woman who has been cast as Blackfire. Which means that Blackfire has arrived on earth and is looking for her sister, it might also mean that she’s been working with Deathstroke this whole time. I’m so excited y’all, shit is beginning to happen. 

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

Title: from dust, arisen Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne (also ft. Dick Grayson and Tim Drake) Summary: When Jason is fifteen, he almost dies. Now, he grapples with the life he still has. (Jason Lives AU) (ao3)

I...got tired of opening this periodically from my incomplete Google docs over the past two years so...here we go. Will (maybe, hopefully) turn into a series of vignettes. Timeline is intended to make as much sense as possible but...comics. 

When Jason is fifteen, he almost dies. It takes half a year to recover fully, his breath rattling against broken ribs and raw throat. He was protected, mostly, from the blast and has only minor burns, but his right arm is broken and so is his left leg, his shoulder dislocated, he needs stitches in multiple places, and he’s covered in bruises. He has a concussion, too, but he’s alive, and he almost wasn’t.

He’s confined to his bed for weeks. Bruce and Alfred hover. Dick’s there sometimes too. He feels suffocated, near the end, but mostly he’s too exhausted to care.

When he starts getting bored and antsy, Dick brings over video games and movies and little 5lb weights.

“I can only use my one arm,” Jason tells him mournfully. “The right one is already smaller. I can feel it.”

Dick makes a face at him as he wiggles the fingers on his left hand. Says, “Well it’ll just have some catching up to do when you get that cast off.”

“And 5lbs are for babies,” Jason adds.

“Guess you’re a baby,” Dick says and sticks his tongue out him.

Neither mention he’s still sore enough that he can’t lift even the 5lb weight for very long.

But he can handle a control with his cast, so Dick tosses him one and they race cars and beat up bad guys and aliens and shoot terrorists. Dick even, Jason swears to God, brings him over some dumb as shit Harvest Moon game.

“For when I’m not here,” Dick tells him. Because when he’s not here Jason reads a lot, but there’s only so much you can read, and he alternates between being restless, bored beyond imagining, and, well, kind of depressed.

(Jason beats it and saves his damn stupid farm three times before his bed rest is over; his cows love him.)

Mostly Jason is just glad Dick isn’t looking at him like he might still drop dead at any minute, all furrowed eyebrows and blank faced like Bruce or downturned, concerned lips like Alfred. Dick laughs and jostles Jason’s shoulder, gentler than he would ordinarily, but at least he knows Jason isn’t going to fucking break.

Jason gathers that Dick is staying at the Manor again but he’s still fighting with Bruce. They rarely visit Jason at the same time, and when one comes in, the other gets all tight and excuses himself after a few minutes. Jason suspects they’re fighting about him.

He doesn’t ask. Dick doesn’t say anything.

They don’t talk about what happened.

********

Jason begs Bruce to let him back in the field for a month. He gives it some time, after he’s up and about, goes to his physical therapy when his casts come off, but Bruce still says no. No. Flat. That’s it.

Jason trains harder. He knows he’s not 100%. He knows he’s chubbier, slower, that he’s out of practice.

He knows Bruce doesn’t trust him anymore.  Not after…

It only takes a month for him to get fed up with being left behind. He sits in the Cave as Batman leaves, pretending to look at the notes of the case Bruce has left him. A consolation prize, he rolls his eyes. Something shiny to distract him.

He waits a half an hour, and then gets ready. He realizes, quickly, that he doesn’t actually have a Robin suit anymore. He flinches, thinking about fabric being ripped from deep wounds, from its tattered remains Bruce didn’t know he’d seen.

He shakes his head and regroups. There’s always one of Dick’s old costumes. Jason’s…not sure he’ll fit in any. His weight has fluctuated so much over the past several months, as he weaned himself off pain meds, got his appetite back, sat around unable to do anything, threw himself back into his work-outs as soon as he could, got told off for working too hard when he was still in recovery.

Besides, Dick has always been slender. At fifteen, Jason isn’t done growing, but he’s already almost as tall as Dick and a little broader.

He could always go out in his civvies and a mask, but—

--the Joker can’t take Robin from him.

Batman actually falters when he sees Robin. Almost gets hit in the jaw for it, but recovers in time to duck. Jason jumps. They’re only some low level thugs. Small fry. He could have been helping all along.

He tells Batman so. Batman just looks at him for a long time. Long enough Jason wants to fidget, but he doesn’t. He holds his head up, clenches his jaw. Defiant. He can wait out Bruce.

Batman turns and walks away. But he doesn’t tell Jason to go home. Jason follows.

He guesses it’s a start.

********

“He’s stuck in that moment where he almost didn’t get to you in time,” Dick tells him seriously.

He’s come to Dick’s apartment because Batman is suffocating him. He swoops in when Robin doesn’t need him to, nearly breaks the jaws of thugs who so much as say the wrong thing to Robin, follows him too closely. Jason’s going to go insane.

He’s turning sixteen tomorrow. He almost didn’t make it.

Dick shakes his head. “You know how he doesn’t let go of things. I think part of him is going to live in that moment forever.”

Jason’s learned about watershed events. He wonders if Ethiopia is theirs. His and Bruce’s.

“Why are you packing?” he asks abruptly, because he’s interrupted Dick. “Are you moving back home?”

Dick looks guilty, fiddles with the shirt he’s holding bunched up in his hands. “Not exactly. I’m going back to New York.”

To the Titans.

“Why?”

Dick shrugs. “It’s time,” he says. “And I’m failing anyway. Waste of time to stick it out.”

“You’re smart,” Jason snaps. “Fuck, Dick, you’re a detective. How are you failing?”

Dick gives Jason a look. A little surprised at his venom. Jason is too. Finally, he says, “Not all of us our cut out for the college life, kid. Maybe I’m squandering an opportunity I’m lucky to have. But I can’t sit in class all day and not focus on a case I’m working. Or fall asleep because I was out late the night before and was only able to half-ass my homework in an all-nighter.”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he won’t look at Dick either.

Dick adds, “Anyway, Bruce is driving me crazy, too. Need some space.”

“You didn’t have to come back,” Jason says hotly. His face feels hot, too, and tight.

Dick reaches out and touches his shoulder. “You know,” he says, thoughtfully, when Jason looks up at him. “It’s not really the Titans if there isn’t a Robin on the team.”

********

Jason turns sixteen and Alfred bakes a cake and Dick comes over because he hasn’t left yet (because he maybe kind of sort of hasn’t told Bruce he’s dropping out yet either) and Bruce is looking at Jason in a way that he never has before (at least not where Jason can see) and Jason feels warm for the first time since Ethiopia.

********

He has to repeat tenth grade. Alfred suggests, gently, homeschooling for the year, but Jason’s missed enough time.

******** “I didn’t die, Bruce!” They’re on opposite sides of the living room from each other and Jason is yelling, his fists clenched, his face splotchy red. 

They’ve been going at it for a while, the room hot and Jason hot, when he finally says it.

Bruce draws up short, and the room chills, and Jason suddenly feels deflated. He clenches his fists, adds quieter, “Stop acting like it.”

Jason doesn’t give him a chance to walk away first. He storms up the stairs to his room. He packs a backpack and leaves through the window. He takes the motorcycle and makes it to New York before morning.

Dick doesn’t ask, but his mouth tightens. He feeds Jason leftover pizza and lets him sleep in his bed. Jason snags a few hours, but he wakes to Dick’s hushed, tense voice speaking into a phone.

“No I don’t—obviously—well, I--,”

He gets up and pads over to where Dick’s hunched over on the couch, throws himself on the ground, leans back on his hands and looks up. Laughs a little to himself at Bruce being the one to do enough talking that Dick can barely get a word in edgewise.

Dick looks up and gives him a stressed little half smile. Mouths Bruce, as if Jason doesn’t know. Jason rolls his eyes to tell him obviously. Dick holds out the phone questioningly, and Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t feel as angry and restless as he did earlier, but he’s not ready to talk to Bruce just yet.

“Sorry, B, he’s still asleep. Yeah, we’ll just hit the City some tomorrow. He’s fine, I promise,” Dick sounds a little annoyed. “Go to bed, I’ll call later.”

Jason kicks Dick’s ankle in thanks and feels a little bad about how exhausted he looks. No one else is here, not even Kory, and Jason wonders if he really interrupted Dick in anything important. A local case or something.

Dick just raises his eyebrows at him. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck, no,” Jason says because he knows Dick won’t reprimand him for his language, like Alfred. And also because he really, really doesn’t.

Dick shrugs. “I’m going to bed then,” he says. He stands up and stretches.  Adds, “You should get some more sleep. I’ll take Kory’s room.”

Dick’s as good as his word to Bruce, and he takes Jason sightseeing in New York. They do the standard tourist things—see the Rockerfeller, the Plaza Hotel, the Brooklyn Bridge. They rent bikes and ride around Central Park. They sit on a bench and eat ice cream and look out at across the water at the Statue of Liberty.

(Jason turns down going to Ellis Island. He’s had enough family history to last a lifetime.)

Dick buys him bagels and pizza and soda and presses cash into the hands of the homeless they pass. He stops and talks sometimes, and Jason watches him. Envies how charming he is, how easy it all seems to come to him. Jason’s sixteen, and he’s not uncool, but he’ll never be Dick Grayson.

They go out into the city that night, as Nightwing and Robin.

The New York skyline is different from Gotham. It’s not their city.

Jason goes back to the Tower early. “So,” Dick says, mid-morning Sunday, over breakfast. Jason’s actually a little impressed with his scrambled eggs; they’re not Alfred level, but they’re pretty decent. “So,” Jason says back because he feels like Dick is evaluating him. Searching him for something. “So,” Dick repeats, rolling his eyes. “You can stay here as long as you want, you know--,” “But,” Jason prompts. “But,” Dick agrees, “I think you should give Bruce a call.” “I’m gonna go back today,” Jason says. He pushes his empty plate away, runs a hand through his hair. “I just needed some space.” Dick smiles sympathetically. “I get it,” he says, Jason tries not to let himself get pissed off because he knows Dick does, knows he and Bruce have spent too many years fighting for Dick to not get it but- -but he didn’t almost die. Because he’s fucking perfect. He didn’t screw up like Jason did. He doesn’t have Bruce breathing down his neck because he can’t trust him. Jason doesn’t say any of that, but somehow, Dick reads it on his face. He leans forward and Jason resists the urge to lean back. “Remember what I said before?” he asks. “About letting go?” Jason nods. Dick’s not helping. “Sometimes, and I know I’m a hypocrite for saying this, but sometimes, you do too.” Jason gets home after Bruce has gone on patrol. He lets Alfred feed him dinner, does a few rounds with a punching bag, showers, and goes to sleep. He wakes up in the dark, red numbers on his clock flashing 4am, a hand brushing the hair out of his face. He almost flinches away, but some part of his brain recognizes that it’s just Bruce and he relaxes. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bruce says, his voice a rough whisper. “’Sokay,” Jason says. He shifts, sits up a little, blinks blearily at Bruce. The fight from Friday lays between them. Bruce doesn’t apologize, but he pulls Jason into a  hug, holds him close. Jason doesn’t apologize, but he snakes his arms around Bruce and squeezes back.

********

He notices the Drake kid tailing Batman and Robin, snapping pictures of them, before Bruce does. He doesn’t see the kid every night, but when he does, he makes sure to do an extra special kick or flip just right or pause a little longer. It’s not posing exactly, but it’s nice to be appreciated. (And Jason won’t lie, he likes the attention.) Also  he’s a little curious to see how long it’ll take Batman to notice. Wonders if he already does and is ignoring it for some reason. It’s not like the kid ever lingers for long or isn’t as sneaky as possible, but Batman is, well, Batman. Jason finally gets a chance to talk to him about a month after he first starts noticing him. Jason’s by himself because, after their fight, he and Bruce are trying this new thing where Bruce lets him go off solo. At least a little bit. Because Jason’s sixteen now and not a kid and he’s not going to— The kid is startled when Robin drops down in front of him. He stumbles and Jason has to reach out to keep him from falling. “So what?” Jason asks. “Journalism class? You the next photographer for the Gazette?” The kid flushes and says “Oh my God” and “I’m sorry” and “Do you think he’ll be mad?” He’s stuttering over his words, and Jason finally takes pity. Says, “Chill out, I don’t care.” He sits down, swings his legs over the edge of the building, leans back on his hands and looks up at the kid. “Your parents know you’re out here?” He hesitates, then admits, “They’re out of town.” “Oh,” Jason says. He gets it. “Just for work,” the kid adds defensively. “They’ll be back.” Jason digs around in his belt and offers the kid a granola bar. He hesitates then takes it. After another moment, he sits down too, away from the edge. Jason leans back on his hands and looks at him, appreciates his mask lets him study without coming off as creepy. Kid’s scrawny, shivering in an overpriced jacket, can’t be older than 13, a giant ass camera hanging around his neck. He breaks the granola bar in half and offers the bigger one to Jason, who takes it. “What’s your name?” Jason asks finally. “Tim,” he says back. Glances up quickly, then back down. Back up again and blurts, “I’m glad you’re back. I wasn’t sure you would be.” Jason doesn’t say me too or me neither, but he wants to.   “You look familiar,” Jason says. “Have we saved you before or something? That why you president of the fan club?” “No,” Tim says absently. “But I’ve been to some galas at Wayne Manor.” There’s a pause where Tim’s eyes widen and Jason stiffens. Then Tim scrambles to his feet saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and Jason leaps up and grabs his arm, demanding, “Who are you and what do you know?” They both still and Tim draws in a deep breath. He lets it out and Jason notices he doesn’t look scared. Nervous, maybe, a little, but not scared. He says, “I figured it out. Who Batman is. A few years back. Well,” he backtracks, “I figured out who the first Robin was and then…everything fell into place.” Jason doesn’t admit he’s a little impressed. He lets go of Tim, sure he isn’t a threat and won’t run. Asks, still a little suspicious, “How’d you do that?” Tim gets this little half-smile on his face and he says, “The quadruple somersault.” “Yeah?” Jason asks. “How’d you make the connection?” “I watched two of the only three people who could do it die,” Tim says. Jason does some quick mental math and says, “No way in hell you remember that.” Tim huffs. “Well, I do,” he snaps. “It was one of the best days of my life. I was with my parents and they managed to let me meet up with the Flying Graysons before the show. They took a picture with me. I didn’t forget.” They’re quiet for a long moment. The moon is almost directly overhead, bright and full. “Are you going to tell him?” Tim asks finally. He slides a glance sideways at Jason, who doesn’t know if he means Bruce or Dick. Jason shakes his head. “Not yet, at least.” “I should go home,” Tim says, but he’s looking down, scuffing his toe across the roof, so Jason says, “Yeah, me too.” They start to part ways, but Tim turn again. “I really am glad you’re back,” he tells Jason. “He was…different without you. It was kinda scary. Batman needs Robin.”

******** Jason can’t get that out of his head. “He was different…it was kinda scary.”  He turns the words around in his head over and over again, until he can’t sleep, thinking about it. He asks Alfred about it, after two days of thinking. Sidles up to him while he’s making sandwiches and soup for lunch. Bruce has to go in for a WE Board meeting (“On a Saturday?” Jason asked horrified and Bruce shrugged. “Guess it’s important. And I maybe missed it on Wednesday.” He winked and was gone.) He takes the knife without a word and starts to cut the sandwiches so Alfred can stir the soup. Tomato basil. “How was Bruce,” he asks abruptly, keeping his eyes focused on the sandwiches, “when I was hurt?” Jason hears the spoon stop stirring, can feel Alfred still next to him. A moment later, the spoon picks up again, slowly. It’s another moment before Alfred clears his throat and says, “He took it very hard. We all did.” “Oh,” Jason says. He keeps looking at the sandwiches even though he’s finished cutting them. He looks up when he feels Alfred’s hand on his shoulder. Alfred is looking at him with fondness and sadness and something else Jason doesn’t know what to call but it fills him up so much he feels tears pricking at his eyes. Alfred cups his face and his hands are warm and wrinkled and soft despite all the labor he’s put into this house over the decades. He says, his voice low with purpose, “You are very dear to him. To me. To Master Richard. I hope you know that.” Jason nods and Alfred lets his hand drop. Gives Jason’s shoulder a pat and says briskly, “Now let’s see about lunch.” He doesn’t ask Dick because he thinks Alfred has sugarcoated or lied to him. It’s only that, he has said very little and he loves Bruce differently than Jason does, the same way he loves Jason—they’re not blind spots, per se, but there’s some sense of duty, some sense of needing to protect. Dick is quiet for a long time when Jason asks over the phone. Jason starts to get antsy, wishing he had gone in person to see Dick, to ask. Finally, Dick answers, almost reluctantly, “He was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. I thought—for sure, I thought he’d—you know.” Jason does know, but it makes him furious Dick won’t even say the Joker’s name, won’t say what Bruce wouldn’t do. “He would have deserved it,” Jason says savagely and is surprised out of his anger when Dick agrees, quietly, “Yeah. He would have.” There’s a long pause and then Dick adds, “But it wasn’t just him. B was…it was to everybody. A petty thief same as the Big Bads. It was like—it was like he really did. Lose you. And I didn’t—I wasn’t enough, then.” “Oh,” Jason says.

********

Jason doesn’t see Tim again for a while, worries he scared the kid off. He stays true to word, doesn’t tell Dick or Bruce, but he does keep an eye out for him.

When he doesn’t see him as Robin, Jason starts looking for Tim in school. He isn’t actually sure they go to the same one, it can’t hurt to keep an eye out. He doesn’t see him around the high school classes, and, remembering how tiny the kid is, Jason slips into Gotham Academy’s lower school during lunch and spots him right away.

Tim flushes when he notices Jason zero in on him, but he keeps walking with his nerd friend, determinedly ignoring Jason. Jason doesn’t like being ignored. He saunters over and slings an arm around the kid’s shoulder.

Tim’s flush deepens, but he says, almost valiantly, “Uh, hi?” He waves his friend off when he looks concerned and then shoves his hands in his pocket, like he’s trying to make his tiny self even smaller. “Can I help you?”

“Just haven’t seen ya around in a while,” Jason says. He tugs Tim outside with him and adds, “Let’s have lunch.”

********

“Why are you spending so much time with the Drake boy?” Bruce asks one night. They’re in the Cave, still in tuxes from some charity thing Bruce has thrown. Alfred will be mad if he knows, but he’s upstairs, cleaning.

Jason shrugs. “Just a friend. He goes to my school. ‘Sides, everyone else at those things is boring.”

“Not me,” Bruce says and Jason yawns extravagantly. “Especially you.”

********

He wants to tell Dick first about Tim because it’s Dick who helped Tim figure it all out. When he calls to see if he can come up for a weekend visit, though, Dick is distracted, sounds off.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jason finally demands and Dick sighs. Says, “I’m leaving the Titans. I guess I’m moving back to Gotham for a bit.”

It’s good timing, Jason thinks, and immediately feels guilty. He tries not to feel giddy about Dick being back. Tries not to worry about Nightwing, who’s lost teammates and just sounds tired lately.

“To the Manor?” he asks and Dick says, “God no. At least, not permanently. I just…need some time.”

“I have a secret to tell you,” Jason says. “When you get back.”

“I don’t know if I like the sounds of that,” Dick says and actually laughs.

******** Dick takes to Tim right away and Jason tries to squash down any jealousy boiling up in him. It’s not Tim’s fault they’ve come into Dick’s life at different places.

******** Bruce finds out with Dick and Jason both playing mediator, but he seems more impressed than angry, a concerned furrow etching into his brow.

“His parents aren’t home a lot,” Jason tells him, as if Bruce hasn’t noticed the kid sitting in his kitchen, doing homework and eating Alfred’s cookies on a near-daily basis.

******** He watches Tim spar and they way he pores over notes Bruce leaves for him when Batman and Robin go out, and he calls Dick the next day. Asks, “How did you know?” He’s woken Dick up and all he gets is a muffled, “Whu?” “How did you know?” He repeats, more insistently. “How did you know when it was time to move on?” “From what?” Dick asks and Jason lets out a frustrated sigh. “From Robin, asshole,” he snaps. “How did you know?” “Oh,” Dick is quiet for a minute. Then, he says, “I think if you’re asking, you already know.”

********

Jason was fifteen when he almost died. He was fifteen when he took back Robin, sixteen when he and Bruce started figuring each other out again.

Jason is seventeen today, poised on the edge of growing up. He’s seventeen and he is giving Robin away. Tim’s hands tremble when he takes the proffered uniform.

“But it’s your birthday,” he blurts, and then, “Are you sure?”

Jason glances at Bruce, suddenly glad he’s run it by him the night before instead of letting it be a surprise. Bruce doesn’t smile exactly, but there’s something encouraging in his eyes, reassuring, and Jason says, “Sure I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You’re ready.” I’m ready.

“What will you do next?” Tim asks, voice softer, almost reverent as he gathers the Robin uniform close to himself.

Jason shrugs, but he’s grinning. “I have a few ideas.”

He does, too, scribbled down, sketched in a notebook. Because he is seventeen and he did not die and the world is open before him and he is ready for the world.

[amazingflyingdick]

counsel

WHO: Dick and Jason (@thatsjasonfkntodd​) WHERE: Wayne Manor 2.0 WHEN: April 4th, 2020 WHAT: Jason goes to Dick for advice. 

Jason: Jason sat on the shitty half-conversation he’d had with Roy for a couple of days. He hadn’t actually expected him to show up at his place, so when he hadn’t, he technically wasn’t surprised. It still left him with the question of what the hell he was supposed to do next. Just let it go? Start things up with Roy again and then just let it fucking die because he didn’t know what kind of answer he actually wanted and Roy wouldn’t tell him?

Though it went against absolutely everything in him to do it, he was going to have to talk to someone, and unfortunately the only someone that would be both eager to listen, knew Roy, and who Jason was at all willing to discuss his personal life with was...Dick. The thought of actually approaching him about it had ended up stalling him several extra hours because he loathed it. The alternative, though...the alternative would be just letting it go and calling it quits, and he wasn’t willing to do that yet. So he sucked it up and went to the manor only when he was sure that Dick would actually be there. He didn’t plan on bumping elbows with anybody else or staying for dinner or anything. He just wanted to get in, get some kind of damn answer, and leave.

He found him working and cleared his throat, hoping he would not come to fully and completely regret being there as fast as he expected to. “You got a few?” Dick: It was easy to lose track of time in the batcave, especially when Dick was focused on his work. As scattered as he could sometimes be on a day to day basis, when he honed in on something he was laser-focused and unwilling to stop researching until he found all the answers to his questions. A pile of files from the SCPD were sitting next to him. He had set them aside a while ago with the intention to take a break, but then he quickly started looking into Slade’s information again to see if anything new popped up or if Barbara might have left a note in the file. There was still nothing about his targets or who might have put out a hit, nothing he could locate in any database, and the lack of leads was making him nervous.

He wasn’t listening out for anyone, so he didn’t even hear Jason behind him and had no idea he was there until he spoke up. Dick looked over his shoulder and then rolled back a few feet in the chair, indicating to the one next to him. “Yeah. Unless you’ve been fighting with Damian or Tim,” he added dryly. It was a joke but also not. It was hard to navigate how to handle his brothers’ rivalry and Dick was fresh out of ideas, but still not ready to give up. It wasn’t impossible.

But this was about something else. Jason never came to talk to him about anything unless it was important. A little spat wouldn’t qualify. “What’s up?” He asked, making a face after taking a sip of his coffee and realizing how cold it was. Jason: “What are Tim and Damian doing?” As soon as he asked, he moved to backtrack and held up his hand. “Nevermind. Remembered I don’t care.” Even on a good day he wouldn’t have had time for that shit, and he wasn’t there on a good day. If he got distracted by some other mess he wouldn’t reel himself back in enough to return to his own, and he had to deal with it before he changed his mind.

Jason blew out an audible breath and went to pull over one of the other chairs from where it had been pushed aside. “I need to talk to you about Roy.” He decided to just rip it off like a band aid, rather than go through the small talk dance and waste time. Dick: Dick started to explain, but he stopped himself and just gave a heavy sigh. He didn't really want to talk about it either. After speaking with Bruce, Barbara, Alfred, Tim, and Damian, he hit his quota on the topic a long time ago. There was nothing Jason could add to it that would be anything but sarcastic or dismissive. Alfred was about as objective as it got and not even his advice worked this time.

When Jason didn't take the chair next to him he put his feet up on it instead. It wasn't a huge surprise this was going to be about Roy, especially since Dick just saw him the day before and he knew something was off. Roy opted not to talk about it when he asked, so he'd let the subject drop, but it didn't take a genius to figure out it was about Jason. "What about Roy?" Jason: Jason had, predictably, told no one anything. He’d assumed that Dick was at least aware that he’d seen Roy again, but he hadn’t offered any information, and since no comments had been made...he figured he may not know all of it. The thought of going through a whole explanation on top of the fact that he was there for advice, of all things, made him long for the grave again. For the twentieth time since walking in the manor, he regretted it, but pushed on anyway.

“I went to see him at the rehab place a few months ago, November or something. We hung out a few times, just...had food, watched shitty tv, whatever.” That was nothing. He pushed a hand back through his hair and leaned back further in the chair, pushing it toward one side and onto one leg. “It uh,” why was he pussyfooting around it? It was Dick. “We fucked a few weeks ago and more since. Apparently I didn’t follow up the way he wanted, so now it’s all,” he made a gesture with his hand, “screwed up, I guess.” Dick: Roy was someone Dick knew since they were both barely old enough to be taken seriously. Back then he was still Speedy. He considered him to be one of his best friends, so there weren't a lot of things they didn't talk about, but Jason was an awkward topic to navigate. Back when he dragged Roy off to rehab he'd heard some about what happened (most of it incoherent), but Dick had the feeling he didn't know the full story. He tried to approach the topic with Roy a couple of times later, even though Jason was his brother and it made them both uncomfortable on some level, but he wasn't going to force it.

That was going to be his policy this time, too. He didn't expect Jason to be the one to come to him, even though it made sense. He leaned back in his chair, his elbow propped on the table next to him, and was clearly unfazed by the explanation of events since it confirmed a lot of assumptions he'd already made. "Yeah, he told me saw you. Didn't say much more than that. So you followed up the wrong way or you just... didn't?" Jason: When he got next to no reaction by explaining what had been going on, he assumed Roy had said enough for Dick to put it together. It saved him having to deal with any kind of surprise and wait for him to get over it. He moved on quickly. “Wrong way. It’s not like I slept with him and fell off the planet. I’m not that guy.” And it was Roy, it’s not as if it was just some random person he had no connection to. “He’s spent the last, I don’t know, two weeks, just not being home, which is somehow my fault. It’s not like he said he wanted to see me regularly, or more, but me showing up when I can,” or when he wanted to, “is the fucking problem apparently.”

Jason hadn’t asked Roy what he wanted when he broke things off, and he’d own that, but what had been stopping him from speaking up for himself this time? Why was it on Jason to define everything when Roy was the one who wasn’t satisfied with what was happening? The more he’d thought about it, the more irritated it had made him. Dick: It put him at ease, kind of, to know that Jason didn't just panic and stop seeing Roy altogether, since that didn't sound like a salvageable situation, but there was a reason why Jason was here. Dick might not have heard anything from Roy directly, but he knew him well enough to speculate. Still, he knew he was only getting one side of the story. "That's the problem?" He didn't know anything about their relationship, admittedly, but somehow he doubted that was it. Somehow.

Both of them were awful at communicating in their own ways. Roy wouldn't talk about anything serious and Jason just acted like everything was nothing. Anyone could see that wasn't the best combination when it came to handling anything real. "Did you guys actually talk about it? What did he say?" Jason: “I don’t know if we talked. Words were said, loudly.” It came up, obviously, or he wouldn’t be sitting there with Dick. “He wanted me to tell him what I want. Like I’m sixteen and need to ask for a boyfriend.” He’d likely hit a wall with that with Dick, who was trying to get married, but he still didn’t see the point. It seemed juvenile and unnecessary and just one more potential complication. All he wanted to do was be with Roy. How was that not an answer?

He made an exasperated sound and ran both hands back over his hair before clasping then behind his neck. “I’m the one who went to him. Me. How is that not telling him something?” Dick: "Talking about what you want doesn't make you sixteen. There doesn't have to be a label if you don't want one. It's about... you know, boundaries, or whatever, and you talk about it so you know what's expected. Otherwise someone might do something and not think it's a big deal, like sleep with someone else." Dick thought not talking about those things was asking for more trouble in the long run, but he was no relationship guru.

"It says something, but not as well as you could if you just... told him with words. What's the big deal? Are you afraid it won't work out? Or one of you might not be able to do it?" Jason: “Why is it on me? He’s the one that wants something. If I’m thirsty, I’m going to ask for water and not stand around expecting somebody else to offer it to me and be pissed when they don’t. If Roy Harper needs something, why is it on Jason Todd to figure out what the fuck it is and then say it the way he wants it said?” Was it all because Jason had walked away? Ending things meant the rest of it was his to figure out and shoulder forever? That seemed like a bunch of bull.

He was already getting frustrated with the conversation and was talking himself in the same circle he’d been going in since he’d left out the window of Roy’s apartment. “You already gave me your whole dumb spiel about how it doesn’t matter if something doesn’t work and you’re happy just trying or whatever contrived thing you said,” he didn’t remember the precise wording when he’d questioned him about why he wanted to marry Tanya. Dick: "It's not just on you, but you're the one that left, so yeah, it is on you to make more effort. At least in the beginning. I'm not going to pretend like I know anything about what it was like with you and Roy, because I really don't, but I know plenty about what it was like after. Maybe you thought just showing up would patch all that up without you having to talk about anything, but that's obviously not working or you wouldn't be here."

Rolling his eyes, Dick crossed his arms and sat up more in his chair. "I just don't get it. What do you think is going to happen? The worst already happened, didn't it? To both of you?" At this point he didn't see what else there was to lose, other than pride. Jason: “I made more effort! I showed up and kept showing up. He wanted to know where I lived, I fucking told him. Has he shown up? No. So here I am talking to you,” which so far was yielding nothing of value.” Jason stood back up, restless already, and paced away from him.

The last question got a dry laugh from him. “What? You think dying was the worst?” Was that really what he believed? Jason had always had a problem with misdirecting anger. It had taken years of slow progress to come around to realizing that and catching it, usually belatedly. It was still his gut reaction most of the time, and it was right then. He had to take a breath not to round on Dick again when he’d not done anything except just sit there. Dick: It was hard to talk to Jason just because they were so dissimilar in every way possible, it seemed like, but that never stopped Dick from trying. He received the brunt of Jason's anger plenty of times and kept his cool, so he was prepared for that. If it happened. "He doesn't know how you feel and that's what you need to tell him. Do you... know how you feel about it? Any of it?"

Dick let almost a minute tick by before he said anything. "For you? No. I don't think that. Come on, Jay, sit back down." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and when he continued his voice was much quieter. "You can't just shut that part of you off because you don't think you need it. Or it doesn't belong. I mean, look at your doormat. You don't let anyone in, man. And whenever your emotions are compromised by anyone else, you either deny it, disconnect from it, or minimize it. You can't... cut everyone you care about out of your life just because you think that's what you deserve." Jason: He knew more or less what he’d already said. He’d never let himself quantify it beyond that, beyond just knowing that he’d missed Roy, and that felt better when he was around him. But he’d said that, and that hadn’t been enough. “I thought I did, but apparently not.”

It was a few long beats before he relented and walked back over to sit down again. “It’s not about what I deserve.” Well, not entirely. He couldn’t say that he didn’t question that, and he often had when his mind went particularly dark places, but that was not necessarily the heart of what made him hold Roy at bay. “It’s just...fucking exhausting to disappoint people all the time.” It was more honest than he typically was, aloud and certainly to Dick. Dick: Dick had dozens of conversations with Roy and Jason that resulted in some type of misunderstanding because of poor communication… or no communication, so it was difficult to know who wasn’t listening and who wasn’t speaking, but he assumed they were both guilty of it to a degree. Roy’s issues were different than Jason’s, even though there were some parallels he’d drawn between them that Dick wisely kept to himself.

“People are always going to want things from you,” he finally said quietly, looking down at his hands. “Things you won’t be able to deliver, even if you wanted to, but that’s different. Unavoidable. You just…” There was a way to explain this without discussing specific things. Some subjects he would rather leave untouched. “It’s like you don’t want to look beyond the moment because you’re convinced something’s going to go wrong. Having no expectations doesn’t mean everyone is safe from disappointment. Most of the time it just guarantees it, especially with someone like Roy. It’s not like you went in with no strings attached - but even if you did, someone always seems to walk away from those situations feeling hurt and disappointed.” Jason: “What do you mean, someone like Roy? You’ve known him longer than I have,” though Jason wasn’t sure he could say the word better considering Dick had not seen exactly the same Roy Harper than Jason had. He did read people differently, in any case. “What is he waiting on me to say? What are the boundaries? If it’s not a label, then what?” Because Roy had demanded something from him. He’d said honesty, but he hadn’t meant the kind of honesty Jason was offering. “What’s the terminology I’m looking for here to make this shit end?” He wasn’t trying to placate him, because Jason didn’t do that. He didn’t spare feelings or sugarcoat anything just to make people walk away feeling better, but he didn’t know what to say to Roy. Dick: “All I’m saying is that you’re both always waiting for the other shoe to drop.” They were both sensitive to disappointment, anyway, and even though Dick always thought they shared a similar reason for that, it was’t one he was going to express. He frowned at the question and considered it, leaning back in his chair again. It was hard to be specific when he didn’t really know anything but what Jason told him about the conversation. He could put himself in Roy’s shoes, which could be a mistake, but he didn’t think it would be.

It made him realize just how little guidance Jason had in this area to lack something that, for Dick, felt like common sense, and he wasn’t sure if he were angrier at Bruce or himself for that. “Tell him if you want it to be casual or serious. Say it’s more than sex or it’s not. If you want it to have sex with other people or not. If you love him, say it. If not, just… just don’t say anything about that. Cover the other bases. That’s it.” Jason: “Because the other shoe does always drop, and it’s usually a drop kick.” It wasn’t like he was cynical for no reason, or because somehow it was fun. Part of him envied Dick’s ability to just shake off the things that went wrong and keep moving, which Jason had never really been able to do. Not the shaking off part, anyway.

He shook his head, not in protest, but just resignation. “Fine. But you use that word too easy.” Love. That wasn’t the point of what they were talking about and he didn’t linger over it. Instead, he just raked his hands forward through his hair and ran them down his face. “Fine,” he said again, getting back up for the second time. Dick: Dick sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to change Jason’s entire philosophy in one conversation, but he was always tempted to try. The only thing he could offer was proof that he wasn’t going to eject Jason from his life and maybe, eventually, Jason would believe differently. Instead he just shook his head. “I’m about to kick you out of that chair.”

It didn’t surprise him that Jason would believe that, but he just shrugged. “Some people love easier than others. Wait." He reached for a notepad where he’d been scribbling notes from Slade’s files. “Do you need me to write this down? Are you going to forget? I’m serious.” Jason: “I’m already out of the chair,” he pointed out, shoving it toward Dick with his foot, “so it’s all yours.”

He immediately narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a moron. Yes, I can remember like four freaking sentences.” He couldn’t even imagine what an idiot he’d look like walking up to Roy holding a notecard like he had vows to recite. Dick: Dick let his feet fall off his chair to stop the other chair with it, his eyes narrowing, but then he nodded. "Okay." Tossing the notepad back on the table, he looked up at Jason briefly before casually turning back to the screen. "I can check in on Roy tomorrow, if you want." And Jason, too - not that he would say that. Jason: “He’s your friend. Do what you want.” Jason wasn’t going to ask him for that. It was bad enough that he’d felt the need to get advice from him in the first place and he certainly didn’t want to add a whole layer of mothering to it, but if Dick wanted to see about his own friend...it’s not like he could tell him not to, either.

Desperate to move on, he picked the first subject that seemed like some kind of transition. “Deathstroke’s in town?” He saw what Dick had been working on, but couldn’t remember any job popping up on the dark web or elsewhere recently that would bring a name like that into Star City. Dick: Dick already knew he would be checking on Roy (and Jason, in a less obvious way that he already had a good plan for), so he let it go, nodding as he selected a few subfiles. Everything was starting to look the same to him. He already knew this folder inside and out - but he kept thinking of the possibility of missing something, some tiny hint, and because he didn’t see it, someone’s life would be snuffed out.

“Yeah. Ran into him just outside of the SCPD. He has to be here for a contract, but I can’t find anything that might link him to any big organization. Not in recent years.” Tired, he sat back and rubbed his face. The exhaustion was getting to him because he felt it all of a sudden. His shoulders and head felt heavy. “So, if you hear anything…” Jason: “Maybe it’s personal,” he shrugged. Not that Jason had seen or heard from Rose in awhile either, but that meant absolutely nothing. They didn’t keep tabs on each other. She was around when she was around, and once in awhile they got in each other’s way or ended up finishing a job together, but it had been awhile since the last run in like that.”I’ll keep my ear to the ground. I think I run closer to his circle than you do.”

He was fine leaving it on that note. At least it didn’t feel completely like he’d just gone there for Dick to give him four multiple choice questions and tell him to hand the answers in to Roy. Dick: “What’s that supposed to mean?” It was a knee-jerk reaction that he would have caught, if Dick were rested and not still conscious because of Tim’s ridiculously strong coffee. He figured it out a second later and blinked, some of the tension leaving his body. “Oh. No, Rose isn’t here. I already checked. Sorry, this file has my brain all…” he made a gesture. “Scrambled. Thanks. Let me know, even if you think it isn’t important. I want to be the one to handle it.” That was what he told Bruce and he didn’t get any argument. Slade didn’t start out in Gotham. The way he saw it, Bruce didn’t have the right to make a move without him. Jason: Jason narrowed his eyes, but ultimately let that weird reaction go. Well, no. He didn’t let it go. He just didn’t comment on it. “Right. Rose isn’t here,” he agreed, running his tongue out between his lips. “I normally don’t say this to people, but maybe you should get some sleep or something.” Dick: Even if Dick tried to sleep, he knew this would be the only thing on his mind. He had to make at least some headway, or feel like he did, but he nodded anyway. It was true. "Yeah... I know. I'll head there in a little while. The coffee's wearing off. I have no idea how Tim devours this every day. These coffee beans must be illegal." Jason: “Because Tim is a monster,” Jason said without missing a beat, though there was no venom behind it. He’d long since made his peace with Tim. When he’d started the long, annoying process of rectifying some of that misplaced anger he’d carried around, that had been one of his first stops. He ran a hand along the back of his neck and stopped halfway to the exit. “See you, Dickie.” Dick: Dick just shook his head a little in response, making a face as he finished off the rest of the coffee. When Jason said his name he looked over his shoulder and nodded, smiling a little despite how clearly troubled he was with the file. “See you later. Don’t forget to let me know what you hear.”

[sanjayyyy-13]

These Batboys gotta chill

Hi guys! This imagine was requested and I overestimated how fast I can type. So it may seem a little crappier than the other Batboy imagines. It is basically the batboys being protective of they S/O . I hope you guys enjoy and be sure to send in some requests!

Bruce: This guy is OVER protective of you. I’m talking, personal chauffeurs, body guards (when he isn’t around) and a tracer on you at all times. He has to be like this because he is a very wealthy business man who gets targeted all the time. You don’t love all this extra security and you can’t get a minute to yourself. But you appreciate it. There was a time you got “attacked” by somebody who was in love with Bruce, I mean who wouldn’t be? When he heard what happened he made sure they were apprehended and he hired a whole new security team.

“Bruce, it’s fine. You don’t have to press charges.”

“No. I won’t have this conversation. You could of gotten hurt or worse.”

“Babe, leave it”

“I’m not going to. I can’t live with myself if anything happens to you”

Whenever you guys are together he does not have to worry because he knows he can protect you because he’s Batman! However one thing that he does have to worry about is all the people trying to hit on you. Because damn.. you always be looking like a snack. Cue his resting “i’m going to kill you if you don’t back off” face. He’ll usually give you exactly 30 seconds to handle it by yourself. Usually that will make the offender back off but on the rare occasion it doesn’t, expect him to be extra touchy with you. It’ll start off with a arm around your waist and then him holding you against him. This will finally get the guy or girl to back off.

For example:

Some dude or dudette: “Hey there, I saw you looking at me across the bar and you are really sexy”

You: “Umm. Im sorry but I think you might have got the wrong impr-“

Some dude or dudette: “Whatever, can I get your number?”

Bruce: “I don’t think you let her/him finish. They were about to tell you to get out of here” *signature bat glare*

Some dude or dudette: “Oh um.. yeah bye.”

You: “I could of handled it, you don’t have to butt in to every-mmrgh” he cuts you off by planting a very passionate kiss on your lips.

Apart from his overprotectiveness this dude is pretty chill and I think he would let you have your freedom but still have you under a watchful eye.

Dick: Bro… he goes 0 to 100 real quick. He may seem all sunshine and unicorns but he has a dark side that is usually uncovered when he needs to protect you. For starters he hates it if you go out alone because you could get mugged, after all this is Gotham. This happened a couple of times but you do have a great right hook, so bye bye bad guys. You may have come home with cuts and bruises, he immediately started babying you and swearing revenge in whatever dick wads did this to you. He gave you a taser gun so you could get whatever shit you needed done faster. Even after teaching you self defense and equipping you with some weapons he still follows you from the top of the buildings during patrol.

The first time this happened you wanted to have fun with him so you sarcastically stated “Oh my god help! I’m being stalked by a spandex clad idiot”. He started laughing and dropped down in front of you. “Hey! I may be in spandex, but I am no idiot” he stated offendedly. Chuckling he pulled you into an embrace and gave you a kiss on your forehead. It was a cute and cuddly moment but got interrupted by a buzz from his comms. “I gotta go angel” he says into your hair. Sigh. “Okay, go kick ass my spandex clad idiot”. He scoffs and disappears into the night.

When you guys are out in pubs he always makes sure that you are next to him. His hand never leaves your waist throughout the night. But as usual some drunk dude comes around asking for your number. Dick won’t even allow you to say one word because he will already be giving threats to this dude.

“Ay ma lemme get that number!”

“Back off before I shove my foot up your ass”

“Jeez, chill. Yo girl you better restrain your man”

You usually have to hold him back from starting a fight with anyone who even glances your way.   (now all I can think about is him aggressively dancing and giving murderous looks to whoever looks at you… I’m dead) Sure, it’s cute but it gets annoying after some time because he never let’s loose afterwards however his love for you kinda cancels things out.

Jason: He’s a pretty chill dude when it comes to people hitting on you because he knows you can handle it pretty well. However he doesn’t tolerate it if anybody gets physical, for example if anybody touches you inappropriately and you are visibly uncomfortable. When it ever come to it he will stalk up towards whomever it may be and give them hell. First he will shoot them murderous looks from beside you or he will push them back and start a fight with them. Once it got so bad that the other guy ended up with a black eye and broken nose. Jason didn’t allow you to go out alone (at night) anywhere after that.

“Back off, they are clearly uncomfortable”

“Dude, chill they ain’t saying nothing”

“Get off of them before I punch you right in the nose”

And the rest is history.

Whenever he comes back from a long patrol and is exhausted he will be sure to collapse right on top of you and smother you with love just to make sure your alive because of the tragic things he see and experiences out there. His favorite position is with you sitting down and his head resting on your chest with your legs spread apart. This is because he can clearly hear you heart beating. There is no need to communicate, you guys are so in sync now that you know exactly how one another is feeling and what they need. (kinda like sims.. hehe)

Sometimes he has horrible nightmares with you becoming a victim to Jokers games. He always wakes up in a cold sweat and a beating heart, but when he realizes your steady breathing next to him he immediately becomes relaxed.

Since his job as Red Hood include making a lot of enemies and some may know his identity because he used to be “Arkham Knight”, he equips you with guns and knives. You have learnt a bunch of self defense techniques with his help and could pretty much become a vigilante. But he would never let that happen, you’re too precious.

Tim: When it comes to people hitting on you he wouldn’t even remotely know how to handle it. He’s such a cinnamon bun that he would let you handle it. Only if you ever really needed help and looked really uncomfortable will he become quite aggressive. Once you guys were at Bruce’s gala and a guy wouldn’t stop stalking you and you couldn’t really go anywhere without him needing to start a conversation with you. So Timmy boy came over and gave this guy a piece of his mind. After that outburst he immediately looked at you wondering if he handled the situation appropriately, but considering the guests expression it was a no. Honestly who the fuck cares because he took you both home for a comfortable night with Netflix and popcorn.

“Tim, thanks for that save back at the gala”

“No problem (Y/N), I will always be there to protect you”

*cue your cuddle session or make out session you preference*

Just like his brothers he make sure to teach you some fighting techniques and deck you out with some gear. He would always ask you to keep a tracer with you because he doesn’t wasn’t to ever lose you. He isn’t crazy overprotective like his dad but he still keeps a close eye on you. He makes sure that you get your freedom and free time but usually he becomes sad without his ball of energy near him all the time. But he always keeps your needs as priority numero uno.

“Babe, Im going out with my friends”

“Really? Now? Make sure to keep the tracer in you purse, don’t drink to much and take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything”

“Okay, mom”

“Seriously (Y/N), I need you to be safe”

“I will, I’m not the one who puts their life in dangerous every single night. Love you”

Damian: He’s just like his old pops when it comes to being protective. But he is so much more  stricter. He has a certain set of rules that he expects you to follow. This includes don’t go out late at night, carry a weapon at all times, make sure you inform him where you are at all the time, blah blah blah. Do you follow them all the time… hell no. Gosh you would go absolutely insane.

His reaction: He gets mad… whats new? You make it up to him and he becomes better. But he won’t let it pass if you brought it upon yourself. Like once you were mad at Damian and you went to a friends party at the club. You tried to make him jealous by grinding upon some poor innocent soul. First he locked eyes with you and gave you a warning. You ignored him and let things escalate, he walked over and that person almost shit their pants because Damian whispered some pretty scary things to them.

“Damian, I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N), you can’t expect me to forgive you. You completely betrayed my trust and did something that almost made me kill someone.”

“Look, how can I make it up to you. I will do any-“

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you are always safe”

Ugh he can be so infuriating and smart that it annoys you. But you can see the truth to what he is saying so you start following what he says as long as you can still have your freedom. Whenever he has nightmares about you, he usually wakes you up so he can talk about it with someone. Sometimes he may even break down crying and that’s totally fine but it’s so heartbreaking because he loves you so much and will do legit anything to protect you.

Tags: 

@oachi

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 70 - PIT - Better Days

We’re racing to the bottom at this point, right? There was a moment during this game when everyone live tweeting kinda realized: shit, they could be in 26th place by the end of the night! We already know this collapse has been historic but what if we became the first team to occupy first place and last place in the same season? Ottawa has to go on a run! You got to laugh, or you’ll cry, right? Six straight losses dealt just absolutely mercilessly to the heart of Sabres fans… or at least the ones who are still watching. The wheels coming off in February was one thing but this… this is some divine retribution. Is Mike Harrington actually God and he’s endlessly punishing the Sabres for the tank? Buffalo hasn’t scored a goal in three games! Sure, they’ve come close to a goal here and there but holy shit! You would think one would accidentally go in through nine periods of hockey but here we are! Can all the Jack Eichel haters climb back into their Chevy Suburbans and fuck off now? These two games have been Exhibit A in why Jack Eichel is crucially important to this team. Never mind his scoring touch, this team felt rudderless these last two games. They looked out of it from the moment Phil Kessel scored. JP Dumont and Danny Briere made a luxury box appearance at this game. Who didn’t get emotional at that camera shot? If not for nostalgia than the sudden fear of Jeff Skinner walking to Free Agency. That last Briere Sabres was the last one that won a playoff series. Mind you, the Sabres won the division three years after Briere-Drury but that last playoff win was almost twelve years ago. As the throngs of Penguins jerseys flooded into the Key Bank Center for this game John Vogl pointed out you would have to be no younger than 17 right now to remember the Sabres last playoff win. I don’t want to restate again and again how disappointing it is these guys didn’t coast into the playoffs this season but gee, I’m 24, I scarcely remember 2007. I was in Middle School calling sexual reproduction gross and certainly not paying attention to hockey! I don’t really even have a sense of what a good Sabres team is either! Now I don’t know if I’ll see it. I don’t know if they’ll score again, does anyone? This game was just a drag dragging a drag of a drag hockey team! Yuck.

The first period actually wasn’t a total nightmare. No goals were scored by either team but the Sabres looked like they were knocking. Moreover, one of the prime knockers was Alex Nylander! There is an alternate reality where that line of Casey Mittelstadt centering a line of Tage Thompson and Nylander is the break out rookie dynamo line backing up the Eichel line to the playoffs. I don’t mind that line starting right out of camp next season assuming they’re all still Sabres. Perhaps that’s your third line assuming new guys come in, but we’ll see. With that little dose of optimism has to come the heaping shit sandwich of some Phil Housley inspired insanity: the defensive scheme in this game was awful from start to finish. Look at any opportunity the Penguins set up and you’ll see what a basketball fan may call zone defense. I don’t know what the fuck to call it except terrible. That’s not how you beat this Pittsburgh team. We could’ve swept these fuckers in the season series for the first time in recorded history had we won, right? The last two games against these guys were defensive battles. We have a coach who is supposedly one of the greatest NHL defensemen ever and this is how he coaches the blue line? There was a decent powerplay for Buffalo late in the first but nonetheless Carter Hutton was just barraged with high-danger shots. I feel so bad for him and Ullmark; any blame they take for this is trivial at best. Sure, they haven’t but up November numbers lately but its clear they’re not the reason the Sabres are losing at this clip.

Shit started rolling down hill in the second period. Conor Sheary continued to play well against his former team as he was involved in probably ever other Sabres shot but none of his would go through this game. It was Phil Kessel who benefited from one of those back-and-forth split-the-defense plays to tap it in on the powerplay. I could’ve done without the hordes of Pens fans in attendance cheering after that goal. If Pens games are going to feel like away games now too than that’s one of our bigger problems as fans in the immediate future. Yikes. Rasmus Dahlin got a nifty little breakaway shot before the Penguins next goal but everything is sad right now for Sabres fans so that made me worry he’s frustrated in this situation too. Brian Dumoulin scored a goal that looked accidental. It was just an aerial puck on net, and it went in. That was just weird, unlucky shit. Then Patric Hornqvist’s goal a couple minutes later was preceded immediately on the Sabres broadcast by RJ and Rob Ray discussing how Hornqvist has made his career being a net-front guy. It was like a bad omen. It was spoken into existence. I didn’t bother with the third period; I knew they weren’t coming back from that and I’m a loyal fan, I sincerely am but this shit was so fucking played out. It felt like we were all in on the same joke only its one of those self-deprecating jokes you tell to appear likeable. Garbage. This game was garbage. Nick Bjugstad is a Penguin now and he scored a goal straight off the bench like he knows what fun hockey looks like. Eight minutes later at 18:02 into the third period Jake Guentzel cashed in on a deflection and the final score of this garbage dump game was 5-0 for the visitors. It’s official now: this is the second time in Sabres history the team has gone three games without a goal. The first time that happened was… pause for dramatic irony… last season. Poor funnel guy was so sober watching this game. The poor guy took a shot from the funnel at the end just for the hell of it, but you can tell he was fully cognizant of each and every shitty Sabres moment in this game.

I don’t know how to approach this team anymore. I suppose Eichel coming back next game and the raw desire to hold up Carolina on Saturday in anyway possible drives me but what are we really doing? 11 games left and no chance of a playoff berth: what are we doing? I for one have more or less moved onto the soccer season which, thank God, starts in March in America. I am more excited for Congressional committee hearings at this point than the next Sabres game. The Bachelor is over now too. Hmm… yeah, I suppose there is just another coming of that awful helpless feeling we’ve experienced too much the last few years. The Coach is bad, he doesn’t think there is a pride issue in the locker room but holy shit, just watch the games. The GM has signaled very subtly that change is coming but what that is and how effective it will be after we already had a wicked off-season last year is just a big ugly wildcard. Elliotte Friedman did a radio hit in Toronto this morning and confirmed what should be obvious at this point: Jason Botterill is not afraid to be aggressive and move some parts out come June and July. There are a bunch of wildcards with the big club and unless you’re getting real engaged in Amerks hockey like me right now, your hockey life might be quite shit right now as a Sabres fan. Hey, the Draft Lottery will happen on April 9th this year! That’s super early. I hoped the draft lottery wouldn’t be the most exciting part of Sabres life in April this season but here we are! Let’s hope Danny Briere came to this game to cast a spell to reverse the fortunes of the franchise again and ensure Jeff Skinner doesn’t walk in free agency.

I apologize to those of you who follow me for hockey takes and see me tweeting soccer now. I really appreciate your follow, sincerely I do, but that is for my mental health, fam. All kidding aside, it is humbling to realize the New Look Sabres blog has something of a following now. You brave few are a fun bunch and I appreciate you. Like, share and comment to get the word out on this weird little thing. I can’t help but imagine if you hopped on the Sabres wagon in September with me and rode through this first season according to my takes. For one, wow that’s a cool choice you made. For two, this season kind of feels like a microcosm of what this whole decade has been like as a Sabres fan: heartbreak around every turn but some fun times mixed in there that just gives you that little flash of better days that must be ahead. Ops, I said better days! The folks who remember the last decade of the Sabres just started balling their eyes out. This is probably a better time that not to wrap it up! Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. I want to apologize to Ben Mathewson: the Bruce Boudreau idea is a fun one. I did in fact get him confused with Randy Carlyle because of their similar faces.

[itispossibleihaveissues]

This Night Chapter 7

TITLE: This Night AUTHOR: Mikimoo RECIPIENT: tristen84 PAIRING: JayDick RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Off screen Non-Con, murder of innocent young people, violence

SUMMARY: The Red Hood and Officer Grayson are on the same case. A small misstep has far reaching consequences for them both.

Thank you to burkesl17 for the beta!

Chapter 1, 2 3 4 5 6

“No!” Jason said, as firmly as he could without yelling. He waved Dick's discharge papers at him for emphasis. “You're not going back there, you are going the fuck home to recover!”

“I can't leave this unfinished, Jason!” Dick had his most obstinate face on, and was using Jason's full name which always meant trouble.

“You're on leave, dammit. You'll be met at the airport for a full debrief with the FBI agents taking over the case, and then you will be flown back to the Haven or Gotham where you will be further debriefed and put on leave until you are fully recovered!” So maybe Jason was not doing so great at the not yelling.

“Fine,” Dick said, the jut of his jaw hadn't lessened even a fraction and the stubborn anger in his gaze was still going at full throttle.

“That doesn't mean you can come back as Nightwing either, Dick.” Jason growled, he could already see he was going to have to stake out the bullheaded jackasses apartment to prevent it. “If you even think about it, I'll tell Bruce you're not fit.” He waved a hand as betrayal flooded Dick's face. “Not the specifics, but enough that he'll bench you.”

“You think he can? I'm a grown man, I work with him now, not for him.”

“Do you? Do you really, Dick? If he says jump you'll jump and we both know it.”

Dick huffed loudly, like a surly teenager. “You know me so well, Jason?”

“Stop being such an ass about this, give yourself a break.”  

Dick looked like he was gearing up to really let rip, and Jason didn't honestly think he could handle it, so he made an effort to rein in his own temper. “Look, Just take a bit of time, then we will go in together, okay? I'll even play by your rules.” And he would. Mostly because he suspected Wilson was going to be pretty damn thorough with wiping out the Santa Prisca portion of  ZK12. That left the American and European parts – Jason was planning to have a hand in some of that take down, he just had to bide his time.

Dick rubbed his hands over his face then looked at Jason with slightly wild eyes. “I can't sit around and do nothing, Jay. I can't, I'll lose it.” He ran a hand back through his hair, tugging on it sharply. He was acting like a caged animal.

“I'm not saying don't do anything useful, Dick. I'm just saying that heading back to the Santa Prisca strong-hold is not going to be productive – if we send someone there it shouldn't be us, not now at least.”

“Why? We're the best qualified,” Dick insisted.

Jason took a calming breath. He wanted to go too, but he didn't want Dick to go. That meant he had to play a little dirty. “We're too emotionally involved, we nearly died.”

“Nearly dying is basically every other day for us, so don't give me that bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is, but what happened to you terrified me!” Jason burst out, unable to contain himself. “I thought you were dead multiple times and I don't want to fucking deal with it yet, okay? I know if I go, I won’t be fully on the ball and I am not going to give those fuckers the satisfaction of getting one over on me again!” He took a calming breath. “When I go after ZK12, I'm going to be prepared and I'm going to get them all.”

Dick looked guilty now, which wasn't want Jason had been aiming for with his sudden honesty. This whole conversation was exhausting him. “Dick,  just take a step back, what if our positions were reversed? What if, God forbid, it was Roy or Cassandra or Tim who had just been through what you have? How would you feel about them going back?”

“I would be afraid,” Dick admitted, after a moment clearly battling with himself. “I'd suggest they sat out until they were recovered.”

“Right. And then you would hare off and do it yourself. I get that. But I'm not asking you to stop trying to bring these fucks down, just leave the fighting part to others until you are back to full functionality. There is a shit ton of research to do – we need to get the entire organization, and we know very little about their operations in Europe. Let's do this smart, okay?”

Amazingly, Dick nodded and hobbled forward to snatch the discharge forms out of Jason's grip. “Since when did you get all sensible and shit?” he asked, signing the papers with a slightly shaky hand.

Jason was even more sure he was doing the right thing by preventing Dick from throwing himself back into this particular fight. He was still sick and emotionally wounded, getting him to take care of himself was going to be a challenge and Jason suspected it was going to be up to him. Whoopee.

“I've always been sensible, you people are the ones with dust for brains,” Jason said with a dismissive sniff.

“Oh, don't give me that, little brother,  I can list a bunch of times you've been an idiot or just gone completely loco. I mean, the whole Murder!Batman shtick was pretty bonkers, and that one time you blew a hole in the GCPD to get at a guy in the lock up, then murdered him in front of the damn cops.”

“I'll give you the times when I was actually out of my mind, big deal. And that guy abused four children that we know of so he deserved it. Other than those very specific occasions, I've been very sensible.”

“You set fire to a nun,” Dick said, smugly, as he took off towards the door with a wobbly gait.

Jason followed behind him, waving his arms in indignation. “I did not!” he said, hotly. “I set fire to some textbooks, the nun was accidental collateral damage, and it was just her habit that got a bit singed – no real harm done.”

“That makes it okay then.”

“Well, they never sent me back to that group home that's for sure,” Jason grumbled.  “How did you even find out about that?” It must have been from Bruce, the fucking traitor, although saying that – Bruce had been pretty forthcoming about the trouble Dick had gotten himself into during his years at the manor – the list of unfortunate incidents had been surprisingly expansive. He grinned.  “If it's a competition between us, I can remind you of a fair few occasions where you have my indiscretions beat.”

“Like what?” Dick handed over his papers at the front desk and leaned heavily on the wall, trying to pretend he wasn't exhausted from the short walk.

That didn't mean Jason was going to take pity on him. “When you were fifteen, you and Roy got drunk at a Wayne Charity Gala, and you pissed off a balcony and onto the guests having a smoke round back.”

“That was Roy's fault!” Dick had gone a very fetching shade of pink.

“As I heard it, from Bruce, you knew exactly what you were doing. You managed to get a direct hit on Mr. Slate, the man responsible for signing the papers that had given the CPS permission to take you away from the circus and then for placing you in Juvie instead of  proper foster care. So, tell me again how it was an accident?”

Dick looked sheepish, “I was was angry and drunk enough I probably would have done worse if Roy hadn't talked me down.”

“Harper being the voice of reason? Wonders will never cease.”

“Sort of reason, I did still piss on a bunch of people.”

“Sounds like something I would have done, to be honest,” Jason didn't bother to hide his admiration.

“You didn't have the monopoly on teenage angst and problems with rage, Jason. I was just lucky enough to survive mine.” Dick winced at his own words and a frown began to form on his face again.

Jason wanted to reach out to him. He wished he had known that younger Dick, really known him rather than what passed for their relationship a few years later. They probably would have burnt the manor to cinders or razed the city to the ground, but it would have been cathartic - misery loved company after all.

“Well,” he said, ignoring the shadowed look on Dick's face. “Your worst offence by far was when you crashed Bruce's 1954 Bentley when you were twelve and he grounded you for life. You should still be grounded.”

“I thought because it was old he wouldn't miss it as much!”

“A classic Bentley, Dick, practically vintage! And you murdered it, that's sacrilege in car terms.”

“Who did Grayson murder?” Ruiz joined them, still bruised but looking much better than the last time they had seen her.

“Bruce Wayne's car, a beautiful, beautiful car,” Jason told her as Dick stepped forward to give her a tight hug.

“Don't be such a sap, Grayson,” Ruiz said, her eyes suspiciously bright. “We have a long road ahead of us.”

“Yeah. What are you going to do? You can't return to work while this is on going, it's too dangerous.” Dick told her, repeating the exact thing Jason had just spent forty minutes arguing with him about. The man was clearly born to drive him crazy.

“I don't know,” she admitted. “My family have gone to stay with my mother, so they are safe for the moment. I can't allow them to be at risk, but I don't want to give up this fight either. My superiors want me in witness protection, but we don't know if even that is going to be safe, they have people in the force.”

“I know,” Dick said, unhappily. “Look, maybe I can pull some strings, get you out the country for a few months. Both the FBI and Interpol have an interest in this case and keeping you alive to testify is going to be crucial for them.”

“And how will you do that, Grayson?” Ruiz asked, sharply.

“Bruce Wayne has a lot of influence and a lot of cash. And he is going to be grateful you rescued his son,” Jason told her.

“Which son?” she shot back and Dick's eyebrows climbed so high they disappeared under the ridiculous fall of his hair.

“What's this?” he asked.

“I told some bad guys I was Bruce's illegitimate son in order to stop them shooting me.” Jason shrugged “I'm not, by the way,” he told Ruiz.

“Hmm,” Ruiz said, clearly unconvinced. “You're something to him though, and to each other. You don't risk the things you risked just for an acquaintance.”

“He would,” Jason jerked a thumb at Dick, who scoffed at him and made a face.

“So would you, you  hadn't even met Ruiz and you helped me go back for her. At least I have the excuse that it's my job.”

“It's mine too, In a manner of speaking.”

“You're both idiots, is what you’re telling me?” Ruiz said, with a wry grin.

“Basically,” Dick agreed with an easy smile that was mostly real.

“And you both know each other from Bludhaven?”

“You are a relentless woman,” Jason sighed. “Yes, we know each other, have done for awhile – I guess you could say I'm a PI, like Dick said, so our paths have crossed professionally. But we also know each other via-” he scrunched up his nose trying to think of a good description. “Mutual family,” he finished at last.

Ruiz looked perplexed. “Okay, I'm not sure if that makes sense or not, but I’ll take what I'm given, for now.”

They headed towards the hospital entrance, where men in suits were waiting to take them to the airport. Jason really hoped the cover identity he and Dick had cobbled together for him held up under scrutiny. The internet connection had not been the best, or the most secure. Luckily they had access to some emergency pre-prepared electronic paperwork, provided for all of them by Alfred and Babs, to use when caught on the fly. Hopefully it was good enough to at least get them back to American soil.

 They landed back in Gotham International at mid morning a few days later. All the debriefing had been grueling, but their story had held up. Neither they nor Ruiz had spoken much about the torture, just about the drugs and vague descriptions of beatings. They had agreed to keep Wilson's name out of it, just described him as some sort of private contractor fighting against the cartel who had helped them in the hopes of gaining information and cash. The story overall had been a little shaky, and there were some agents who clearly knew they were leaving stuff out, but the three of them held firm and stuck to their story.

Now it was time to go home and start recovering a little. That and put things into motion to get Ruiz to safety. She had balked at coming to America, but Jason figured they could negotiate with her to stay for a few months, or go somewhere else – Mexico or South America perhaps. Either way, they would make sure they had people to keep an eye on her wherever she ended up.

They stepped off the small private plane that had been provided for them to find Alfred waiting by one of Bruce's big grey cars, the winter sunlight hitting the bonnet like fireworks. Jason was torn between relief at being home and trepidation of having to face his family, even if it was just Alf.

He hesitated, he didn't want to keep his feet moving towards the car. either did Dick it seemed, he was tense and practically vibrating with anxiety as their boots hit the tarmac. And Jason couldn't leave him.

His warped sense of guilt and his over-protective instincts were going to fuck him up. But there was no way around it that he could see. His need to be there for Dick in some undefined way was going to take him right back into the jaws of his past, which was the last place he wanted to be after the few weeks they had just had.

“Hey, Alf,” Dick said, with a tight and unconvincing grin. “Thanks for picking us up.”

It was clear the fake cheer wasn't missed, as Alfred nodded a greeting. “Master Dick, I'm glad to see you home in one piece. Master Jason, a rare pleasure.”

Jason flushed and raised a hand in a half-hearted wave. He had not been prepared for this, he should have been. But he wasn't.

If he thought that was bad, sliding into the warm interior of the car and coming face to face with Bruce was like a nightmare come to life. For years he had dreamed of bumping into him while in his underwear or other awkward situations. This was way, way worse.

He froze, staring at Bruce's impassive face. Dick followed him into the car, still exchanging platitudes with Alfred. He had clearly expected Jason to have moved further inside and sat practically on his lap, making them both jump in surprise. Dick tumbled back out onto the tarmac.  Jason remained where he was, eyes no doubt comically wide.

Bruce looked utterly mystified, or at least there was a confused furrow in his brow which conveyed as much.

“Dick?” he asked, “are you alright?”

The deep rumble of his voice, so totally different from Wilson's smug tones, made feeling crash into Jason like high tide against the rocks. He was usually so much more fortified for any meetings with Bruce – but now he was so raw from everything that had happened, he felt like just being in the man's presence could break him apart.

Dick's head appeared in the doorway, he was slightly pink from embarrassment. “Hey, Bruce,” He said, not meeting his eyes – always a fatal mistake. Instead he looked at Jason “What the hell, Jay? Move up.”

Jason moved. Which left him facing Bruce in the broad interior of the car. He wished it was Batman there to greet them instead. He knew how he felt about Batman, wasn't so conflicted and full of doubt.

Dick slid in beside him and shut the door, taking a moment to fiddle with his seat belt, perhaps attempting to collect himself, as Jason was also desperately trying to do. He hadn't expected this either.

Bruce was impassive, but he was watching Dick carefully. He may not be showing anything on his face, but he was clearly cataloging Dick's slightly odd behavior.  Jason in turn, watched him for any sign he was going to do anything to upset Dick. Bruce often struggled to express his concern in a helpful or constructive way, and instead went for bluntness, irritation or flinty silence. Jason was aware that in this, he and the old man were very much alike, and he hated it.

“To what do we owe this honor?” Jason said into the awkward pause, forcing the words out and trying his level best to keep his voice nice and even.

“You fell off the grid for a week. First Dick takes off for work,” said with a surprising edge of scorn, "then I get the BPD knocking at my door saying he has been kidnapped, and to wait on a ransom that never came. I was concerned, ZK12 rarely return kidnap victims in good shape.” He didn't sound concerned, he sounded like he was placing an order in the World’s most mediocre restaurant. A clear sign he had probably been climbing the walls with worry.  

“Why didn't you come rescue him then?” Jason snapped in spite of himself.

“Because I discovered you had also gone to Santa Prisca, and I decided the two of you together could probably take care of things, or at least let me know if that wasn't the case. At the time I believed no news was good news and you were both undercover. Was I wrong?”

And wow, to be giving that kind of trust, even in such a backhanded way, was so huge, so intense that Jason wouldn't know what to do with it on a good day. This however was not a good day. He had completely and utterly failed to do anything Bruce had put his faith in him doing.

He was surprised to find there were still new ways to feel completely crushed.

He sat mute and wide eyed staring at Bruce with his mouth slightly open, like a landed fish. What the fuck could he say? Could he say anything without having a complete emotional meltdown? He honestly wasn't sure.

“No, you weren't wrong,” Dick said, his voice was thick, and he cleared his throat loudly. “I was careless and got caught, Jason rescued me. If he hadn't I might never have got out. They used a drug on me I'm unfamiliar with. We did have a look at the properties of it – Jason ran tests in the field to prevent side effects when he gave me antibiotics. We have all the data, if we run it through the computer in the cave I bet we can find trace hits in that people trafficking case from Gotham North last month – I wager that's what they were hitting the victims with and it wouldn't have shown up in any of the regular tests.”

And with that, Bruce allowed himself to be distracted. But Jason suspected it was only superficial, he was still watching them both very carefully. Dick was now making a good show of acting normal, but it had been a shaky enough start that Bruce was clearly suspicious. And Jason was acting far from normal too despite his best efforts, he was usually so full of piss and vinegar whenever they had contact that his silence was probably an even bigger warning sign than Dick's awkwardness. At least Dick could pass his off at embarrassment for his 'stupidity' in getting caught.

Taking the blame for what had happened was such a typical Dick thing. A month ago Jason would have sneered at it, mocked and berated him for his dumb-ass martyr complex. But now, he was covering for Jason's mistakes and not only that, he was blatantly forgiving them.

It was intolerable.

Suddenly Jason's skin felt itchy, like there were insects made of doubt and shame crawling all over him. He couldn't breathe in the damn car, he had to get out.

As they drew towards the intersection at 23rd and 12th Jason unbuckled his belt. Dick shot him a wide eyed glance, but before he could say anything, they stopped at the lights and Jason threw open the door, practically falling onto the sidewalk in his haste to escape. He heard Dick calling his name but he ignored it and took off as fast as his throbbing ankle could carry him.

He was running on instinct, down familiar alleys and side streets, vaulting the fence at old Martins place and twisting through the doorway of the abandoned grocery shop on the corner. When he finally came to a halt, close to one of his shabbier safe houses, all he could do was sink to the floor and try to breathe. He honestly couldn't deal with this, with any of it.

Fuck, Dick was taking things better than him. He needed a drink, but failing that, he needed to hit the streets and beat the fear and confusion out of himself.

 Evening found him pacing his safe house like a trapped beast. He was feeling terrible for abandoning Dick, and for the questions he had probably had to field on Jason's behalf. But the prospect of having to go to the manor to see him was not bearable, and unnecessary anyway. If he was there then he was safe and someone would be making sure he was looking after himself, but what was the probability of that actually being the case? It was far more likely he had gone home to Bludhaven like the annoying self sacrificing prick he was. And that meant that at best he would be moping and at worst, Nightwing would be preparing to hit the streets in an hour or so. And that was a recipe for disaster.

“Fuck!” Jason chucked his half empty can of beer in the direction of the sink. It wasn't helping anyway, and any more and he wouldn't be able to suit up and hit the roof tops, let alone drive to the Haven. Which appeared to be what he was doing, judging by the fact he was already out of the door, keys to his bike in his hand.

He justified it to himself as he drove, if Dick was there, he would need watching because he was a moron. If he wasn't in the Haven, then his patch was undefended and Jason would be more use there than Gotham, which tended to be rather saturated with vigilantes these days.

It was a completely logical course of action.

He decided to scope out Dick's shitty apartment from the roof of the chicken shop across the way rather than knock on the door. Most of the apartment seemed dark, except for the hallway and bathroom lights. He was fairly sure even Dick would have remembered to switch his lights off before going away on a long term mission. Probably.

He would just wait for a bit, and then head out, that way he could cover all his bases. Jason flipped out his binoculars and settled back to watch.

“Papa Bat teach you those manners? Spying is pretty invasive, you know,” Dick said, from somewhere behind him, making Jason  jump and cuss colorfully before spinning round to face him.

Dick was dressed in ratty sneakers, leggings and a big warm sweater. He looked like he belonged on the rooftop as much as Nightwing did, like he owned it. But he also looked like a slob, and leggings? Really?  Jason was surprised at the rush of warmth that overtook the embarrassment at having been caught stalking him.

“The fuck you wearing, Dick?” he asked, with as much of a sneer as he could put in his voice.

Dick looked down at himself. “What these? Running tights. They're warmer than slacks or sweats and  better for clambering on rooftops.”

“Uh huh.”

“Whatever, at least I'm not hanging around on freezing cold buildings and spying on people.”  

“How'd you know?” Jason asked.

Dick's lips twitched. “Lucky guess. Although if I'm honest, this is the second spot I checked.” He shrugged. “I figured you might want to check up on me, you've been bizarrely attentive since we got to the hospital.”

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, pointlessly. It was unnerving that he had been so transparent, even more so that he hadn't really noticed himself doing it. But he supposed all the hand holding and sappy shit had been a bit out of character.

“I have food inside, enough for two.” Dick pushed off the building he was leaning against and started towards the fire escape.

Jason was slightly perturbed he had apparently been such a sure thing Dick had even planned to feed him. He got up stiffly and followed. “You didn't cook it though, right?” He asked as he swung down after Dick, who was scaling down the building effortlessly, despite his bad leg. “I've heard tales of your cooking, none were complimentary.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dick said, “those stories have been greatly exaggerated. I'll have you know I'm a wizard with the microwave these days.”

Food was actually spaghetti bolognese, and although the sauce was mostly from a bottle, it was a  satisfying meal with the addition of mince and some frozen veg. The silence while they ate was companionable, and Jason felt at ease for the first time in far too long.

After dinner, Dick shoved the dishes into the sink and waved off Jason's offer to clean them, instead he ushered him through to the living room and sat on the big comfy chair, dislodging a small pile of dirty laundry and take-out menus.

Jason chose the sofa, which was relatively free of debris, he did find one of Dick's escrima sticks wedged behind the cushion, but that was the only offensive item. Dick flicked the TV on wordlessly, hunting thought he channels with a quiet determination. It was clear he didn't want to talk and Jason decided to give him his space.

“What horrifying show are you going to subject me to?”  he asked, as Dick failed to settle on a channel.

Dick looked relieved, like he had been expecting Jason to insist on talking about things. Like he would.

“Dunno,” he said, “maybe this documentary about mermaids?”

“Why the fuck would I want to watch that?”

“Because mermaids, Jason. Who doesn't love mermaids?”

Jason hid a grin and leaned back in his seat, shoving aside a stack of messy note pads with his socked foot so he could rest it on the small coffee table. Dick didn't seem to care about the abuse of his furniture and swung his own legs over the arm of the chair. Curling into his ridiculous sweater and twitching his feet like he couldn't keep still.

It occurred to Jason that although Dick had made a good argument for the leggings, the true reason for his choice of attire might be a little more complicated. They were the closest thing to his Nightwing suit in terms of strong figure hugging material he could possibly get away with. The suit was more than just a costume, it was wrapped up with so much self. A shield, a comfort, it represented strength and safety.

It was the same reason Jason was wearing his old battered body armor under his shirt.

Both of them were still struggling to deal with all that had happened and all that was to come, and Jason was genuinely concerned about what lay ahead for Dick, who followed in the family footsteps and tended to deal with the bad shit by ignoring it or self flagellating.

It was going to be a hard road, but right now there was a scene of calm, and Jason found himself enjoying the easy silence as Dick sniggered at the TV and jiggled his legs around annoyingly.

There would be time to deal with the crap tomorrow, or the next day. For now he was just glad they were both home safe.

----

And that's it for now! (sequels, prequels etc are in the works.)

Thank you for your patience, tristen84, I hope you enjoyed it! (only 4 months late this time!)

And thank you all for reading and for all the wonderful comments and kudos!