#Tim on purpose told Dick what's the point of older brothers if you can set them on Old Creepy Men

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Dick knows anger better than most.

Since the night of the circus it's been all consuming each day a test to see if he finally gives in. Hiding behind smiles and laughter.

His siblings especially test his control.

Not what they do Little Wing could flat out murder him and he would brush it off.

Every bruise, every cut he sees on his Robins forces him to breathe. So he doesn't hunt whoever did it.

He knows Jason understands or at least is aware he watched the fights that occurred between Bruce and him.

But only one sibling understands exactly what he would do what he could do with the right motivation.

He killed the Joker if it wasn't for Bruce the clown would be six feet deep and he wouldn't lose a wink.

He knows Ra's has had a slight obsession with his Baby bird, his baby brother.

He didn't realized how far it had went. What Ra had orchestrated what he had tried to take from Tim.

His baby bird laid it all at his feet. Those eyes that once were so full of light shining with unshed tears. Haunted in the same way Dick's are when it rains.

His little Brother who no matter what will always be under his wing.

Ra was dead before Tim woke up the next morning.

When he did he found Dick Grayson sleeping chair facing the door escrima sticks in hand waiting.

He made the mistake once of letting Tim fly by himself.

Never again will his Robin walk alone.

[audreycritter]

“He’s my little boy!” Dick roared. The fury was wiped off his face in the silence after, and he stumbled back, unusually graceless, as if the admission had been a physical blow.

For a long time, they stood on the roof without speaking; Dick, panting with wild eyes; Bruce, a creased brow and a startled hurt. They held each other's gaze, a silent challenge, and neither were willing to break it.

“Are you going to take him from me?” Bruce finally asked. Then, Dick dropped his head and took a long, slow breath through his gritted teeth.

“It wasn't a threat, Bruce,” Dick said, so soft and precise. He knew exactly how far his voice carried, and raised it not one degree above that.

“I…” Bruce didn't pace, didn’t run his hands through his hair or raise his arms. His body language was all in his absences, the things he didn't do. He did, though, lick his lips, and swallow, struggling for the words he wanted. He was precise in those, too, when he had time to be. Sometimes, when he didn't. “It wasn't a defense, Dick. It was a question.”

“You can't just give him up,” Dick snapped, raising his chin to glare. “He’s not a bargaining chip, or a concession, or a thing to give away. He’s a little boy and he’s your son.”

“I'm not trying to,” Bruce said evenly. Dick hated his ability to sound calm when he wasn't. “Let me be very, very clear. I'm just asking: what do you want?”

“I don't know,” Dick muttered, rubbing at his brow.

“I didn't try to keep him from you. I didn't send you away, even if he thinks I did.”

“He thinks what?” Dick’s tone neared a hushed shriek.

“What did you think he would think when you ran off?” Bruce demanded, a bit of a razor edge in his calm. “You didn't say.”

“You hypocritical ass!” Dick hissed. “You don't bother to explain things all the fucking time and now, the one time I--” he stopped himself with visible effort. “No. No, that isn't what this is about. I left because...because I knew I would be in the way. He needs time with you. He wants time with you. Why would you tell him you sent me away? All this time, I've been waiting and it's been kill-- it's been hard. That's just going to make it take longer to…”

He trailed off, his lips pressed together. His hands were trembling with the strain of keeping himself from pacing, shouting.

“I didn't tell him, Dick. He’s so sure of his place with-- of your love for him, that it was the only option that made sense, when he realized it wasn't a mission keeping you away.”

Bruce’s soft tone belied the tension in his posture. Dick studied him, carefully.

“You could have explained,” Dick said, the pointed jab clear and shining. The final word broke off, pronged to dig and stick.

“I didn't think it would improve things between us if I told him the truth. He would have seen it as criticism of you. It was an impossible situation and I chose the one I could mend alone, with an apology,” Bruce said.

“You should have told him the truth,” Dick snarled, crossing his arms. The wind, chilled since they climbed onto the roof from the attic window, picked up and caressed with an icy touch. “I worked so damn hard to get him to just trust me, to trust us. He’s not like Tim, B. He won't just keep letting it go.”

“I should have done a lot of things,” Bruce admitted, turning to look out over the darkening lawn. For the first time since he’d come back, he sounded old. Older than he should have, even-- there was something frail in that admission, something that hinted at shaking hands and walking canes and soft foods and lonely days full of regrets. Bruce took a breath, set his shoulders. “I should have lied to Tim less. There isn't an excuse.”

Dick shivered, and it wasn't the wind that made him cold. He wondered how many lifetimes Bruce had lived away from them-- how much did he remember? He hadn't even gotten to ask.

No, he hadn't asked. He hadn't asked on purpose. He’d left.

“I didn't want to get between you, like this.” Dick uncrossed his arms, and jammed his hands in his pockets. He shrugged a shoulder toward the window, though Bruce wasn't looking. “I wanted him to have the time with you that I did. That he had with me. But I don't think I did it right, and now…”

“What do you want?” Bruce asked. His voice was flat, gentle. It was the way he spoke to people waving guns, holding detonators, on ledges. Something about it said, I have no needs, no wants. The only thing that matters is what you say next.

Dick had learned that voice from him. Dick also knew Bruce would rip his own heart out and give it to Dick, if he asked. Dick opened his mouth to argue, to growl, This isn't about what I want, is the point.

Instead, he started crying.

The sob caught in his throat and then escaped with a quiet whine, and he’d done this enough times the past year to know there would be no hug. The arms he wanted around him were gone, dead and buried, and even imagining it made him feel worse.

Then, Bruce pulled him into a hug. Dick’s forehead tucked against Bruce’s shoulder, in the embrace he’d learned was gone forever and now had to learn again, and his knees buckled. Bruce held him up, on the roof, the slate tiles under Dick’s bare feet.

“I didn't want to share you,” Dick mumbled through sniffs. “I didn't want to leave him. I don't want us to be fighting.”

“I know, chum,” Bruce said softly, into his hair.

“He’s my little boy, Bruce,” Dick said, feeling torn in two. “He wants you. He needs you. But I miss him. I was all he had, and he was why I kept going. I thought it was going to be forever.”

“I know,” Bruce said, his hug tightening.

“I don't know how to fix this. I've been terrified of talking about it, about you thinking I wanted you to leave. I don't want you to be gone again.” Dick’s face was hot, and he lifted his head to feel the cold air against his cheeks. He sank to sit cross legged on the roof, and Bruce lowered himself to sit beside him.

They sat for a long time, watching the moon creep up into the sky.

“What would you have done if John had come back?” Dick asked, after the tightness in his chest and throat started to ease. He very carefully avoided looking at Bruce.

Bruce, leaning back and propped on his arms, sighed.

“I had nightmares about it, after Clark came back. I don't know.”

“Bullshit,” Dick said. “You would have handed me right over.”

“It would have killed me,” Bruce said. “But yes. He was your father.”

“There were times,” Dick said slowly, “that I would be glad they were gone, because of what I had with you. Because of what we had. And then I’d feel like a monster. I don't think I've told anyone that before, other than Donna.”

“What did she say?” Bruce sounded curious, but reserved.

“‘Sometimes, Dick, you’re an idiot,’ or something close to that. She was right, anyway.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Bruce said.

“Sometimes,” Dick said. “And sometimes I was just a confused kid, who had my life broken into two parts. There was a before, that I missed, and an after, that was its own kind of good.”

“It was good, wasn't it?”

“It is good,” Dick said. He tugged, two fingers on Bruce’s sleeve, like he used to when he was little, until Bruce looked at him. He knew he looked pleading and he didn't care. “Damian already has his life broken into before and after, Bruce. I don't want to make him go through that again. How do we...how do I...fix that. I can't be here and give it up, it'll confuse and hurt him. I don't want to take him from you, either.”

“When my parents were gone,” Bruce said, gaze flickering out to the dark lawn and treeline. “Leslie and Alfred had joint custody. They decided I should stay here. When I was fourteen, I went to stay with Leslie for the weekend and tried to sneak out to a party. I told her Alfred had given me permission to go with friends.”

“Mm?” Dick prompted, after the pause stretched on.

“She said, ‘You aren't going to that party, Bruce.’”

Dick’s smile, gentle and sudden, curved one side of his mouth. “Alfred had warned her.”

“We have to be on the same page,” Bruce said, looking at him. The look was piercing, and intense. “If we want him to feel secure, he has to know he’s going to get the same answer from either of us. You can't be his brother and his father at the same time, not like that-- if we disagree, it can't be where he can hear. It won't be easy.”

The relief was making Dick lightheaded. He would have agreed to almost anything, in that moment. “Easy peasy, B. We’ll just have to be you-know-who and you-know-who again.”

“I seem to remember a certain man insisting he’d outgrown that role,” Bruce said, a bit wryly.

“Maybe it fits again, for this,” Dick said. “I didn't ever grow out of being your partner, B. I just...got stupid for a while.”

“You weren't the only one,” Bruce said. He stood, and offered a hand to Dick. “Let's get out of this cold.”

“Is it making your old man joints stiff?” Dick teased, clambering up.

Bruce’s hand, heavy and large, cupped the back of his neck and pulled him forward to press a kiss to Dick’s temple. “You did good with him, Dick.”

He rubbed the tears out of the corners of his eyes with a knuckle and inhaled slowly.

“I don't think you know how much I needed to hear you say that.”

“I know,” Bruce said. “I’m someone’s son, too.”

[iwritethat]

Dick Grayson: Fine Cuisine

Summary: Fluff

• Dick is unprepared for a family meal but your offer your fine expertise and have the whole family asking questions about you.

Warnings: Mature language

A/N: Hello lovlies! I’ve missed you all so much, I hope this helps a bit and there’s so much more I could add onto this so please enjoy and lemme know how you all are~

>>>>—————————>

It started with a family dinner.

As many curious situations do in retrospect, but with a family of vigilantes whose relationship ties have frayed, intermingled and been resewn makes for more interesting get-togethers compared to most.

One thing they could all agree on though? Dick Grayson cannot cook.

"I can't believe that, they just assume it's going to end in a takeout?" Came your amused voice as you placed a coffee on your kitchen island that Dick was currently seated - or rather slumped at.

"It's because the last two times I've hosted something like this, takeout has saved my ass." The ravenette embarrassingly clarifies, voice trailing off toward the end and did his best to avoid looking at you.

Dick Grayson was technically a neighbour, albeit living a few floors below your more lavish (and expensive) apartment suite. After moving into the complex on the same day, you quickly excavated the common ground to build a solid foundation for friendship - as such, meet-ups like these became a regular thing, switching apartments each time.

"Then, I'll help you out." You proudly confirmed, gesturing to your grand kitchen which was the sole reason you’d brought the place - one of the many things Dick envied about your luxurious living area compared to the standardised version of his own, though on an Officers salary he couldn’t afford something like this.

"Ah (Y/n) no, I can't let you do that!” Came his instant reply, hands waving defensively as he adamantaly brainstormed another excuse. “Plus you'll be working that night."

"True, but that doesn't mean I can't set you up beforehand. We'll start tomorrow, I'll teach you a recipe."

———

As previously planned, Dick turned up at your door rather nervously even though he’d been around you many times - not once had he demonstrated a serious negative flaw to his character in order to impress you, but cooking was one of them and you were about to witness chaos that’d likely dispel any romantic inclination he hoped you held for him.

“Ready?”

“No.”

With a playful laugh, you rolled your eyes and pulled the male into your kitchen noting how he was likely tired from his shift at Blüdhavens Police Department earlier that afternoon so a good meal should do wonders. Maybe it’d give him a better nights sleep too? The acrobat never seemed to obtain many of those for some unknown reason, apparently it’s ‘too noisy’ in the city.

“Oh and you can host in my apartment, it’s bigger and I’ll have all the equipment you need. You already have a spare key anyway.”

“You’re really amazing, I don’t deserve you - y’know that?” There were deeper feelings involved in that seemily offhanded thank you, ones relating to his role as Nightwing and his past mistakes which all remained a hated secret from you.

It started well, Dick following along with ease and you concluded that he picked things up fast with how observant he was which sped up the process. The main course he’d nailed with your guidance and so, you decided to move onto dessert.

“Now we add cocoa powder to th-“ You’d froze, mouth open out of surprise with the substances dusting your lips, cheek and part of your left collar bone - the offender in question mirroring your expression, albeit holding back his laughter due to his colossal misjudgement.

“I - I didn’t think it’d go everywhere when I ripped the packet open...”

“You don’t ever rip the packet, you tear it gently!” Came your dangerously mischievous correction, licking the sweet substance from your lips before flicking the currently non-chocolate brownie covered spoon at him with flecks landing on the side of his face.

“Oh, it’s on!”

This ensued an all out war, the two of you ducking and dodging oncoming attacks as you danced around the kitchen island with varying results of accuracy until Dick decided to slide over the marble surface and capture you in his arms.

His embrace faltered slightly as your back hit the island during your feeble attempt to get away, finding yourself trapped between him and the cool surface too enthralled in the carefree antics to notice the proximity. A beat of silence passed once the atmosphere had settled, Dick releasing a breathy chuckle with his grip around your waist loosening slightly as you looked up with a victorious smirk - he took the opportunity to lean forward slightly as if testing the waters and careful to note any kind of reaction you replied with.

However, there was a lack of trust as all is fair in love and war, hence your devious reasoning to close the gap some more and with the softness of his warm breath dancing on your lips you swiftly leaned past his whilst dragging your tongue across his cheek. Dick pulled back instantly, a mix of disgust and offence in his eyes as you spoke.

“Needs more sugar.”

“I’m sweet enough as it is thank you, you’d know that if you’d have just kissed me instead of betraying me like that!” Dick wittily snapped back, admiring the melodious laughter that escaped you at his response.

“I’m sure you do, speaking of - these brownies should last until the dinner so you won’t have to make them again on the day alright? I’ll get everything ready so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I guess you’d taste pretty sweet too.” Though referencing your kind nature, you couldn’t help but lightly punch him in the shoulder.

———

Regardless of Dicks wistful prayers, the deadline had finally arrived and his family would be sporadically arriving in a matter of hours - so help him.

"All the ingredients are on the counter - do not use anything else - and I've detailed the instructions on the whiteboard in case you forget anything." You pointed to each item as you spoke, donning a jacket before barely making it past the kitchen doorframe due to your neighbours dramatically desperate pleas.

"Can't you just stay? And do it with me?"

"I have to go to work." You laughed at his antics, the man looking like a lost puppy amidst your vast collection of kitchen utensils.

"Work will survive without you, c'mon you wouldn't lose out on much - I'll even pay for the trouble."

That, truly caused you to hesitate with a look of sheer bemusement, a mischievous glint dancing in your irises that mocked his claim almost as much as your sardonic tone.

"If you truly knew my job and paycheck then you'd take that back.” With that, you were quick to flip to a more cheerful voice as you waved goodbye to a pouting Grayson. “Anyway, you'll be fine and tell me how it went once I get back~"

"Wait (Y/n) h-"

The slam of the front door echoed your departure leaving a Dick feeling more lost than ever, the kitchen seemingly quadrupling in size now.

Bruce arrived first along with Damian, Cass, Duke and Alfred. Then there was Tim who’d apparently travelled from Titans tower and finally Jason who’d sauntered in fashionably late as predicted but only by 5 minutes. Each baffled by the sudden change of location which only intensified when the host brought out plates of home cooked dinner.

"..."

"This... this isn't take out..."

"No, it's actual food.” Dick confirmed almost offended and words laced with a hint of underlying sarcasm. “That I made myself."

"Okay, so uh - is it edible then?" Jason quipped back, smirking at his elder brother in a smug manner that only he could achieve.

"Would you just eat it? I went through a lot of stress and effort for this."

Dick encouraging everyone as he sat down, the action only bemusing the members of his family more as they complied to his wishes with varying degrees of hesitance from each of them. Damian trusted Dick the most, but he patiently waited for his father to finish his mouthful before even touching his own dish.

"Wow, this is incredible, the flavour and everything - Dick what happened to you?!" Duke enthusiastically mocked and continued to devour the meal with a sense of radiance which contrasted to Cassandras pure silence as she savoured every tasteful mouthful.

"Grayson, there is no way you are solely responsible for this cuisine." Damian suspiciously raised a brow at the older hero, tentatively laying his cutlery elegantly on the now clear plate.

"Thank you, and maybe I had some assistance from my neighbour."

“Thank you for dinner Dick, it was surprisingly delicious and please give our thanks to your mysterious friend too.” Bruce knowingly added, proud of his protégés accomplishments - though minor in comparison to Alfreds glowing exterior.

“I told you there was hope Master Bruce.”

"Bro, they left a whole list of instructions so you wouldn't mess up and hey, call if you need anything. Sounds like a plan -" Jason, who had waited until everyone was finished explored your kitchen in hopes of finding some evidence as to who their saviour was.

"Jason no! They're working!"

"It‘s an emergency, you’ve been replaced by a clone with adequate cooking skills!” Tim wittily added once leaning against the kitchen doorframe to observe the scene with Damian inspecting the whiteboard before questioning it’s purpose.

“Why leave this if they couldn't answer then?"

"That's the point, she will answer and I don't want to disturb her right now. They've done enough for me already." Dick painfully sighed, strategically slapping Jason’s phone into the air and catching it with his other hand in one swift motion much to the irritation of the latter.

"Hold up - she?" Duke cut in now, holding his hands out for emphasis and subtlety fishing for elaboration.

"Are you dating...?” Jason hummed, taking a moment to analyse Dicks reaction prior to cementing his assumption. “No, but you want to, right?"

“We are not -“

“You want to date someone?” Cass innocently inquired now walking in with a pile of plates, Bruce and Alfred following in afterwards with clean up of their own.

“I mean I -“

“I’ve seen enough of your crushes to know you have one, you’re already flustered by thinking about them romantically.” Bruce effortlessly deducted, Alfred nodding in agreement whilst commencing the washing up.

“You can’t just call me out like that Bats, after everything with been through too.” Dick feigned betrayal, a hand on his heart whilst Bruce shook his head.

“Oh yeah, how long did he wait for Starfire and Barbara though?” Tim jokingly nudged Jason who chuckled at the small dig, though charismatic and charming - when real feelings were involved, Dick Grayson wasn’t one to straightforwardly act on them.

“Real mature guys.”

“I think you should tell her.” Was the sincere voice of reason, Cassandras kind smile enough to silence the devilish remarks of his brothers who now shrugged in defeat.

“We could help...”

———

Miraculously, you'd attained reservations at the most eloquent restaurant in Gotham, located in the more luxurious district of the wealthy. As a result, it served only the finest gourmet cuisine and had waiting lists longer than any other, so much so that even Bruce Wayne had yet to successfully book a place at the establishment.

You had given him the news when he’d recounted the events of his family dinner (skipping over certain discussions) and how they were grateful for your generosity.

Now, you'd asked Dick for how many he'd like seated at the table so you could finalise the arrangements - he knew you worked there, meaning staff privileges were likely applied in this situation but he was still left speechless.

Gawking at the skyrocketing prices, Dick now understood how much missing one day of work would seriously cost you - he definitely couldn't have afforded your time that night after all.

"So, you say you're paying for this?"

With a painstaking hum of agreement, the eldest nodded with a hint of concern detected on his features, fortunately Bruce had come prepared with his own credit card (just in case). Although his family could be provoking and frivolous toward one another, they were also respectful in situations like these and wouldn't run the bill up too high like certain members would if Bruce had been footing the bill. Dick had a charismatic bond with all of them in that sense.

Meanwhile, you handled everything in your kitchen of organised chaos as the orders came pouring in, including that of Dicks table who you had yet to formerly greet.

"This is cereal..." The head waiter meant it more of a question than a statement, looking to you with upmost uncertainty due to the simplicity of the dish compared to those on your signature menu.

Did they even stock Lucky Charms with the ingredients? The answer was no, you’d intentionally bought them purely for this very day and scenario.

"I know, I know - please serve it to my neighbour on Table 12, he'll get it." You humourously assured the man who seemed to have more to say but didn’t wish to argue with higher authority.

"Ah, Chef..." Your sous chef called moments later, overlooking the scene with mild skeptism before realising the nature of your scheme.

"Hm?"

"You do realise he is currently seated with Mr Bruce Wayne, don't you?" Upon processing that unprecedented information you immediately bolted - hot on the trail of the waiter with a weak promise in your wake.

"What?! I thought he'd bring his friends along not his- oh god, I just sent them cereal- shit, I'll be right back!"

With strategy and precision, you carefully intercepted the tray only seconds before it’d be placed in front of the empty seat of Dick Grayson - the man in question probably taking a bathroom break.

"Aha, pardon me, this was an incorrect order on my part, please forgive the interruption." You bowed with an apology, disappearing in hopes the remainder of the party hadn’t the time to fully decipher the mistake.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, this was a table full of detectives who constantly observed even the most trivial of details.

"Was that... cereal?"

The night followed on as planned, yourself wrapped up in cooking and supervising throughout the night with the only interruption coming from the waiting staff informing you that Table 12 would like to meet the Chef. Such a gesture was commonplace for you, customers regarded as strangers being much less intimidating than your neighbours family - you couldn’t comprehend why, it’s not like you were dating him or anything but their auras just radiated strength.

"Good evening, I'm glad to hear you -" Arriving at the table, you weren’t given the chance to finish before Dick had stood to greet you with a warm smile gently brushing your upper arm once deciding against hugging you out of habit.

"Hey, (Y/n). You didn’t come over this morning, everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine Dick I just had to readjust a menu." You waved his worries off with a grateful nod, hands on your hips in accomplishment as you expected to resume natural conversation with him.

"Okay okay, compliments to you, the food was immaculate - but how do you know our brother?" A youthful male bearing a white streak through his hair cut in, genuine sincerity in his tone when offering his praise before incredulously gesturing to Dick.

"He's my neighbour."

"I - he's a what now?" Duke shook his head in disbelief, looking between you both rather unconvinced.

"Are you kidding me Grayson?!" Tim was next, the most exasperated out of the whole table as he pinched the bridge of his nose whilst Dick quizzically scanned each of his company for insight.

"What...?"

"You got cooking lessons from one of the top Chefs in the whole damn country, you're friends with her, and you didn't even know who she was?!" The slimly built youth exclaimed, apparently knowledgeable in regards to the culinary world and had read of your famous reputation.

“(Y/n) (L/n) owns this restaurant Dick. Also, thank for the other week, the recipe was lovely.” Bruce politely added, nodding to you with a smile.

“You didn’t say that, you only said you worked here.” Dick turned to you now, in a feeble attempt to justify his lack of acknowledgment to your renowned status.

“Well, I do. In my defence you never asked, I mean my apartment and kitchen are rather fancy - that didn’t come on minimum wage.” You replied a matter-of-factly with an air of confidence to your voice.

"Are we forgetting that this is also the chef who was going to serve Richard cereal?" At the remark from Duke, a heated flush adorned your skin due to the embarrassment of being caught - the whole table breaking into collective chuckles.

"You were? - Wow that's such a dick move!" Dick was openly laughing at your failed attempt at humour, lightly nudging your side as you pushed him away in playful defence.

"Shut up! I didn't realise you were with your family, or else I wouldn't have done it."

Jason immediately waved that claim off, cheekily smirking at you as he spoke. “Oh no, I'm so glad you did, honestly it's the main reason I like you right now."

“That and you spared us the horror of Graysons cooking.” Damian conviently inputted, conniving grin sent to his favourite brother.

“You’re welcome, ah I apologise but I should get back to work so please excuse me. It was a pleasure meeting you all.” Taking a calculating glance over the expanse of exquisite tables and order exchanges you thought it best to return to your duties with a gracious smile and started toward the kitchen.

“Can I drop by tonight, I won’t be able to afford any thank you gifts after this but I’ll bring you a coffee?” Dick cheerily inquired, causing you to spin on your heel with a shy laugh and confirmation of his proposal.

“Don’t worry, this is my treat. You guys don’t have to pay for anything so enjoy the rest of your evening.” With that you were once again swept up into the busy atmosphere beyond the kitchen doors.

The table remained quiet for a few moments, Dick sitting down and looking to them almost as if searching for their impressions of you only to be met with bemused, impressed and mischievous gazes.

Not for you, oh no - these were shamelessly directed at a now enamoured Dick Grayson.

“Please marry her.”

[brucewaynehastoomanykids]

Damirae Week 2020 Day 6: Meeting the Family

"Damian are you sure this is a good idea?" Raven asked her boyfriend as she walked with him up the steps of Wayne Manor. "The last encounter I had with your father wasn't exactly the best."

When a certain older brother decided it would be a good idea to blurt out that Damian was dating his teammate at the dinner table, Alfred thought it was a good idea to invite the girl over, and eventually convinced Bruce to agree to it. Of course, all of this was done without Damian nor Raven's inputs, and the current boy wonder couldn't help but feel bad when he told his anti-social girlfriend about it.

"As I'm well aware," Damian sighed. "But I believe that spending time with him is in order if we ever wish to get over the whole 'Trigon' thing."

"Damian I don't even have to know him that well to know that he won't give in that easily."

"Worth a shot. Now," he stopped at the door and turned to face her, "my family can be a little... much."

"Judging from how you and Dick act with one another I can tell. It can't be any worse than my family life."

No matter how much he wanted to retaliate against her statement, he couldn't. He just sighed and stepped aside to the doorbell and pushed the small button.

The door opened to an older man with grey hair and a tux. From what Raven was told about Damian's family, she assumed this was Alfred.

The man gave a warm smile. "Welcome home, master Damian. I assume this is miss Raven? Or perhaps she would prefer Rachel?"

"Either is fine, sir," Raven replied lightly. "Though, it may be easier for you just to address me with my last name; Roth." She extended her hand to the older man. "I assume you're Alfred?"

Alfred shook her hand gently. "Indeed I am, miss Roth. Please, both of you, do come in. Masters Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim awaits in the dining area."

Alfred stepped aside so that the teens could enter. Damian gave a quick 'thank you, Pennyworth' before walking in with Raven walking closely to his side. Raven was new to the manor and had never stepped inside until now, so the last thing she wanted was to get lost. The two reached a large area with a long table that seated four people at one corner. Raven recognized Bruce at the end, and Dick to his right, but couldn't remember ever seeing the other two boys.

"It's nice to see you, Raven." Bruce smiled at the teen, though she could tell he didn't fully trust her still. She couldn't blame him though, her father did try to use her to destroy the world.

Still, she smiled back. "You too, Mr. Wayne."

"You know Dick, but I'd like to introduce you to my other two boys: Jason and Tim."

"Who's this?" A man who looked a little younger than Dick asked. He was wearing a brown leather jacket with a black shirt and leather pants.

"My name is Rachel Roth, but I usually go by Raven. I'm--"

"Wait, wait," the man put his hands up in the air, stopping her from speaking, "don't tell me you're the brats girlfriend?"

"Maybe let her finish her sentence, little wing?" Dick asked, putting his hand on the man's shoulder. "But to answer your question, yes."

"You could do better." The other unknown man said, taking a sip of what looked to be coffee.

This earned a chuckle from Dick.

Damian scoffed. "Normally I disagree with you, Drake, but you're right... she definitely could."

"Drake..." Raven repeated. "So I'm guessing he's Tim?"

"Bingo." Tim replied.

"And I'm Jason." Jason stood to shake the girl's hand. "But you can call me Jay if you want.

"Alright, Jay." She shook the man's hand, then went to shake Tim's.

"Please," Bruce said pointing a hand towards two empty chairs, "have a seat, both of you. Alfred should be out shortly with lunch."

The two birds took a seat next to each other. Though while Damian seemed more relaxed in nature, Raven was still slightly uncomfortable with the setting. She felt as though she was out of place and, honestly, wanted nothing more than to leave. Though it made her happy to feel that Damian was pleased she was getting along with his family, and it made her happy to know that that was what he wanted out of this.

The afternoon was filled with laughter and teasing jokes about the relationship with the most delicious BLT and cookies Raven had ever tasted. Overall, it was a peaceful afternoon. That was, until Bruce got up, seemingly to put his plate in the kitchen before whispering to her ear that he wanted to speak with her privately. Raven got up from her seat and told the boys that she needed to be excused for a moment. Damian gave both her and his father a questionable and somewhat concerned look as the two walked out of the room.

"You wanted to talk to me, Mr. Wayne?" Raven asked once they were alone.

"I just wanted to give you a little bit of an understanding statement of my thoughts. I figured you would rather it just be us to hear them." Bruce took a seat in a nearby chair and folded his hands together. "I want you to know that I personally have nothing against you, yourself. I may not be around you enough like Dick or Damian to know you well personally, but from what I have seen, I can tell you are a genuine person with a kind heart and good intentions, even if at times it may not seem like it. It's what you can do that worries me. I don't know if you realize this, Raven, but you're a very strong being."

"Sadly, it's all I've ever known, sir. Even on Azarath, I was constantly reminded of who my father is and what I could potentially do because of who my father is. My powers work off of my emotions. If I happen to strongly feel something and express that feeling, I could potentially kill millions. I have to constantly keep myself in a mellow mood because of this."

"I'm aware." Bruce leaned forward as if to get a better look at the girl in front of him. "I have my hypothesis, but I want to hear it from you: is it true that your father is trapped in that gemstone on your forehead?"

"Yes, sir." She replied sadly, looking to the ground. "Trust me, it's not as glorious as it looks, but it keeps Trigon locked away."

Bruce wondered for a moment if it would be too much for Raven if he were to ask the question that rang through his mind, eventually deciding that it would be better to ask for forgiveness later. "It hurts you to have him there, doesn't it? And I don't mean in a way where you feel guilty because he's your father... Raven... I'm sorry for asking, but, does he... say things to you?"

Raven went wide-eyed and silent before nodding slightly. "Yes."

"Would you like me to fix that?"

The girl looked at him in both shock and confusion. "There's no way you can unless I take it off and that would cause him to break free."

Bruce smirked. "You'd be surprised at what I can pull off."

"You would do this... why?"

"Simple: there's a possibility that one day you will be apart of this family for real, as a Wayne. And if that day does happen I don't want my future daughter-in-law to suffer. Besides, you make my son happy. And if you're not happy, it defeats the whole purpose."

Raven felt tears form in her eyes. "I don't know how to repay you, sir..."

"I think you giving my son a new sense of purpose is enough repayment." The man smiled.

Raven couldn't contain herself at this point. She flew into the man's arms and wraps her arms around him, taking him into a hug, repeating small barely audible thank yous into the man's ear as tears began to roll down her face. Nothing could take away the happiness she felt at that moment.

[what-if-i-imagine]

Can you write a fic about the bay us going on a quadruple date? Dick with Wally, Jason with Roy, Tim with Kon, and Dami with Jon. I just think that would be chaotic and amazing

I’m so sorry about how long this took to write but I finally got the boost of motivation combined with a free schedule to finish it!

Ao3 Link

“This is so boring,” Superboy I complained in a mumble beside Red Robin. They were watching the empty warehouse from the rafters laying on their stomachs, waiting like they had for three nights now. The fresh Sicilan air was something more similar to Gotham’s in the warehouse bogged down by the deaths that had happened in its walls as well as the unkempt state of it all.

“It’s a stakeout, what did you expect?” Red Robin asked his partner, glancing down at the watch he had brought. “If what we heard is true, they should be on their way here with the hostages. A family of three with links to a powerful crime family in Gotham.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Superboy I said, shaking his head. “Why did they go after this family? From the intel you gathered, they’re from either an Australian or Puerto Rican crime family with no links to the Sicialian Mafia or any of its criminal organizations. What would our guys want with them?”

“That’s what we are here to find out,” Red Robin replied before pressing his index and middle finger to the com by his ear. “Are any of you there?”

“Orical patched us in, we’re here,” Nightwing replied in his left ear. “Flash and I are in place.”

“Superboy II and I are also in place,” Robin said.

“Are you two sure you don’t want to go back to Red Robin and my hotel?” Superboy I asked, clearly worried for the two teenage boys. “We can handle this without you.”

“I can assure you Superboy, we have fought much worse than Siciilian crime lords without backup,” Robin assured without being reassuring. The boy had definitely softened in his older teenage years, but was still as prickly as ever when his skills were hinted at being doubted. If the job weren’t so dangerous, Red Robin and Nightwing might consider their brother’s behavior adorable.

“I told you to leave this case to me but you never listen,” Red Robin mumbled.

“And I believed Superboy and I were picking a different case. It’s not my fault we didn’t realize they were connected,” Robin huffed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“That won't be a problem,” Nightwing chimed in. “They’re here.”

“Just like you said Red Robin. There’s a family of three in the truck,” Flash said through the coms after a short whoosh of air. “Two fathers and a teenage girl. They all have bags over their head with their wrists and ankles bound, wrists in front of them.”

“Thanks Flash,” Superboy I said. “What else did you see?”

“There are four henchemn in the back of the truck guarding them. The crime lord we’ve been after is in the front with his second in command and the driver. They’re saying something about teaching them a lesson.”

“Probably referring to their family,” Red Robin explained. “We know these three are only pawns in their family's game. I doubt they would get the desired effect by killing them.”

“If they’re so important, they wouldn’t have been kidnapped at all,” Nightwing agreed. “But we could be wrong. These men could be more dangerous than we thought. We didn’t even notice all of this was the same case until we ran into each other in town.”

That was true, and Red Robin let himself consider it a moment.

He and Superboy had arrived in Palermo as Tim Drake and Conner Luther-Kent, under the guise of a vacationing billionaire couple. In reality, they had gone to Sicily chasing a case as their alter egos.

The case had seemed cut and dry enough. A small offshoot of the Sicilian Mafia had been creating drugs in a factory not far from Palermo and dealing them in Gotham. It was a next level drug that the Gotham civilians had taken to calling The Dust of Rome, as lame as it sounded, misdirecting the partners at first before Red Robin figured out the factory’s true location.

While outside of costume in town, they had run into Nightwing and Flash as Dick and Wally Grayson-West. Once in the safe confines of their hotel room, Nightwing had explained they had chased a gang of arms dealers from Gotham to Italy, and now to Sicily. It didn’t take long for them to realize they were chasing the same guy and team up.

That night while on their way to stalk the warehouse the second time for Red Robin and Superboy I, they ran into Robin and Superboy II who were the only ones there not working undercover. They had explained that they arrived in Sicily that day for the case Robin had chosen in place of the one Red Robin had taken. It was a case much simpler than the one the other four were following, just a gang stirring up too much trouble in Gotham that needed stopping, but none of them were blinded to the truth. Despite Batman and Oracle's careful checks of all three cases, they hadn’t realized they were all the same group.

There could have been more to it than they were seeing judging by the confusion it was able to cause among the three detectives, two kryptonian hybrids and speedster. Red Robin didn't pay it much thought though. As their brother said, they would burn that bridge when they crossed it (definitely not the best advice, but that was to be expected from the person who gave it).

Cutting off Red Robin’s thoughts was the opening of the warehouse doors. The comms went silent as everyone froze in their positions to listen in on the scene about to unfold.

The guards were half carrying half pushing the family of three into the middle of the wearhouse before they were roughly shoved to sit on their knees side by side. The guards each put a gun to the back of one of their heads with the last one standing at the end. The crime lord they had been chasing circled to stand in front of the family with his right hand man by his side typing away at his phone.

“Remove the hoods,” the crime lord instructed. The guards obeyed and pulled them off, tossing them to the side at the exact same time like a choreographed song and dance.

From where he sat, Red Robin couldn’t see the faces of the family. He didn’t think it was really important, but Nightwing’s sharp intake of breath told him otherwise.

“What is it,” Robin hissed in a whisper.

Before Nightwing could answer, the teenage girl threw herself into one of her father’s lap. Her sobbing voice echoed through the warehouse as she spoke in rapid, pleading spanish, too fast for Red Robin to properly translate.

The guard who had been holding a gun to her head roughly grabbed her by her red hair and pulled her back into a sitting position, shouting for her not to move. The girl continued to cry and plead, and her father who she had thrown herself over’s voice joined the rapid spanish. He wasn’t crying or pleading, instead yelling something to the guard. Red Robin was able to pick out enough to know he was yelling for the guard not to touch his daughter.

Something about the man’s voice sent off alarms in Red Robin’s head. It was familiar. Too familiar, especially when mixed with that fast paced spanish and biting tone.

“Papi,” the girl cried as she tried to go back to hiding in the safety of her father’s lap. The gun pushed against her head stopped her from moving, along with her father’s quick order.

“Mija don’t.”

“Papi, Papa, tengo miedo,” the girl blubbered through her tears, Her accent was off to Red Robin’s ears, raising another red flag. It seemed too forced, with a completely different accent being carefully covered up underneath.

“Let my husband and daughter go,” the man snapped, his accent purposely laid on thick. But Red Robin could recognize the hidden lower Gotham from a mile away in his sleep, even if these men couldn’t. “It is me you want, they have done nothing wrong!”

“You are not really in a place to be making demands Mr. Gunn,” the boss tisked.

“Pero, it’s time,” the man’s husband spoke softly. He had no thick hispanic accent like his husband and daughter, instead opting to take on an upper Gotham accent that almost reminded Red Robin of the people he worked with at galas during his daylife.

“Not like this,” Pero shook his head, chin meeting his chest.

“Papi,” the daughter whispered one last time.

Tim recognized the way the three had set it up. A question by one, followed by confermassion by the others through simply speaking in succession down the line. It wasn’t clever by any means, but for its purpose it was more than effective.

With what would be no warning from the gang member’s point of view, the three family members, who were in fact a real family but not the one they claimed to be, snapped quickly into action. Their bonds were gone in the blink of an eye with three of the gaurds’s guns now their own and said guards lying unconscious on the ground.

The husband, who was unnamed in the gangs' eyes, didn’t hesitate a second to disarm the last guard and shoot him in the knee while Pero and the daughter held the crime boss and his right hand man at gunpoint.

“This has been fun while it lasted Mr. La Rosa, but I’m afraid it ends here,” Pero said, now without the fake accent. “On your knees, now.”

The crime boss and right hand man obeyed the order and got down on their knees while the husband walked over with four pairs of cuffs of which each guard wore a matching pair on their wrists and ankles. The crime boss and right hand man were effortlessly stuck into them in the same fashion.

“In this folder is all of the proof of your trafficking that we need for you to go to prison for life,” the daughter explained, pulling out a manila folder she had pre stashed behind one of the crates close by. Her accent, just as her father’s, had slipped away into her real one. Instead of the masked lower Gotham of her father’s voice, she carried a mixture of lower Gotham and Russian that never failed to chill Red Robin with how empty and deeply emotional it managed to sound at the same time.

“When you wake up, you’ll already be behind bars for your crimes, and all those people will be free,” Pero said, before he and his daughter turned their guns around at the same time to harshly hit the men in the temple, rendering them completely unconscious.

As soon as they were under the belief that they were alone, the first father dropped his gun and cupped his daughter’s face, checking her for injuries.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked softly. His husband came over to stand beside them, gently stroking a hand through their daughter's hair.

“If doesn’t,” she reassured. “It was only a light tug, I’ve had worse.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve had worse,” the husband said in his original Star City dialect. “It shouldn’t have gotten that far. Next time we go undercover, try and use some of the self preservation skills we’ve taught you, yeah?”

“Yes dad,” she said, a smile clear in her voice.

“I’m impressed you didn’t shoot that guy for touching her,” Nightwing’s voice came as he dropped down from his hiding spot. The other five who had been hiding did the same, causing the family to whip around in shock.

“What are you all doing here?” Jason asked, not harsh but almost scolding.

“We should be asking you the same thing,” Red Robin said.

“We were closing a human trafficking case,” Roy explained. “Taking Scarlet on her first undercover mission.”

Nightwing looked over at Red Robin and he could practically hear the ‘I told you so’ regarding there having been more to the case.

“We have a lot to catch up on then,” Red Robin said, handing over a thick manila folder filled with all of the other six’s evidence they had collected. “Turn this in with your evidence. Not even the best lawyer money could buy can fight this. Meet us at the Rocco Forte Villa Igiea near the Permo bay when you’re done.”

~~~

“Of course you would go with the fanciest hotel you could,” Jason snorted, causing everyone to turn around. They stood in the lobby of the famous five star hotel, all now dressed in their everyday civilian clothing.

“We are a billionaire power couple, it’s what’s expected of us,” Conner shrugged, arm around Tim’s shoulders.

“So that was your cover story?” Jason asked, though it wasn’t a real question.

“It’s kind of hard to do undercover work when you’re famous,” Tim said. “I honestly expected better than Pero Gunn from you.”

“Flashing around my grandma’s name gets the job done quicker when I need to be kidnapped,” a grin tugged at Jason’s lips. “The Peter equivalent was just all Roy could pull out on the time crunch.”

“Speaking of, where is your handsome husband?” Dick asked with a slightly teasing tone.

“Dropping Sasha off at the airport. Oliver offered to babysit her, Duela, Biz and Lian while we were out of the country. We figured I could just text him the name of the restaurant when we got there,” Jason paused. “You are treating us to dinner, aren’t you? We did do your job for you after all.”

“I hate that you’re right,” Tim said with no real heat and a smile. “There's a great restaurant down the road I went to last time I was here, tell him to meet us there.”

“Great, I’m starving and all we’ve had to eat today was a salad and chicken nuggets from McDonalds.”

On the way to the restaurant and inside the waiting room, the four brothers and their partners caught up on life events they had missed out on, joking and chatting endlessly until they were seated.

“Sorry I’m late,” Roy said as he stepped up to the table. He was in his civics, in one of those trucker hats they all knew Jason barely tolerated. Dick had often joked about being surprised Jason didn’t try to go full Donna and burn all of them, but Jason always mumbled his reply that he married the man which meant he married the hats too.

“Sasha didn’t give you too much trouble at the airport?” Jason asked, leaning over to kiss him.

“Our little girl? Trouble? Never,” Roy grinned.

“Got it, so you both caused trouble together.”

“Speaking of, how have the kids been?” Dick asked. “Star City treating you nicely?”

“Weekly family hunts for corrupt capitalists and crooked businessmen that I’m free to shoot as much as I please,” Jason shrugged. “Yeah, I guess living in Green Arrow’s city has been nice so far.”

“Oh shut up you love it,” Roy said before turning to Dick, “It is nice being back in Star. The kids are loving getting to spend some quality time with my side of the family too, and Artemis has found some good work in the area. I can tell Jason, Ella and Sasha are itching for the Gotham streets though.”

“You can take the Gothemite out of Gotham but you can’t take the Gotham out of the Gothamite,” Tim nodded. “All three of them were born and bred.”

“Well Sasha was born in Russia, but basically,” Jason nodded. “I’m sure she was happy to see her favorite uncles, even if her actual favorite uncle and aunt weren’t there.”

“It would be insane if Duke and Cass ended up with the same case too,” Tim said. “It’s crazy enough all of us were working the same group without knowing it. Throw them, Steph and Chris into the mix and that would just be blatantly bad detective work on our parts.”

“Still would have been fun to have them here too though,” Jason shrugged.

“Wait a minute!” Jon’s face lit up. “Are we on a quadruple date right now?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian cut in. “I refuse to ever go on any sort of couple outing where I have to witness my brothers being disgusting with their partners.”

“No way Gremlin, this is totally a quadruple date,” Tim said. “You hating it cements that.”

“No, this is not a date, it is just a family dinner after an idiotically tangled mission,” Damian insisted.

“If it were a family dinner then Bruce, Cass, Duke and their significant other would be here too,” Dick said. “Sorry Little D, you need to face the facts. This is a quadruple date.”

“That’s an event to go in the scrap books,” Wally snorted. “Quadruple date with our out of six Wayne kids. It’d be a spectacle.”

“An event worthy of the circus,” Dick was smiling so wide his face was sure to split.

“I regret agreeing to this,” Jason said in a stage whisper to his husband. Roy chuckled while Dick squacked about Jason being on Damian’s side.

“Never a dull moment with these four,” Kon commented aside to Roy.

“Even two of them in a room is an event,” Roy agreed.

A pinched off piece of bread was tossed in Roy’s direction and he just laughed. They were surely disrupting the upper class dinners around them, but they couldn’t care less and they continued their impromptu date night.

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [11/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #haunting #paranormal investigator

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

Author’s Note: I decided to upload this today instead of tomorrow as I have a final paper due Friday and if I'm gonna concentrate on finishing it and not writing fanfic, I need to put this up now :P Enjoy the BatFam feels.

________________________________________________________________

 A day later and Jason is still stewing in anger—and, if he’s being honest—a bit of hurt. Even after reuniting, even after listening to what Jason had to say, and trying to get him to come home—Bruce still can’t be convinced to deal with the Joker.

Or at the very least stand aside and let Jason do it.

It’s like he’s trying to protect my non-existent virtue or some kind of innocence I never really had.

Does Bruce even actually remember him anymore? Or has he built up some false memory in his head that’s turned the boy Jason was into some clone of Dick?

The obvious, adult way of finding out would be to drive over to the manor and go for Round Two in confronting Bruce, but that’s a journey he’s not ready to take yet. Especially since the emotionally stunted man child that is the Dark Knight might take that as Jason coming to grovel for forgiveness, which just…no.

It’s decided. Jason will sit and sulk in his office and pretend Bruce and all of his Bat-drama doesn’t exist. He has work to do, anyhow.

The phone rings and Jason smirks.

“Like I said,” he tells himself smugly and picks it up, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. “Beyond Investigations, Victor Shelley speaking.”

“First of all, you have a really warped sense of humor choosing that as your civilian identity,” a familiar voice tells him, and Jason’s stomach flips a little as he nearly slides off his chair.

“Well, if it isn’t my esteemed former stalker,” he drawls, then winces because it’s not exactly his best line. “You can’t tell me it’s not funny, in the gallows kind of way.”

“If you wanted gallows, I’m surprised you didn’t go with Vlad Stoker,” Tim Drake remarks.

“That would be cliché. And Stoker’s overrated. Also, he once demanded all the gay writers be imprisoned, which ain’t cool,” Jason replies with an easy enjoyment. “But I doubt you’re calling to talk early horror literature with me. Gotta say, it’s the first time I’ve ever waited more than two days for someone to call me when I give them my number.”

Shit. That was a little more flirting than he intended.

“That leads to second of all,” Tim says, either missing the innuendo or ignoring it completely. “Care to explain why, after you asked me not to say anything to B about you being here, you ratted me out to him?”

That’s…not what he was expecting. Jason sits up, suddenly serious. “Ratted you out? What are you talking about?”

“He came back home after that thing downtown with Freeze yesterday completely shaken because he ran into you, and apparently you let it slip that I knew you were back and didn’t tell anyone.”

There’s more than a little irritation in Tim’s voice there, and Jason’s heart picks up a bit in worry. He thinks back to the encounter the night before, trying to figure out when he would have outed Tim. He can’t think of anything.

Then he remembers his parting words.

The blood rushes to his face.

If Bruce figured out he was talking about Tim with such a throwaway comment, he worries what else he might have inferred.

Don’t think about it too closely. Worry about putting Tim in his crosshairs.  

He groans. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Apparently I should have been the one asking for a week’s grace,” Tim goes on dryly.

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking,” Jason tells him. “Talkin’ to B always gets my blood pressure up, and then my mouth just starts to run.”

“No kidding.”

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

There’s a pause, and then, “No more than normal. A couple of years ago that sort of thing would have really messed with my head, but these days I can deal.”

“What happened a couple of years ago?”

Tim pauses again, and even though Jason can’t sense auras or ghosts through telephone lines, he’s pretty sure that the dark aura constantly surrounding the younger man is behind that.

“Let’s just say I learned that Brue can be myopic about certain things,” Tim says at last. “Either he’s entirely focused on what’s right in front of him, or some arbitrary future end game. He doesn’t really…absorb the things that happen between those two points.”

Jason blinks. “That’s a scary kind of accurate.”

“That’s what I do. I think and I know things.”

Jason can’t hold back a scoff.

“Did you…did you just misquote Game of Thrones?”

Tim lets out a somewhat startled laugh. “I guess I did. Totally unintentional, I promise. Although, you get points for catching it.”

“Points for what? Is there a prize?”

 “Even if there was, I’d be keeping it. I’m still ticked off at you for telling on me to B.”

“And I still feel bad about that. I owe you a drink.”

No, no you don’t. No drinks, no nothing. Off-limits, remember?

“Still not old enough to drink, Jason,” Tim replies, voice sounding less irritated and weary and more…amused? Fond even?

Then he hangs up, leaving Jason staring at the receiver of his phone in puzzled frustration.

“This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?”

“No,” Sheila tells him from where she’s lingering across the room, “it’s not.”

Jason lets his head fall onto his desk.

With the ice now broken with Tim and Bruce (or at least as broken as it can get given the latter’s inability to process anything resembling emotions), Jason pretty knows his days of privacy are likely at an end.

He completely expects the requisite visitations of various Family members who will no doubt have been told he’s alive.

Both the ones I knew and the one I didn’t…

If he weren’t pretending indifference, he would have expected Dick to be the first to show up, all passion and anger. He doesn’t have many memories of his predecessor-slash-older-brother-figure where he wasn’t furious about something—almost always Bruce related. To Jason, he only seemed to have two settings: coddling and wanting to pick a fight.

Jason’s not sure which of those he wants to encounter just now.

Turns out his intuition about Dick being his first visit is completely off.  

Instead, he wakes one night from a dead sleep by a sense of presence, both physical and spectral.

There’s a kid standing at the edge of his futon, swathed in Robin’s colors but with the aura of a predator lying in wait. He can’t be more than twelve, and there’s just something about the set of his shoulders and clench of his jaw that screams Bruce.

He’s also not alone.

Outside the open window that the kid obviously used to break in, a ghostly figure in a voluminous green robe looms, hissing imprecations at Jason’s wards from the decapitated head it holds in its hands.

Jason blinks, intrigue cutting through his sleep-dulled senses. Considering the kid is Talia’s, he obviously has some League of Assassins training. Given that, Jason would have expected there to be a lot more ghosts following the kid around. Either he hasn’t killed very many people beyond the one by the window, or the ones he has didn’t leave anything unfinished.

Either way, this brat’s dangerous.

“You know who I am?” Robin challenges although it’s more a statement of fact.

“Chip off the old block is what you are,” Jason grumbles, sitting up—slowly, in case the hard-looking kid thinks he’s about to try something. He’d rather not get into another Wayne beatdown so soon after his encounter with Bruce. “Did he actually teach you the menacing-people-in-the-dark thing, or is it genetic?”

“What is your purpose for returning to Gotham?” the boy demands, ignoring the question.

“Best chili dogs in the world,” Jason shoots back, reaching for the small table beside his fold-out bed and the carton of cigarettes there.

“Stow your flippant remarks, Todd, I will have my answer whether you give it voluntarily or after I’ve loosened a few of your teeth.”

“Big words for someone probably still losing their own baby teeth. What are you, six?”

“I won’t tolerate any attempts to shove your way back into Father’s life,” the boy insists. “We already have one failure lingering about where he shouldn’t be, no need for a second.” He pauses, tilts his head to one side, and his mouth pulls into a cold smirk. “Or rather, you were the first, weren’t you?”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You know there’s a headless guy in a green curtain following you around, right? I’d think really hard about what B considers a failure before throwing that word at other people.”

The kid’s mouth goes white around the edges—touchy subject, apparently—and moves into a crouch like he’s about to dive across the room. He pauses though, fingers touching his hear, and then scowls.

“That Daddy calling you out for missing curfew?” Jason prods.

“This isn’t over!” the kid snaps, and then like he’s making a point, whips a Batarang at Jason’s face.

By the time Jason’s reached up to catch it, the brat and his ghost have vanished.

“Well, that was fun,” Jason mutters, bemused and confident he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

He spends the rest of the night and early morning first checking emails and then researching. John sent him a bunch of information on kodoku, the technique Jason couldn’t remember in conjunction with the thing attracting negative energy to Tim.

It’s not exactly what he was thinking of, but even if it doesn’t help him figure out that conundrum, it might offer an inkling or two of how to deal with the ever-present Joker problem.

Need to read up on it more before I can know for sure.

His stomach growls and he decides to table it for now. There’s a 24-hour breakfast place down the street actually does bangers and mash, which he’s been craving since leaving London.

Instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Guess I’m putting off breakfast for a bit longer. Oh well. Potential client.

Jason forces himself to put on a normal, welcoming face and goes to open the door.  

What he doesn’t expect to find is a certain English butler standing in the shitty hallway just outside his office, with a bulky canvas bag in his arms and a disapproving look on his face that only just falters as their eyes meet.

It’s as if the air has been punched out of Jason’s lungs because if there’s anyone he has missed than anyone else since he’s been away, it’s Alfred.

“Master Jason,” the older man says, somehow managing to keep his voice from wavering, and god, he sounds the same. “I am sure in instilled at least a rudimentary etiquette into you as a boy. Therefore, you can imagine my disappointment upon learning you have been in Gotham for several weeks now and did not come to call at the manor.”

Jason can’t hold back the slightly hysterical chuckle at that, because trust Alfred to act like he’s been on some kind of extended vacation, instead of six feet under and insane. Yet, it doesn’t feel as dismissive or repressing as it would from Bruce.

“You know me, Alf,” he says through a suddenly dry mouth. “That stuff never took.”

“So it would seem.”

They exchange looks, both sizing up the other and then Alfred raises an eyebrow. Jason shakes his head like a sleepwalker and indicates the older man should come in.

Alfred moves smoothly across the threshold of the tiny office, frowning at the disarray (and mostly at the futon).

“Given the fact you’ve only recently, er, moved in, I thought it best to arrive with provisions.”

He sets the paper bag down on Jason’s desk and removes a box containing a hot plate, a kettle and what appears to be a package of tea. Though his back is turned, there’s a tension in his shoulders and a minor tremor that, when Jason cranes his head, he realizes are from shaking hands.

When Alfred turns around, Jason can’t hold back from reaching over and enveloping him in a hug.

It’s so different from the awkward thing with Bruce, and even though Alfred has never been the hugging type, he holds Jason just as tightly.

They stay like that for several moments, before Alfred speaks again, his voice tense like he’s speaking around a lump in his throat. “You have certainly grown into your various limbs, my boy.”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess I did…”

Jason tells Alfred everything.

He doesn’t skip any of the details the way he did with Tim and, to an extent, with Bruce. Because the fact is, he doesn’t know Tim, not really, and he knows Bruce too well. Alfred won’t look at him with pity or as something damaged; there’s pain in the way he watches Jason, but also an overwhelming and unquestionable relief.

Alfred isn’t one to cry, but his eyes gleam wetly as Jason relates how he woke in his coffin and the trial of digging himself out.

“I didn’t remember it for a while,” he admits. “Mostly it’s what comes back in nightmares. I guess it’s so clear because it’s the only thing that happened to me for another year. I was in a coma for about as long.”

“And no one knew who you were,” Alfred murmurs dully. “Everyone thought you were already dead.”

“…yeah.”

“My dear boy…if we had known…”

“Can’t change the past, Alf,” Jason shrugs, trying to play it off. “And even if you had known, I wasn’t me for a long time. Wouldn’t have wanted you to go through that.”

“And yet…somehow, you rallied,” Alfred says, determined. “You recovered.”

“I guess you could say that,” Jason says with a bitter twist of the mouth. “Not sure people would call seeing ghosts ‘recovered’.” He exhales. “I do see ‘em, Alf—all the time. I didn’t know what it was I the beginning, and…that made things harder. I was so out of it; I couldn’t tell when I was talking to someone alive or someone dead. Everyone at the hospitals thought I was insane. Bet you can guess what happened next.���

“Master Timothy…was reluctant to tell me when I asked,” the old man admits. “I’m astounded anyone in the system would have thought Arkham of all places was the appropriate place for you.” He clenches his fists together, no doubt imagining using them on whoever made that particular decision. “But Mr. Constantine, he rescued you?”

“Yeah,” Jason leans back, crossing his arms. “If he hadn’t shown up, I’d still be rotting away there. It was completely by chance, too. An old mate of his called in a favor with him, wanted to prove his sister was possessed and not bat-shit crazy.” Alfred shoots him a reprimanding look and Jason shrugs. “Sorry. Anyway, turns out she was crazy. John was keen to get out of there as soon as possible and happened to pass my room on the way out—he heard me talking to one of my many spectral roommates. He could sense the energy and when he went to look, he could see ‘em too.”

“And thus discovered that your supposed insanity was not quite so clear-cut,” Alfred determines, looking a mite triumphant.

“Not exactly. I’d been driven almost beyond the point of no return by then. If I’d been there much longer, it’d have been too late. But John could tell I was a medium. He decided I wasn’t supposed to be there and busted me out—then decided it’d be dangerous to let me wander around on my own like that. Been with him ever since. Three years of trying to heal what that asshat clown did to my brain and train myself not to lose it when I get rushed by a stampede of dead people.”

“Then I can only be grateful to him,” Alfred says. “Should you speak to Mr. Constantine in the near future, do tell him he will always have a place to stay at the manor should he need it.”

Jason laughs. “I don’t see him coming out this way any time soon. And I doubt B would be open to that arrangement.”

“You let me worry about Master Bruce. As for you—is there any point in reminding you that you also have a place to stay should you tire of this…urban setting?”

“This is my home, Alf,” Jason replies, at least halfway apologetic. “The manor might have...become that if I’d been there longer. Maybe.” He spares a moment’s thought for the little boy that wanted nothing more than to become Batman when he grew up. “But not now. I’m too—I’ve got my own mission now.”

Alfred nods, mouth turned downward. Jason tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the sad gleam in his eye.

“In the hope that your mission is not so all-consuming as Master Bruce’s, I shall still keep a guestroom at the ready. I…suspect returning to your old room would harm more than heal.”

And this is why Jason always loved Alfred. He gets it. Even when he’s hoping for the impossible.

“Guess I can live with that,” Jason says.

 “I do expect you to call for dinner at some point in the future. Perhaps not until you’re more settled. But surely you can sacrifice an hour or two for a pot roast dinner.”

Jason’s mouth immediately waters.

“Oh, that’s playing dirty, old man,” he tells him seriously.

“Having lived in Gotham this long, it’s hardly a surprise that I, too, can affect nefariousness when the occasion calls for it.” There’s a buzzing sound and Alfred digs into his pocket for his mobile phone and then heaves a sigh in a very familiar way. “Master Damian’s school. I’m afraid I must attend to this.”

“Ten o’clock and he’s already in trouble,” Jason whistles. “Beating my old record, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Alfred agrees seriously. He stands then, looks like he wants to hug Jason again but manages to keep control of himself this time. “Seeing you again is a gift, Master Jason. I hope you will allow me to impose on your hospitality again in the future?”

“You’re welcome here any time,” Jason says, warm and sincere. “I’m…it’s really good to see you again, Alf.”

The old man nods then continues to gaze at Jason a few beats longer, as if to make sure he really is seeing him, and then heads for the door. Jason sees him out, watches him until he vanishes around the corner, and then sags heavily against the doorpost to his office.

A bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with sleep deprivation washes over him.

“'Stay under the radar’, I said,” he mutters to himself. “'Don’t let the Family know I’m here'. That was the plan. There was a reason for the plan…”

A reason that was supposed to guard against an estranged father and attractive replacement and loving butler.

(Well, to be fair, he didn’t know that ‘attractive replacement’ was on his list, but it clearly should have been.)

At least I got the really hard reunions out of the way. Except for Barbie, but I doubt she’d drag herself up a flight of stairs just to see me. Might be able to avoid that one a bit longer…

Honestly, he's kind of afraid of having to look Barbara Gordon in the eyes. There's so much pain between them, all caused by the same evil.

As it turns out, Jason’s next visitor is somehow more overwhelming. Or at least starts out that way.

He’s shuffling through the hallway to his door with a bag of take-out that evening, and suddenly the air becomes cold and suffocating. Jason winces, tries to breathe slow and measured against the cold.

“Whoever you are, can you just…stay where you are for a minute?” he grunts, fumbling with his keys to jimmy the door open. Silence is the only response, but he takes that as acquiescence.

Well, that’s rare. A creepy stalker that actually listens.

He practically falls into the office, the constricted sensation in his lungs vanishing as soon as he crosses the threshold.

Wards are still working. Good.

“Okay, you can come in now,” he says, putting his groceries on his desk and turning around.

He almost does a double-take.

The person that glides into his office is a small Asian girl, maybe an inch or two shorter than Tim, and deceptively dainty looking. Deceptive, because Jason can see the ghosts crowding the hallway behind her, clawing at the doorway and keening and cursing at her in a myriad of languages.

“How in the hell does someone that looks like you have that big a body count?” he asks, halfway between impressed and horrified.

The girl’s face remains blank, but her eyes skitter away, as if in shame. Jason immediately feels like a tool.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…you’re just a kid.”

“Older than you,” she tells him in clear but accented English. She cocks her head to one side, studying him in a way that is almost as invasive as any of the mind-readers he met while working for John. And then she smiles and says, “Little brother.”

Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. Jason blinks.

“…What.”

She points to herself. “Cassandra. Wayne.”

“Wayne,” he repeats, and then makes the connection and snorts. “Of course. Most people collect stamps. B collects orphans.” He wanders over to his desk and sits down heavily. “What’d he bring you in for? Me, it was boosting tires off the Batmobile.”

Cassandra Wayne’s eyes widen in surprise and then sparkle with amusement and delight.

“So, what brings you here? Come to stare at the clan screw-up?”

“Curious,” she tells him.

“About?”

“They said you see…differently,” she says.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s…comforting,” she says, hesitating on the word like she’s not sure it’s the right one.

“Why’s that?”

“I see different too.”

Jason eyes her, then the myriad ghosts lingering beyond the words. He nods, serious. “I bet you do.”

She smiles at him.

He kind of can’t help be charmed by her, despite the vicious insults being hurled at her by her ghostly entourage.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Close that door so I can hear myself think, and you can stay for supper. I’ve got too much for just me.” He nods at the bags which contain what was supposed to be both tonight’s meal and tomorrow’s lunch. “Not sure if you eat souvlaki, but—”

“I eat anything,” she replies and sits in one of the chairs by his desk.

“Same here,” Jason agrees, handing her one of the Styrofoam containers. “Just promise me you won’t eat it with a fork and knife.”

She makes a face. “I am not Bruce.”

“Thank the gods for small miracles…”

To Be Continued

________________________________________________________________

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

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Reblogging is also majorly appreciated!

[schweeeppess]

a/n: mermay day 1 prompt for me was "encounter". so yes. enjoy.

"Dick, again?" Tim complained, beating his tail a little to keep up with his brothers. "You do this every day."

"Exactly," Dick answered, flashing him a smile. "It's tradition!"

Jason rolled his eyes, effortlessly swimming at a pace faster than Dick and Tim's. Neither of the latter minded because they knew Jason didn't do it on purpose--he was just huge.

"Just go with it, Timberlake," he drawled. "We're going to do this the rest of our lives."

Dick laughed at Tim's displeased click, moving a little faster to keep up with Jason, and caught sight of a flash in his peripheral.

"Don't go too close to the beach, Dick," Jason cautioned as Dick started swimming for it. "Humans are dangerous."

Dick's response was a dismissive flick of his royal blue tail. "I know, Jason."

Jason and Tim hung back on the deeper parts of the water, watching out for their adopted brother. Their pod was small, but that didn't matter to them. Dick, Jason, and Tim had found each other.

They stuck together, fought together, and never left each other behind, no matter what. That'd earned them all their scars: Jason had his along his dark crimson tail, back, arms, and one on his face across his cheek, Dick's mostly on his chest and upper arms, and Tim's scattered around his body. Many of their scars were related to animal attacks, but the rest were humans. Their boats, their nets, their greed.

So Jason and Tim always accompanied Dick whenever he went out for his swims near the beaches. And they always kept an eye out for humans. The children weren't a concern--they were rather pleasant, actually--like the older humans were.

"What do you think he saw?" Tim asked, tilting his head a little, his dark hair gently following the movemnt in the calm water.

Jason shrugged, crossing his arms. "Dunno. Could've been anything."

Tim snorted and beat his medallion-colored tail, looking over his shoulder.

"Think we could hunt afterward?"

"Probably, if Dick found something small." Jason glanced over at Tim. "What're you in the mood for?"

Making a face, Tim thought about it. "Amberjack?" he finally settled on. "We're in the area for it."

Nodding he said, "We'll see."

Dick was swimming out farther, so Jason and Tim moved to start after him, Jason saying he was going for a breath of air as he started swimming upwards.

"Why?" Tim asked, gills flaring a little to credit his question, swimming directly beneath him.

Jason lightly shrugged. "Why not?"

When his head broke out of the water, Jason coughed some water out of his lungs to clear them. It was always a pain transitioning from underwater to above it.

But it was usually worth it, like it was then, Jason figured as he sucked in a deep lungful of the clear oceany oxygen and felt the wind on his face.

He sighed, lifting his webbed hand to brush the hair out of his face.

Glancing down at the water, he was pleased to be able to see Tim, at the very least, swimming in wide and slow circles beneath him.

When he lifted his eyes to lazily look around, he froze and went wide-eyed.

There, on the rocks closest to the ocean, were humans. Normally that wouldn't be an issue--just adjust their course. Problem solved.

But Dick was heading straight for them, and he was likely already too far to really be able to hear them.

Hissing a few curses in the spoken language humans used, Jason dove back under water and coughed as the water re-entered his lungs.

Noticing him, Tim swam over. "Having fun choking?" he asked slyly with a raised brow.

"Humans!" Jason clicked back sharply. "Dick's swimming right at humans!"

Instantly Tim was darting off, powerful beats of his tail carrying him in Dick's direction at a speed rivaling a mako shark's.

Shaking himself off once, Jason followed, going a little slower because of his size but catching up quickly all the same.

When they were near enough, Tim released the loudest clicks and whistles he could. Jason did the same only a moment later.

“Fuck,” Jason hissed. “We’re going to get unwanted attention thanks to this.”

“Sharks,” Tim agreed a moment before resuming the distressed warning calls.

They could see the moment Dick heard them, because he froze and whipped around to face them, eyes wide and face set seriously as he raced to meet them.

“What’s going on?” he asked when he barely avoided barreling straight into Jason, looking around wildly. “What’s wrong?”

“Humans,” Jason responded. “You were heading straight for them.”

Dick seemed to relax when he heard what had them so frantic, and he nodded, pulling them both into a hug. He’d been really stressed about them, hadn’t he?

For some reason Jason found it slightly amusing.

...which only lasted, like, four seconds.

Because they hadn’t noticed in their relief, but now Jason did. He had to. He was staring directly at him.

The human was in the water.

“Dick,” he said. “Dick we have to go.”

His brother pulled away and turned to look in the direction Jason was looking, and he paled a little.

Curiously, the human waved.

Tim tilted his head. The human was massive, probably built bigger than Jason, with hair as dark as theirs. But the thing that they could all make out were the scars that marred his body too.

“He doesn’t seem hostile,” Tim slowly murmured.

“Oh, come on,” Jason scoffed, pulling at his brothers as he tried to get them to leave. “He’s built like a damn rock. He’s dangerous.”

“Jay,” Dick started, slipping his arm from Jason’s hold, “I think Tim’s right. Look.” He pointed with a clawed finger at a small thing beside the large human, and said, “He has a little one.”

Jason hesitated. The ones with the children were usually kinder humans, more likely to smile and be polite than chase them off rudely, especially if their kid was interested in them. He looked at the human’s child suspiciously, looking for any fear or reluctance that would imply less than preferable intent on the bigger human’s part, but only found eager excitement.

The humans swam up for air, and Jason let Tim’s wrist go.

Both his brothers turned to look back at him and Jason sighed.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded. “But if this goes south, don’t think I won’t say I told you so.”

Dick laughed and Tim rolled his eyes as the three slowly made their way over to the humans, the scales of their tails glinting in the sunlight now that they were just below the water’s surface instead of deeper.

By the time they reached the rocks, the two humans were as close to the water as they could be, the older one seemingly curious but more hesitant than the younger boy was.

After a brief discussion (argument), Dick and Jason popped their heads out of the water to speak with the humans.

“Hello,” Dick greeted in the spoken language with a small smile. “Can we help you?”

“This is a bad idea,” Jason mumbled, warily eyeing them.

Dick hit him upside the head and Jason made a face as he rubbed the spot with a hand.

“You are merfolk,” the boy said, chartreuse eyes glinting. “Correct?”

Dick smiled a little again and answered.

“Yes, little one, you are. My name is Dick Grayson. This is my brother Jason, who should tell our littlest brother it’s okay for him to speak with you too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason rolled his eyes, diving again to briefly give Tim the green light.

He resurfaced with Tim popping up to his right.

“That’s Tim,” Dick introduced as the youngest merboy hacked up the water from his lungs.

The bigger human nodded and spoke before the child could.

“My name is Bruce Wayne, and this is my son, Damian.”

Odd. The little one was darker than his father, by a notable margin. Bruce must have mated with a rather darker toned female. Where was she?

Jason didn’t ask, though. He wasn’t exactly overly interested.

“You seemed to want our attention?” Tim asked, finally able to breathe.

“Your kind fascinate me,” the little one--Damian, they needed to remember--rushed out, blushing a little.

The three merfolk collectively blinked at the same time.

“Oh,” Dick said. “Well, your vocabulary impresses me. You are young, yet speak like someone many years your senior.”

“That,” Bruce spoke up, “would be his mother’s influence.”

Jason smacked his hand over Tim’s mouth before he could speak faster than he could think. 

“Nice, kid,” Jason nodded. “Always good to be educated.”

There was a question Damian wanted to ask, just begging to be voiced, but Jason and Dick could see his anxious hesitation.

The oldest two glanced at each other, and Jason shrugged.

Dick swam as close as he could and started to climb a rock beside Damian and Bruce’s as the humans looked on curiously. When he was comfortable, entire body out of the water, Dick smiled over at Damian and waved his tail a little.

“Would you like to feel it?” he asked.

“Is it okay if he does?” Bruce responded with a quick glance at Jason.

“Dick offered,” Jason blandly retorted. 

When nobody moved, Jason scoffed, “I won’t attack you.”

“Had to be sure,” Bruce shrugged as Damian carefully picked his way over to Dick. He hesitated before reaching out and brushing his hand along the glinting royal blue scales of Dick’s tail.

“Wow,” he breathed, joy so obvious in his body language that it was practically blinding.

Tim smacked Jason’s hand off his mouth--Jason had completely forgotten he’d had it there--and huffed at his older brother. Jason shrugged.

Damian moved on from Dick’s tail to his hand, lifting it and inspecting the webbing between his fingers, then the sharp nails on them. When he was done with that, he asked if he could look at Dick’s gills.

Of course, Dick agreed and tilted his head so Damian could get a better look at them. This time the kid kept his hands to himself, observing with his eyes, and he nodded when he was done, clearly overjoyed at being able to meet and interact with a merman.

“Thank you,” he said to Dick.

Dick smiled and hugged the boy carefully, patting his back as the kid raised his arms to return the embrace. “Thanks for being nice about it, Damian.”

Suddenly Jason tensed.

They weren’t alone.

He hissed, diving back underwater and looking around frantically, ignoring the confused and worried calls of his name. He had to take care of the threat and keep his brothers--and the humans too, he guessed--safe.

When he saw the shark, he growled and was swimming at it instantly, punching it square in the eye when he was close enough and landing a solid hit to it’s snout with the muscle of his tail.

The shark was clearly unprepared for a healthy merfolk, a more medium-sized one likely not fully matured, and was deterred from pursuing a meal with another hit from Jason’s tail.

Jason watched it swim away, clicking angrily after it. Only when he couldn’t see it anymore did he return to the others, Tim now replaced with Dick in the water.

He didn’t trust the humans with his little brother one bit, but Dick made it clear that he should give them a chance before hand, so Jason didn’t make nearly as big a fuss as he normally would have when he popped his head out of the water and watched Damian interact with Tim.

“The colors are all dark,” Damian noted with a tilt of his head as he looked at Tim’s tail. “Why?”

“We live deeper underwater,” Jason supplied. “Darker down there, and we need to blend in, you know?”

Damian nodded, and asked another question, which Tim answered. Then Dick spoke, and it went like that for about thirty minutes before Bruce said that he and Damian had to go.

Jason, Dick, and Tim waved to their new human acquaintances with the promise of meeting them at the same spot in two days’ time.

“You know, Jay,” Dick said as they swam for Tim’s fish, “if we’d bet on how that was going to turn out, you’d be in debt.”

“Can it.”

“He is right,” Tim piped up.

“Shhh.”

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

In Which Attention is Avoided

Batfam Week Day 3 is Wayne Gala! I feel like the kids are never going to outgrow the whole “I’m done with being fawned over so I’m going to hide now” thing, even if their sizes now make that more difficult. As usual, can be found here on my ao3. Rating: PG (Jason briefly in boxer shorts and a t-shirt) Words: 1,446 Gen (Canon style Dick and Babs banter that may be viewed as flirting but that’s also just how they tease each other.)

Dick tugged at his collar as he sipped cold apple cider from a champagne flute. Alfred smirked at him from across the ballroom, the older man full well knowing that the model chatting Dick up was most certainly drinking something significantly stronger and had a few too many by this point in the night. Unfortunately for Dick it didn’t look as though Alfred was going to come rescue him. His gaze searched the crowd for a savior.

His eyes fell on Tim who looked as though he was drowning in a sea of elderly socialites. He hummed at the model before quickly directing her attention to a passing waiter and going to extract him. As Dick made his way over and wedged himself between the cooing women Tim shot him a helpless smile.

“I’m so sorry ladies but I really must steal Tim away from you,” he told them, draping an arm around his brother’s tuxedo clad shoulders and steering him away.

Tim turned to whisper in Dick’s ear as the women pouted after them. “What’s Damian doing that you’re using me as an excuse.”

“That is what we’re going to find out,” Dick whispered back with a sly grin.

Tim shrugged Dick’s arm off his shoulder’s suddenly and made a face. He continued to walk with Dick to the small alcove where they could see the crowd but not necessarily be seen. Dick stopped suddenly, causing Tim to run into him with a soft “oof”. The alcove was already occupied by Cass and Jason, both looking less than comfortable in their formal wear.

Jason saw them lingering and sneered. “Find your own hiding place.”

Cass just shoved him deeper into the cramped space and waved to Dick and Tim. “Can squish.”

So, pushing Tim ahead of him Dick wedged himself in with his three siblings. It was a tight squeeze but the two fully grown men and slightly less than grown Tim and Cass managed to fit. They were still out of sight from the rest of the gala even if it meant that Jason’s elbow was digging into Dick’s kidney. Though Dick suspected his brother was doing that on purpose.

“Have you seen Damian?” Dick muttered to Cass. His eyes were scanning the crowd. Bruce was hosting the gala for the Wayne Foundation for what was certainly a worthy cause that Dick would admit he couldn’t remember. However, he and his children wanted to be anywhere but there thanks to the upper class of Gotham who thankfully opened their pockets but made the Waynes’ lives miserable for the night. It was a minor sacrifice for a major cause.

Normally though, the city needed saving by this point in the night and none of them had dealt with being at a gala for so long since their early days as a Wayne. Dick knew that if Tim and himself were getting antsy then they were all in trouble. Especially since Cass and Jason had beat them here.

With no sight of Damian or Stephanie, who was officially his “chaperone” at these events but was really a co-mischief maker, he began to worry. No sign was not a good sign with them. Doing a final doublecheck of the crowd Dick wiggled his hand into his suit jacket to pull out the comm stashed there.

“Ow Dickiebird, that was my spline,” Jason grumbled.

“At least you have one,” Tim muttered forlornly.

“Hush,” Cass scolded her brothers. She turned her bat-glare on them, the only member of the family other than Bruce who could influence the others with it.

With his brother’s quieted Dick slipped the comm into his ear and switched it to the direct line, knowing that Bruce was listening in on the main one and would worry if he overheard. “Hey Babs? You got your ears on?”

Her laughter filtered into his ear. “That a rhetorical question Pixie Boots?”

“Was it?” He asked with a smirk.

“Less flirty banter more getting us out of here,” Tim snapped at him.

Dick pouted briefly at Tim before turning back to search the partygoers. “Do you think you could find your Batgirl and my Robin for me? They seem to be missing, I’m starting to worry, and we all want to get the hell out of Dodge.”

Babs snorted on the other end of the line and he could hear the clicking of her keystrokes before she finally replied. “I hate to break it to you but it appears as though they’ve ditched you. Security cameras have them in the game room with Steph whooping Damian’s butt at pool right now.”

Dick swore softly. “Ok. Thanks Babs. I’ll bring you food from that Italian place you like. The one across the street from the Clocktower.”

“Oh you better, Playboy Wonder. I saw quite the gaggle of models chatting you up as part of that footage. Meanwhile I’m slaving away over my keyboard and have Helena and Dinah doing your job,” Babs said.

Dick promised and removed the comm. He turned to the others who all looked at him expectantly. “They set something on fire?” Jason asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Nah, conned some guy into introducing his mistress as his wife in front of his actual wife.” Tim countered.

“You think?” Jason turned as much as he could in the cramped space to face Tim.

“For sure. Everyone always underestimates Steph. And we all know Damian is more manipulative than he appears.”

Cass nodded. “True.” She eyed Dick before a slow smile began to grow across her face. “But they ditched.” Dick grimaced and Cass’s eyes glowed with triumph. “On patrol? No. Hiding.” She paused as she thought for a moment. All of a sudden her entire face lit up. “Playing a game.”

“You scare me sometimes Cass. And not just cause you could whoop my butt without breaking a sweat.” Dick said. Cass just looked smug and began to creep out of the alcove.

“So where are they?” Jason asked as Dick began to follow her.

“Game room. Steph is wiping the floor with Dami at pool,” Dick told his brother over his shoulder.

Jason shoved his way out after Dick. “This I have got to see.”

Tim made his way down last. “Alfred won’t notice we’ve left the ballroom for another half an hour, by that point it will be time to go on patrol anyway.”

They all shared matching grins and together carefully picked their way through real estate tycoons with the newest phones, reporters in off brand suits, women dripping jewels and pearls each worth more than Dick’s entire apartment, and the social media celebrities who were too drunk to remember the night without the posts they were continuously making.

Managing to make it out unscathed and without catching Bruce’s attention they rounded the corner of the hall leading away from the ballroom. Here the four adoptive Waynes paused as Cass slipped off her heels, Dick undid his bow tie and top shirt button, and Tim shrugged his jacket off.

For his part Jason stripped down to his t-shirt, boxers, and socks all while cursing up a storm. “I don’t get it!” he growled as he balled the tux up and threw it next to Dick and Cass’s shoes on the floor. “I’m legally dead and yet I still have to go to these things. You know what? I don’t even care. I’m going to go watch Blondie beat the Demon Brat in pool.”

With that Jason took off sprinting down the hallway. Dick looked between Tim and Cass before shrugging and running after him. They laughed as they ran towards the game room, racing each other around turns and helping Cass to scoop up her dress’s long skirt.

They practically collapsed into the game room. Startling Stephanie and Damian, whose wide eyes clearly stated they were not expecting to be missed.

Dick pulled Damian into a hug that he tried to wiggle out of. “I thought you were getting yourself in trouble and here I was right. You better not be playing her for money.” Dick murmured into his little brother’s hair.

Managing to pull free Damian glared back at Dick. “-tt- Billiards is a peasant’s game of croquet which explains why Brown is so suited for it.”

“I’m sure that was an insult but I think there was a compliment buried in there,” Steph called cheerily.

“C’mon Pipsqueak and lose already so I can play Steph,” Jason practically whined as they all laughed. Damian did lose to Steph and so did Jason. She beat everyone that night and regaled Oracle and Batman with play-by-plays all patrol much to Gotham’s other vigilantes dismay.

[redrobin-detective]

Prompt idea - Deathstroke has kidnapped a wounded Dick Grayson. Batman and Dick's siblings come to the rescue. Points for some interesting introspection as Deathstroke tells bat family why he thinks Dick is the perfect son/protégé for him and manages to his some nerves.

This ended up being… very curious. Let’s see what you all make of it.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Batman, Bruce, chastises in a very rare loss of composure in the cowl. Tim shifts slightly in the seat beside him, he’s been the one who’s been toying with the jet to increase speed and efficiency so the comment really was directed at him.

“We’re going as fast as we can given the size and weight of the ship,” he responds lightly. “We’re going to get him back B, you know how tough Wing is.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to leave him in the hands of that lunatic for any longer than necessary,” Bruce grounds out turning to glare at his middle son. “You don’t understand what Deathstroke is capable of Tim, the Titans have only gotten a taste of what that man is capable of, and he’s had Dick for hours.” Even Tim, who’s well-practiced at the art of ignoring Batman’s glares, shrinks a bit under the force of this one.

“Alright, I know it’s good fun to beat up the kid but lighten up B.” Jason says from the back, giving Bruce’s chair a kick to stop his lecturing. “Besides, we all know that Slade is super in love with Dickie Bird and won’t touch a hair on his head, it’s been that way since I wore short pants.” Jay shrugged as we went back to lounging in the back seat, completely unworried. He bets by the time they get there, Dick will have already beaten Deathstroke and be waiting for pick-up.

“Nightwing took several bad hits before he was taken,” Damian interjects, about as edgy as Hood was calm. He’d been unable to stop his partner from being viciously beaten nor stop his kidnapping. If something happened to Grayson he would never forgive himself. “And it’s unwise to underestimate Deathstroke. Even my Grandfather holds him in high regard which goes to show how cunning and skilled he is. He must be if he gives Grayson such a difficult time.”

“It’ll be fine,” Tim concludes quietly, “Dick is tough and has handled Deathstroke before. Besides he has all of us there to back him up if need be.”

“Amen to that Little Red,” Hood says cheerfully. “And look at that, it seems we’re coming up on Wing’s location.” Batman takes over manual control of the plane, as the tracking device in Dick’s suit alerts them that they’re nearing their destination. He rolls in shoulders in preparation of, what he hopes, is a pretty awesome brawl.  

“Oh man, what is going on down there?” Tim mutters quietly as he looks out the window. Immediately Dami looks out his while Hood unbuckles from his seat and crowds over Damian.

“What the hell?” Jason mutters as they fly over a deserted beach and see Deathstroke and Nightwing, sitting on the sand seemingly without care. “What are you doing Dick?” He asks to himself as B, observing their reactions, brings the plane down into a dive and lands in a rough, but still passable manner just a few hundred yards from where Dick and Deathstroke were sitting.

“Be prepared for anything,” Batman growls as he throws off his seatbelt and makes last second additions to his belt. “Deathstroke is known for his unpredictability but priority one is getting Nightwing out safely." He continues curtly before stalking off the plane, completely forgoing any attempt at stealth. Deathstroke was changing the rules, the usual techniques no longer applied.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne,” Deathstroke says once the four Bats are in ear shot, “and Mr. Todd-Wayne, Mr. Drake-Wayne and the young Mr. Wayne as well. Lovely day out isn’t it?” Slade is methodically sharpening a collection of knives on the beach, not even in a threatening manner, just in a professional, casual way.

“What have you done to Nightwing?” Batman barks taking a few more steps closer but the knife Slade is sharpening comes up and the Bat halts. They stay that way for a moment before Slade goes back to his task.

“We’re just talking, nothing big, just normal stuff.” And true to form, Dick doesn’t look to be in any harm. The injuries from earlier appear to have been attended to, his belt and gloves are not on him but laid to the side about a foot away. Other than that, he’s just sitting there with a relaxed look on his face. “He was a bit of trouble when I was patching up his injuries so I gave him a muscle relaxant. He’s a little less chatty than normal but still perfectly aware of what’s going on.”

“Let him go Deathstroke, you’re through hurting him.” Robin spat out vicious, running forward to attack the assassin only to be stopped in his tracks by both Batman and Hood grabbing at his shoulders.

“Hurt him?” Deathstroke says innocently, “I would never dream of hurting him. Look at him boy, does he look hurt to you?” Damian’s face draws up into a sneer but the man continues. “Have I not treated his injuries? Brought him to a relaxing location to put his busy mind and body at ease? He’s not even bound, should he wish to leave, he could have done so at any time.” Through the black and orange mask, they could feel him smiling. “In fact, the ones who regularly hurt him have just interrupted our little chat.”

“You dirty liar,” Damian said, squirming and kicking but the elder Bats held on firm as much as they wanted to rush into the assassin. Whatever this was, it was new and they couldn’t just dive in and risk setting whatever trap Slade had set.

“Guys relax, it’s okay,” Dick said suddenly from his spot, still looking a bit dazed but there wasn’t any fear or anger in his tone. “We were just talking.”

“You see?” Deathstroke nodded, lightly gesturing to Dick with his knife. “We’ve been having a great conversation. Dick’s told me some stories from his time in the circus, we compared training regimes, I even shared with him one of my prized slow cooker recipes. Just guy talk.”

“The hell are you up to?” Hood demanded, debating if he should let the brat go at it so they could end whatever the hell was happening.

“I just decided to switch things up a bit, thank to you Timothy.” Slade said gently with a nod in the direction of Red Robin. “The Titans stole two of my children from me, when Rose finally betrayed me, the Robin at the time commented how they always turned because I never treated them with the love and respect they needed. I never gave them a reason to stay.”

“Rose and Joey left you because you were a manipulative, abusive asshole and talking recipes isn’t going to change that, or make Dick want to stay with you.” Red Robin said sternly, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the silent accusations coming from his team.

“Oh I agree. After all, what kind of father would take a young, vulnerable child who’s already suffered enough to last a lifetime and put them in a costume and throw them out into the rough, unrelenting world of capes and criminals.” Batman tensed up, “now that sounds pretty abusive to me, I think Dick agrees too.”

“You don’t-” Batman started before he was cut off.

“Of course if I’d treated Joey or Rose with more respect, allowed them to grow on their own instead of confining them to my side, forcing them to aid in my growth and progression while denying them their own, they might have stayed. They might not have run off to join the Teen Titans or anywhere really just to get away from their cruel, merciless father who can’t see beyond the mission.” Dick’s eyes narrow on Bruce as Deathstroke keeps talking and even the other Bats are side-eyeing their mentor. It’s one thing to live through it, another to have it stated so plainly.

“Maybe if Joey and Rose got on better it would have been different as well,” the assassin sighs. “I was an only child so I can’t imagine the heartache siblings would cause. Reckless younger brothers who refuse to listen, taking advantage of the older sibling’s good will and cheer and use and abuse him for their own purposes. No wonder the children left me.” There’s more wincing from the Bats and Deathstroke can only smile. That’s enough for one day, the seeds have been planted, not just in Grayson but all of them. He bets by the end of the year, Dick will be on the outs with his supposed family again and maybe, just maybe, might end up on his doorstep. He sets down the knife and begins packing up.

“Well it has been an illuminating talk but Dick here probably does need his rest and I’m sure you’re all tired from the rather bruising battle this morning. Why don’t you take him back home and we’ll fight it out again some other time?” He leaned over and patted Dick’s knee. “Time to go, your weapons are to your right. I’m sure your family will take the very best care of you, after all, they don’t want to follow my example now would they?” Deathstroke carefully got to his feet. “It’s been a pleasure as always, safe flight home.” And with that, he picked up the bag at his feet and began to walk away from the small, tense group.

Damian wriggled out of his captors’ grasp and ran over to his brother. He knelt down and gently patted the older man to assess for any unknown injuries. He was surprised and more than a little hurt when Dick brushed his hands aside.

“I’m fine,” the acrobat said, struggling to his feet. “The relaxant is wearing off, I can walk on my own.” He says in a quiet monotone, walking silently past Damian and the others to get back onto the plane.

“Dick,” Bruce said calmly, reaching out a hand to his oldest. “You know what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to put cracks in our infrastructure, to plant doubt and conflict in an attempt to draw you onto his side. You know he’s just saying those things to manipulate you.” Dick frowns and steps out of the reach of Bruce’s hand.

“Yeah, I know he is but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t bring up valid points. I just,” the man sighed, feeling far older than his 25 years. “I just need some time to think.” With that, he walked silently onto the plane and the Bats exchanged worried looks with one another. This was going to be a long, awkward flight back to Gotham.