#i think drag queen batman could fix the world actually.

[martyrbat]

i think doing drag could fix batman actually

[malcyon]

That March Night

Summary: “You gonna call me that the whole time?”

Roy laughs lightly, “What? Jaybird? Don’t like it?”

Jason quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I . . . It’s fine. I like it.”

*****

Roy goes to the Wayne Manor to talk (yell) about Oliver to Dick. He doesn't expect to end up talking to Jason instead.

Read on AO3

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Roy ignores the sting of Gotham’s winter biting his nose as he walks up the front steps of the Wayne Manor, the snow crunching behind him as his cab drives away. He shivers and looks up.

Wayne Manor is nothing like home. It sits elegantly on top of a low hill, almost like a palace, unafraid of what the city only a couple of miles away could do to it. The Queen Mansion isn’t like that at all. Vast gardens and tall trees practically hide it from view, allowing a sense of secrecy. Roy used to spend hours following Oliver around in those trees, trying to line up the perfect shot with a toy bow and arrow as his mentor pretended not to notice him on the ground below and—

No, he’s not going to think about Ollie. Roy whips his gaze forward, jaw tightening.

The Manor is nothing like home, and he’s never been so thankful for that as he is now.

He climbs the steps and punches the ridiculously ornate doorbell with a freezing finger. Then he waits, breath frosting in the air, wishing he’d grabbed an actual jacket when he’d stormed out and zeta-beamed over.

How the hell could a city be so cold in fucking March?

One of the doors opens, and Alfred raises an eyebrow as Roy rushes in, leaving trails of mush behind him. “Sorry,” he manages, trying to rub some feeling back into his hands. The butler looks him over, taking in the rumpled sweatshirt, jeans, and snowy boots before shaking his head with something that isn’t quite exasperation but isn’t quite amusement either.

“Master Richard isn’t at the house at this time, Mr. Harper.”

Shit. Of course, the asshole isn’t here yet; it’s not like Dick promised he would be or anything when Roy had called only ten fucking minutes ago.

He’s about to mutter out some excuse to leave; maybe apologize for the slush on the carpet too, since Alfred lays a firm hand on his shoulder in the way that usually precedes a scolding. He tenses with the contact, but then the old man says, “However, perhaps you would like something to drink?”

Oh.

Roy doesn't know how to respond to that, can only nod as Alfred smiles at him with a fondness that he hasn’t seen from anyone in a while. The butler drops his hand and begins to lead the way to the kitchen, even though Roy’s been in the house plenty of times before to know exactly where it is. Roy follows cautiously, praying that he isn’t leaving a trail of snowy footprints in his wake.

After several seconds of silence, Alfred gives him a knowing side-eye, finally asking, “May I ask what brought you here tonight?”

Roy looks down at his muddy boots. “Just another stupid fight. Nothing new.”

Because there isn’t any point lying to Alfred; the man knows him too well by now. And it was a stupid fight: Oliver going on about recklessness when he’s hardly even there to see if Roy’s being an idiot. A fact that Roy was all too glad making known. And, like usual, it escalated, voices rising until he stomped out as Oliver yelled after him.

Calling Dick had been an impulse decision. Because usually he’d go to Donna, whine as she kissed his wounds before telling him that he was an idiot and to go fix his damn problems like an adult. Like any of their eighteen-year-old asses can be considered adults. Like any of them actually know what they're doing.

But he doesn’t want his girlfriend’s logic and sensibility. He wants to rant to somebody who can understand, and who else is better for that than Dick “Daddy Issues” Grayson. Dick, who’s been visiting the Manor daily while the Big Bad Bat is off-world on some mission.

Except Dick isn’t here.

Fantastic.

Alfred gives him a forlorn look, dragging Roy back into the present.

“Arguments can tear families apart, Mr. Harper. I’ve seen it happen here. I’d rather not see it happen to you.”

The way he says that makes something ache in Roy’s chest, so he glances away and mutters, “Do you know when Dick is gonna be back?”

The butler doesn’t seem ruffled by Roy’s callous change in topic, not that he's ruffled by much, and continues walking calmly. “He was out visiting Ms. Anders in New York, I believe.” Fuck, he’s going to be waiting forever if Dick is with Kory. “However, he said that he would be back tonight to spar with Master Jason.”

Roy nearly skips a step.

He hadn’t even thought about Jason being here. Not that it’s a bad thing it’s just . . . He hadn’t even thought about it.

They aren’t too close, had held mindless conversations whenever Dick had brought the Boy Wonder up to the Titans’ Tower, sparred together a few times. The kid’s talented definitely, but from what Roy’s seen, there’s a heaviness on Jason’s shoulders that the former Robin had never had. Something rough around the edges. Eyes little too sharp and hits that can land a little too hard. Hell, Dick had mentioned before that Jason tends to “use excessive force” on criminals and is less forgiving than any of Batman’s other partners.

But Roy likes him. Jason is smart, quick with puzzles and even quicker with words. And, despite the cocky attitude he puts on, there’s a shyness that appears whenever any of the Titans talks to him.

It’s kinda cute, really.

Alfred turns into the kitchen, and Roy lets himself stop in the doorway to soak up the warmth of the room. He closes his eyes and rests his head on the doorframe, hears Alfred shuffle through the cabinets. He takes in a shaky breath and the world fades away.

God, he’s tired.

He must have dozed off against the doorframe because it’s the sound of chopping that makes him blink back to life. Alfred is standing by the counter, a small pile of chocolate pieces collecting on his cutting board as he goes through a massive slab of the stuff. Roy starts, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Harper. Hot chocolate is the best remedy for a cold night, and, besides, I was feeling rather chilly myself earlier.”

Roy’s throat tightens. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Please have a seat.”

He hesitates, then moves to the kitchen island and pulls out one of the stools from beneath it, sitting quietly. Alfred finishes cutting, puts the pieces into a double boiler on the stove, and cranks up the heat. Roy watches and tries not to fall asleep again as the scent of melting chocolate fills the air. Alfred hums from around the sink, and, screw it, Roy lets himself bury his head in his arms and shut his eyes.

The butler can shake him awake later.

Then he hears the sound of padded footsteps, followed by, “Hey, Alf, Bruce just called; he has some new information for you to put into—oh.” Roy turns around in his seat to see Jason, clad in flannel pajama pants and a Wonder Woman sweatshirt.

Roy’s mouth quirks with a smile.

Jason stares at him with big eyes, suddenly seeming very unsure and out of his depth. “Am I—uh, interrupting anything, or . . . ?”

Alfred shakes his head as he dries his hands with a dishtowel. “Not at all, Master Jason. What is it?”

Jason looks away from him, putting his hands in his pockets. Roy watches the kid bite his lip and shift his weight from foot to foot as if neither are comfortable to settle on. “Bruce has a couple of files on the Falcone case he wants you to sort through. But since you’re busy, I can take care of it.”

“There’s no need, I’ll do that if you finish with the hot chocolate here.” Roy isn't sure, but there’s almost a smugness to Alfred’s words.

Jason freezes, and his eyes flick to him—almost too quick for Roy to catch it—before going back to the old man. “I . . . Yeah, okay. The files are by the Computer, next to that stuff about Scarecrow’s new toxin.” Alfred dips his head and walks out, steps crisp on the hardwood, and Roy swears that he sees the tiniest curl of a smile on the butler’s lips.

Roy stares after him because he must have missed an inside joke or something—

Jason clears his throat, once again shifting on his feet as Roy’s eyes snap back to him. He tilts his head, brow furrowing. Was Jason that tall the last time Roy saw him? Jesus, the kid is already nearly Dick’s height, at this rate, he’ll probably be taller than Roy.

And bigger too. Jason is solid, certainly not as flexible or as fast as his adopted brother, but will make up for it in brute strength. It’s a little strange how similar the two look, but up close, the differences are obvious. Besides build, Jason is paler than Dick’s racially toned skin, making the blush on his cheeks stand out a hell of a lot more now that Roy’s noticing it. He frowns.

“You okay, kid? You seem a little flushed, don’t have a fever, do you?” He stands, walking over to Jason and pressing a hand to the boy’s forehead in concern, something Donna always does whenever somebody is feeling sick.

God, next he’ll be mother-henning over the kid.

But before he can move his hand away, Jason takes a quick step back, looking even pinker. “I’m fine, thanks. Just gonna grab the milk.” He darts past Roy, shoulders stiff. Roy blinks, but only shrugs and sits back down at the counter because okay then. Jason keeps his back to him as he pours the milk into the chocolate mixture, the tension in his body making Roy’s muscles ache.

The silence begins to tick by. Roy's fingers start to tap on the counter.

Should he talk? He feels like he should talk. Roy racks his brain, trying to remember anything Dick had said about the kid.

He mentioned getting books for Jason around Christmas, classic novels. Roy has never been a big fan of those, he prefers non-fiction and instruction manuals, facts. Like that stuff on engineering Ollie had given him for his birthday last year—

No, he can’t think about Oliver right now. He won’t. And he shoves those memories down, down, down, until he can pretend they never happened.

It takes a few seconds before Roy realizes that he’s been clenching his fist so hard his fingernails have left sharp, angry indents in his palm. He forces himself to lay his hands flat on the counter. Takes a breath.

Fuck, he needs a vacation from this shit.

He looks up, just as Jason turns around. The red is gone from his face, replaced with a relaxed focus as he walks from cabinet to cabinet, finding and throwing different spices into the pot. He doesn’t even need to stop and read the labels; just knows exactly what he’s doing. Roy watches, a little mesmerized by the surety of Jason’s movements. By the kid’s soft expression and the slight furrow of his brows as he concentrates.

Roy almost regrets it when he interrupts the other boy’s tranquility by asking, “Do you like to cook?”

Jason freezes, hand hovering over the hot chocolate, and, yeah, Roy should have kept his mouth closed going by the sudden nervousness on Jason’s face. Like Roy is going to make fun of him. Finally, the kid says, “Uh . . . Yeah, when I get the chance.”

Jason doesn’t continue, which should probably be Roy’s cue to just shut up, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to sit in awkward silence until Dick gets here.

“Why?” He’s honestly a bit curious. Jason doesn’t seem the type to spend time in the kitchen, and Dick sure as hell barely steps into one.

The kid stares at him cautiously, as if he’s waiting for Roy to insult him. Roy leans forward, propping his head up with a fist and putting an interested smile on his face. Jason looks away, tips of his ears pink. Slowly, he says, “We never had a lot of food when I was a kid, so . . . I don’t know, It’s nice getting to create something and then give it to other people to make them happy. Feels good.” Jason wrinkles his nose. “That sounds dumb.”

Roy chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s not dumb, it’s. . . It’s kinda cool, actually.”

Jason blinks, and then his face breaks into a smile. It’s a nice smile, one that Roy hasn’t seen before. “Plus, it’s funny to watch Dick try and help when all he can do is set water on fire.” He snickers and Jason cocks his head, brows coming together. “I have no idea when he’s gonna be back if you need to talk to him.”

Roy shrugs, suddenly not minding his friend’s absence as much. “He was with Kory last I heard,” he says, and Jason makes a face.

“You might be here for a while then.”

He snorts, and that nice smile appears on Jason’s lips again. “Yeah, they’re disgusting.”

Jason nods in agreement, then frowns. “What did you need to talk about anyway?” Roy freezes, reality dousing him like ice water. The kid stills, eyes darting down as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“No, no, it’s okay. Not like it’s a big secret or anything,” Roy mutters, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he should grow it out; perhaps that would get Oliver’s attention. “Ollie and I had a fight, needed to rant about it to somebody.”

He looks up at the ceiling, feeling the familiar bitterness rise in his chest. God, maybe he should leave, go to Dinah’s place, fuck waiting for Dick—

“You can rant to me if you want.” Roy blinks, and Jason looks away, almost managing to shrug like he couldn’t care less. But there’s an honest sincerity when the kid murmurs, “I—uh—I know I’m not Dick or any of your other teammates, but I’ll listen. If you ever want to talk or anything . . .”

Roy goes still, gazing at the other boy silently.

He isn't the type to 'talk' about his feelings, and if he ever does, it's after downing copious amounts of alcohol.

The team knows that, knows not to bring up Oliver when Roy stomps into the tower eyes blazing. Knows to just let Donna speak to him before approaching. Knows, if Donna's not there, to let Dick or Wally or even Garth follow him into the gym and spar with him for hours just so he doesn't have to talk about it.

Even then, it took years for him to fully open up to the original team. And as of now, Roy would rather stew in anger than share his emotions with Kory or Raven or Vic or, God forbid, Gar. He knows it's not fair to keep himself so locked up when they've practically laid out their darkest secrets to the whole team, but he just can't do it. But now there's Jason.

Jason, who he hardly knows, with his too-big sweatshirt and clever mouth and, before he can think about it, Roy's talking.

“Well, then. Buckle up, Jaybird. You ready to talk shit about father figures?”

Jason stares at him for a second, long enough for Roy to start believing that he’ll back out, but then a smile creeps across his face. “You gonna call me that the whole time?”

Roy laughs lightly, “What? Jaybird? Don’t like it?”

Jason quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I . . . It’s fine. I like it.”

The kid takes two mugs from a cabinet and pours them both some hot chocolate. Roy watches curiously as he then grabs some whipped cream from the fridge, topping off the drinks along with a bit of cinnamon.

“So, Harper—“ Jason slides Roy a cup and rests his elbows on the kitchen island, leaning towards him. His eyes are either green or blue, Roy can’t figure out which—“let’s talk shit.”

Roy smiles and takes a sip from his mug. The chocolate and spices dance through his mouth, and he can feel himself relax for the first time in God knows how long. The glow of the kitchen seeps through his skin, and his throat tightens. This is what a home should be like.

Jason watches him, waiting patiently. Roy takes a breath and begins.

It starts with Oliver, his needling over Roy’s every mistake before taking off again for a meeting or a mission or anywhere where Roy can’t go. They don’t even talk that much anymore, not that they did before, but still. Roy must have messed up, did something wrong that made Oliver disappointed enough that he doesn’t want to be around him.

Saying that out loud stings, or maybe it burns, deep in his chest.

Because what did he do wrong? Dinah hasn’t said anything, but she’s been busy lately with the League, and he hasn’t gotten to actually see her in weeks. And Hal had popped in not too long ago, but the Green Lantern couldn't exactly hang around to go on patrol and listen to Roy's concerns. Still, Roy's sure that somebody would call him out if he had really fucked up. Not Oliver, but somebody.

Somebody has to care, right?

Jason is a good listener, doesn’t interrupt once, only watches him with eyes that get it. He lets Roy curse and ramble, and by the end, Roy’s shoulders feel lighter than air. He’s even grinning as Jason snorts at his impression of Oliver’s ‘You should so definitely be disappointed in yourself even though I did that exact same dumbass thing less than a minute ago’ speech.

He finishes with several obscene hand gestures that make Jason snicker and then slumps back into his seat, taking a deep sip from his mug. Jason hums from across the counter, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes, and Roy frowns.

Being Oliver’s partner can suck sometimes, but at least he’s not Batman. Gotham is one fucked up piece of work, and it takes a certain kind of crazy to be able to live there and not go insane. Bruce has seen a lot of shit, everyone who picks up the mask has, but sometimes Roy can’t help but wonder what it was that made the man so hard on his sons.

The logical part of Roy’s brain reminds him that it's because he cares.

Dick would probably punch that part of him in the face.

And Bruce’s standards were high even when Dick was Robin. But Jason isn’t Dick, hell, Roy can see that, and he hardly knows the kid. And even he’s noticing how Jason is fraying at the edges; how sometimes his smiles don’t seem to reach his eyes.

Maybe Roy isn’t the only one who needs to be asked if he’s okay.

He opens his mouth to do just that, but Jason interrupts him with an easy grin and says, “So, besides yelling at Oliver, what else do you like to do?”

The question Roy’s about to ask is pushed aside, and he blinks in surprise, trying to come up with an answer. “Uh. I’ve been working on these designs for some new trick arrows, they—”

Jason glances up from where he’d been tracing mindless patterns on the counter. There’s a spark of curiosity in his teal eyes, and whatever Roy was saying turns to puffs of smoke in his brain. “You create that stuff? Like, you build weapons and shit?” He nods, a little taken aback because nobody’s really asked him about this before. Jason grins at him, wide and beaming. “That is so cool.”

Roy shrugs, attempting to ignore the heat spreading across the back of his neck. He rubs at it, trying and failing to look away from the genuine interest on Jason’s face. “Yeah, uh, I like making stuff. I’m working on this sonic arrow right now, trying to mimic Dinah’s scream. But I can’t quite get the sound waves to resonate from the shaft the right way and—“

It’s obvious that the kid doesn’t wholly understand what Roy is talking about. Still, he interrupts to ask questions and actually seems interested in what Roy’s saying. Not just nodding and zoning out like most people do, and seriously why Dick doesn’t hang out with Jason more instead of sulking around the Tower.

Sulking might be a bit too harsh, but still.

Jason has just finished muttering about Bruce’s stupid double standards on saying names in the field when Roy’s phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out and flashes the screen to Jason, who only rolls his eyes when he sees the caller. Roy hits accept and holds the phone up to his ear.

“Okay, I know I’ve left you hanging at the Manor for over ten minutes, but—”

“Twenty-five, actually.”

“But I’m going to be there in twenty so—”

“So, you’ve actually left me here for forty-five minutes.”

There are several seconds of silence as Dick goes quiet. Jason raises his brows, and Roy shrugs in response, an amused grin spreading across his face. Dick sighs, low and nearly annoyed. “Kory and I had a fight.”

The grin slides away, and Roy straightens up. “Again? Shit, man.”

“Yeah. ” he trails off then continues, “You tell me about Oliver and I tell you about this? I know where the key to Bruce’s liquor cabinet is; we can get drunk.”

Roy hesitates. He isn’t angry anymore, just . . . Happy might not be the right word, but with the taste of chocolate on his tongue and the sight of Jason playing with the strings of his Wonder Woman sweatshirt in front of him . . . It’s the only thing that explains the weird warmth in his chest. Plus, getting wasted to deal with Oliver's shitty parenting skills won't be worth the hangover in the morning. He shrugs even though Dick can't see him.

“Actually, I’ve been talking to Jason about it.”

The other boy’s head shoots up, eyes wide, and Roy hears Dick from the other end go, “Jason?”

He smiles and flicks a piece of leftover chocolate at the kid, who scrunches up his nose in response. “Yeah, he and Alfred made some hot chocolate too, if you want. Probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Jason rubs the back of his head at that, cheeks turning pink.

There’s a small laugh from over the phone. “They . . . Yeah, that sounds really nice, actually.”

“Alright, see you in twenty.”

“See you.” Roy hangs up, tucks his phone in his back pocket as Jason rubs his thumb self-consciously on the counter. Neither of them say anything for a moment, an almost comfortable silence settling between them.

Jason looks down at his socks.

“Do you think . . .” His voice grows quiet, and Roy sets his hot chocolate on the island, a bad feeling growing in his stomach at the kid’s tone. Jason doesn’t continue; only keeps staring at his feet.

Roy’s fingers begin to tap against the counter anxiously.

"Yeah, Jaybird?”

Jason looks up at the nickname, that ever-present blush appearing on his cheeks again. It takes more willpower than Roy wants to admit to focus on what the boy says next instead of staring at his eyes.

“Do you think that Bruce will . . . make me quit being Robin?”

Roy blinks.

The fuck?

“I’m sorry, what? Why the hell would he do that?” Jason winces, and Roy immediately quiets and clenches his fists instead. He tries his best to push the initial what the fuck tone out of his voice as he continues lowly, “Jay, where did that thought come from?”

Jason swallows, shoulders hunching like he wants to disappear into the floorboards. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

“Fuck that.” Roy walks around the island and leans against the wall opposite of Jason, eyes beginning to flash. “What made you think he’d do that?” The kid doesn’t answer, and Roy’s gaze narrows. “Did Bruce say something? I swear to God, he was such an asshole with the whole falling out thing with Dick I wouldn’t be surprised if he—”

“He doesn’t trust me! The guy fell, I didn't—”

Jason stops, his outburst echoing on the kitchen walls.

Roy stills and his brow furrows in confusion. Jason is looking down again, his face is pale like he’s about to collapse. Roy takes a step forward. “Jay?”

The other boy doesn’t move; only takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I know that I fuck up sometimes, alright. I know that. I know that Bruce doesn’t trust me like he trusted Dick, and that’s okay, I get it.”  

No, it is most certainly not okay.

“And he was already always fuckin' telling me, ‘I expect more from you,' and ‘Don’t hit that hard, Robin,’ and I’m trying and he doesn’t care, because I won’t ever be good enough for him. And I know that. But I never thought—” Roy’s mouth goes very dry as he notices that Jason is actually shaking, trying to keep it together. He's about to reach out when Jason takes a quick breath and continues, “Never thought that he’d think I would—”

The kid cuts himself off again, turning away and biting his thumb. Roy moves on instinct to put a hand on his shoulder, make Jason face him. It takes everything to not punch the wall behind him when he finally fully sees Jason's expression.

He looks broken. Gaze darting over Roy's face and muscles rigid as stone, palm pressed against his mouth like he's trying to hold in the words.

Roy rests both of his hands on Jason’s shoulders and squeezes him gently. “What happened, Jay?”

Jason stares up at him, eyes desperate. “You have to believe me, Roy. You have to. I—There was this dealer the other night, okay? B and I had been tracking him for a while and, shit, we even walked in on him hurting this girl. Kept bringing him to the cops, but they didn’t do anything. Said there wasn’t enough evidence or some kind of bullshit like that.

“So I—I went to his apartment,” Jason whispers, teeth grinding together. “Was hopin’ to find something on him while Bruce was busy with the police. And I saw him, just—drinking liquor on his damn balcony like he hadn’t done anything wrong. And I was so angry, but, Roy, I wouldn’t—The guy fell, I . . .” Jason stops, breaks out of Roy’s gentle grip and presses his lips firmly together.

“Jaybird, Jason, I believe you,” Roy tells him softly. “I believe you, I swear.”

Jason shakes his head sourly. “Bruce doesn’t. He thinks I pushed—” He shuts his eyes tightly—“I wouldn’t. I told him that. I told him, but he benched me. He actually thinks that I—”

Roy is moving before he can even think about it, pulling Jason against his chest and letting the boy rest his forehead against the crook of Roy’s shoulder. Jason isn’t even crying, just shaking, still holding his hand up to his mouth as Roy murmurs into his hair, “Hey, hey. I got you, okay? I got you.”

Jason grips his sweatshirt, breathes against Roy’s neck. “I haven’t told Dick. I don’t want him to look at me like . . . Like Bruce did. Don’t want to disappoint him too.”

Something inside Roy breaks, and he pulls away, makes sure that Jason is looking him in the eyes. “Hey, you are not a disappointment.”

Jason laughs, weak and bitter, “That’s bullshit, and you know it, Harper.” His eyes suddenly spark, and Roy almost takes a step back. “Besides, what the fuck do you know? You’re a damn Titan, you’re not . . .”

A suffocating silence fills the room, heavy and rotten.

The back of Roy's throat burns when he manages, “What do I know? You’ve been listening to me for the past half hour, right?”

Jason freezes, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I—Shit, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Jason.” The kid looks up at him, face flushed and eyes red. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I . . .”

“Hey.” Roy places his hands back on the kid’s shoulders. “I said it’s okay, didn’t I?” Jason stares at him for a moment before hesitantly nodding.  

Roy drops his hands and hops up on to one of the bar stools, leaning over to grab his mug across the island. He takes a deep swig like he’s drinking vodka instead of hot cocoa, and runs through the words in his head.

Jason watches him incredulously. Roy sighs.

“Alright, I’m only saying this once, so pay attention.” He holds up a finger. “Bruce is an asshole. He’s an asshole who thinks he’s always right and who would probably rather dive off of the Wayne Tower instead of talk about his feelings. He’s also an asshole who loves you.” Jason snorts, and Roy shakes his head. “No, I'm serious. You’re his son; even if you think you’re just a replacement for Dick, you’re his son, Jay.”

“But Dick is—”

“You’re not Dick.”

That shuts the kid up, makes him blink up at Roy like he isn’t seeing him quite right. Roy shrugs, feeling a little self-conscious under Jason’s stare. “Well, you’re not. You’re nothing like him, and that’s completely fine. Great even.” Roy thinks of Dick’s ever-charming smile and his ability to sweep anyone off their feet in a matter of seconds. He shakes his head. “Honestly, the world only needs one Dick Grayson anyway.”

He grins, sliding off the stool to ruffle Jason’s hair. “Besides, I think you’re pretty awesome. And the rest of the team does, too. You’re smart and good in a fight. You even helped us solve that Zandia case the other day; we would have been stuck for hours if you hadn’t worked on that. Those people would be dead right now if you weren’t there, Jaybird."

He nudges Jason with his arm, eyes crinkling with a smile. “So what if you disappoint Bruce? You’ve got us now. And if the others don't want you, then, hell, I do. So there,” Roy finishes, beaming broadly while Jason stares at him, mouth parted and eyes round. That blush is back, going all the way up to the kid’s ears and making the blue-green of his irises stand out even more.

After several seconds of silence, Roy cocks his head uncertainly. “You . . . uh, good there, Jay?”

Jason starts, shaking his head like he’s clearing out cobwebs. “Um . . . Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting . . . that.”

Roy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck while shrugging awkwardly. God, he’s not good with emotions. “Hey, any of the others would have said the same.”

"No, they wouldn’t, but . . . Thank you, for that, it . . .” Jason's voice tapers off and he's still staring at Roy as if he'd just found the answer to an extremely complicated case.

Roy shrugs again. “Hey, you just listened to me rant about Oliver for the last half hour, the least I can do is—”

He isn’t expecting it.

Isn’t expecting Jason to step forward, one of his hands curling into the fabric of Roy’s sweatshirt while the other cups his cheek. Isn’t expecting him to hesitate just for a second, eyes darting from Roy’s wide stare to his lips before leaning in. Isn’t expecting Jason to press his mouth against his, kissing him in a way that’s gentle and warm and surprisingly soft.

He certainly isn’t expecting himself to kiss back.

His hands bunch into Jason’s dumb Wonder Woman shirt, drawing him closer. The other boy’s mouth parts with a gasp and a shiver and Roy can taste the cinnamon at the corners of Jason’s lips. He instinctively reaches up to grip black curls and Jason isn't that bad of a kisser, uncertain, maybe, but he's getting the hang of it; letting Roy take control and tilting his head just the right way so that Roy can—

Jason moves forwards, making Roy stumble back into the kitchen island, Jason falling against his chest. And Jason laughs into him, quiet and breathless, before crushing their mouths together. The boy rests his arms over Roy's shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as Roy smooths his palms along Jason’s waist, feeling him shudder again under his touch.

He brushes his tongue against Jason’s mouth, and Jason opens for him immediately; the taste of hot chocolate becoming strong enough that Roy is sure he could get drunk off of it alone. Jason makes another noise, something between a sigh and a moan and—

—And he’s kissing Dick’s little brother. Dick’s fifteen-year-old brother. Dick, who is going to be here any second and will actually kill him if he sees this. Unless Bruce beats him to it. And Donna, fuck, how could he forget about Donna.

Roy isn’t sure if reality hits him or Jason first.

He lets go of the kid and stumbles a half-step away, heart stopping in horror as his actions catch up to him. As Jason jumps back into the wall behind him like Roy is on fire. As a sudden silence fills the air, settling heavily onto his shoulders until it feels like it's crushing him. They stare at each other, panting, and Roy hates the part of him that notices that Jason’s mouth is red and wet and that he’s flushed head to toe.

Jason brings his fingers to his lips, touching them like what had just happened had been in a dream, and he has to make sure it was real. “I . . . We . . . Shit, I didn’t think . . .”

His voice trails off, and Roy swallows numbly. He feels like the ground is shifting under his feet as he prepares for the most awkward talk in his life about why they can’t ever do or mention this again. “Jason—”

“Hey, Roy, you here?”

Dick’s voice explodes through the tense quiet like a bomb, and Roy whips around, brain trying to come up with anything to say. Desperately he looks behind him, to beg through eye contact to not say something that could give them away, but . . . Jason is gone.

Like he had never even been there in the first place.

Fuck.

Roy is still staring blankly when Dick enters the room, shrugging off his winter coat. “Hey, I know you said that Alfred and Jay made some hot chocolate, but I grabbed the key for Bruce’s cabinet anyway because I can’t be completely sober when I tell you what—” Dick stops, voice turning concerned when he sees the look on Roy’s face. “You okay, man?”

Roy opens his mouth. Closes it. The taste of hot chocolate and cinnamon turns to ash in his mouth. Alcohol sounds really, really good all of a sudden.

He smiles, his chest feeling like someone had scraped out an important part of him with a knife. “I’m fine, just really need to be drunk when I tell you about this bullshit Ollie said to me.”

Dick makes an understanding noise, wrapping an arm around Roy’s shoulders as he leads them out of the kitchen. Away from the gentle lights and the smell of chocolate and the way Jason’s lips had felt against his, soft and warm.

He touches his fingertips to his mouth. Dick looks at him. “Roy, really, you seem kind of out of it, are you sure—”

“I’m fine, honest.” He risks a glance back, wondering if he could maybe catch a glimpse of Jason in his Wonder Woman sweatshirt, eyes tired and broken and hopeful. “Just thinking.”

Dick laughs, “Well, don’t do too much of that tonight.”

Roy forces another grin, still feeling the ghost of Jason’s lips tracing his mouth.

“When do I ever?”

[lilaclily00]

The Party That Went From Haunted to Worse: A Summerween Tale

Danny hates his life sometimes. And ghost portals. And his little sister. It’s a mistake going anywhere with her.

-_-_-_

I thought this was going to just... never see the light of day like most of my WIPs, but AU!Ghost August (Day 11: Crossover) gave me the drive to actually continue, finish, and post this monstrosity. Thanks for the excuse to put this out to the world!

This is the original post for the OC, and here’s the link to this story on AO3.

There's some Zalgo Text in here, so at the end I’ll have the... translations? Is that the right word? It looks better in AO3, though. :(

Thank you for helping me with this, @goinggoblin!!!

LET’S GOOO

-_-_-_ (I don’t think there’s horizontal lines anymore? Yikes)

Dani—known as Ellie around here—handed over the last of the fake spider-webbing. “There you go, Mabel.”

Mabel cheerfully thanked her from the ladder rungs, then turned back to stick it to the wall. “Now time for the paper stuff!”

“Are you sure it's okay to just...” Danny gestured around at the incomplete decorations strung around the designated party room.

Mabel waved him off over her shoulder, tacking up a cutesy paper skeleton onto the wall with her other hand, then a sheet ghost next to it. “Of course! We invited you!”

Ellie nudged Danny—well, it was much too hard of an elbowing to be classified as a nudge by most people, but not for them. “Lighten up, bro. It's not very often you get to go to parties, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” He knew she didn't mean his popularity—the fact it didn't exist—but that he just didn't have the time or energy for it most of the time. He wouldn't have gone to anything like this if she hadn't dragged him along as an excuse to take a break from ghost hunting.

Back in junior year, she’d sent him letters and photos from one of her longest stops in her travels, a dinky town called Gravity Falls, Oregon. She became good friends with a pair of twins around her age there, and they all stayed in touch afterwards. The twins invited her to hang out plenty since then, but this was the first time she told Danny to come along.

He had a complicated relationship with Halloween, considering the Fright Knight incident and all the kids and even adults that had started dressing up as Phantom (to varying levels of success and cringe). However, he had to admit he was intrigued with the idea of Summerween, especially when it was so far from Amity Park that its ghosts and fanbase would be very unlikely to interfere.

 Even just thinking that, though, made him wonder if he just jinxed himself.

 “Mabel,” they heard her twin call from the residential part of the Mystery Shack, “there's something wrong with the wig!”

 Mabel shook her spiky, blue-haired head, hands on her red-uniformed hips. “No, there isn't! I would know!” She wagged her finger towards the visiting pair. “I'll go help him, so don't go anywhere!” She ran off, nearly tripping over her own costume.

 “They really like to play up the twin thing, huh?” Danny asked his little sister in the silence. Someone had to acknowledge that the party's hosts were dressing up as Thing 1 and Thing 2. (He wasn’t sure what kinds of friends he suspected Ellie would make, but these two were a surprise.)

“At least they don't feel the need to be a walking pun at every opportunity,” she retorted, flipping back her Batman cape dramatically.

“I always am a walking pun. This is my truest self!” Danny gestured to his own costume, a classic zombie attire with green skin and fake blood everywhere.

“Har har.”

He looked over at the little pile of “spooky” images waiting on the top of the ladder, and took his pick of a large paper spider. He glanced back to the doorway where the twins disappeared off to, and quickly floated up to tape it to the ceiling with a grin.

“How are you going to explain how you got that there?” she giggled as he hovered back at her side.

“I won’t,” he replied smugly, touching ground. Just in time, too, as both Dipper and Mabel reappeared, now with their outfits and hair matching.

Mabel chirped, “If you guys help me with these last touches, this place will be perfect just in time for the party!”

Dipper fiddled with his sleeves, giving her a crooked smile. “At your orders, Mabes.”

-_-_-_

Danny was surprised by how many people actually showed up to what he expected to be a relatively small affair. Dipper had informed him that he and his sister lived in California for most of the year; despite that, it seemed the pair were very popular in their second home, Gravity Falls. Mabel introduced him to several of her friends, shouting over the loud pop music booming out the speakers, and he didn’t remember a single name.

Da—Ellie, he kept forgetting to call her that—was familiar with quite a few people, too. She stuck close to her big brother, though, until he ordered her to hang out with her friends instead. He appreciated the sentiment, but he could handle being by himself at a party.

Right?

He tried to dance for a few songs, but it wasn’t feeling natural. He then went to the refreshment tables for a jack-o-lantern cupcake. Maybe he needed to try to socialize after all. Hm, that one redheaded girl Mabel introduced to him seemed cool. He scanned the area for her face—

Wait. 

His eyes narrowed, studying the long white hair halfway across the room. It wasn’t as glowy as usual, but he’d know that hair anywhere. He pocketed the cupcake wrapper and pushed his way through the crowd. Finally, his ghost sense said something as he crossed the dance floor.

"Hey, ghost girl!" he shouted over the music. Her head turned 180 like an owl, pigtails following slightly slower than physics demanded, then she calmly turned the rest of her body to him. Her ever-present blank, wide-eyed stare bored into him, and never strayed, as she easily swerved around the dancing kids toward him. He noticed that she made an effort of walking on the ground rather than floating.

"Hi, zombie," she replied, the slightest smile on her face showing she knew exactly who she was talking to. She was never really scared of him or angry at him. If anything, she seemed to like talking to him. He supposed it was because he was among the closest to her physical age in the Ghost Zone.

He was not going to be friendly, though, and showed it by crossing his arms at her. "What are you doing here?"

She clasped her hands behind her back. "I’d like to ask you that. You hardly ever leave your lair.”

Danny scrunched his eyebrows, then glanced around in case anyone heard her. “Do you mean Amity Park?”

“Yeah.”

He frowned warily. Considering their past interactions, it seemed like a genuinely curious question. She wasn’t the type to use his absence as a chance to cause chaos back home. (If only the other ghosts were the same way.) “I got invited to hang out here for the weekend. And I don’t think it counts as my lair.”

“I think it does,” she replied with the barest of shrugs, still staring at him, unblinking. “I’m here ‘cause a door opened up in the woods right by here," she added. "There was a flyer for this party taped up on a tree. It said there was gonna be cookies."

He scrunched his eyebrows. "You can't even eat human cookies." She finally blinked as that registered, and her gaze broke to look at the ground as she wilted under the weight of her disappointment. Drama queen. "And I know you're planning to scare the kids here, if you haven't already started. C'mon, let's go."

"What?" She flicked her eyes back up to him, igniting a small light in her irises, disrupting her otherwise unglowy appearance. Her entire face slowly, ever so slowly, began to twist clockwise on her head. "It's Summerween!"

He held up a hand; he knew exactly what she was going to argue. "I know it's like Halloween, but it's still the wrong date. We agreed on no mass hauntings outside of October 31st."

Her eyebrows just so slightly scrunched, about the closest she could get to looking angry. "This isn't a very big party."

He had to give her that; it was bigger than he expected, but still only a few dozen, which potentially wasn't enough to count as a mass of people. And everyone here was around their age, which was less worrying than her chasing down little kids just for a laugh. 

Her big, empty eyes were unsettling, yet they nearly pleaded with him. He couldn't stand when she did that. He rubbed the side of his face in defeat, forgetting for a second about his zombie makeup. "Oh, fine! Only in this party. And nothing too scary. Otherwise, you go right into the thermos."

"Sounds good to me," she chirped, mouth curled into a small smile by her ear instead of her chin.

"Oh, do you guys know each other?" Danny glanced over to see the hosts themselves come from behind him. He turned back, tapping his cheek at the ghost. She knew the signal, and covered her face to recover its natural orientation.

"Kind of," he told Dipper.

The ghost girl uncovered her face, and smiled shyly at the twins. "I'm Lily. Nice to meet you." Danny raised his eyebrows at her; this whole time, she had an actual name?

"I'm Mabel! Lily, I love your costume!" Mabel squealed, hands smushing her own face. "You're so cute and creepy and ah!"

"Yeah, you did a great job," Dipper added, quiet admiration on his face as he quickly studied her appearance. Danny guessed he was wondering why the wig and body paint looked so realistic. Mabel did a fantastic job with their own costumes, but it was hard to make poofy, blue wigs not look like wigs. "I'm Dipper, by the way."

"You should totally enter the costume contest!" Mabel added, hands hovering, as if itching to reach out and inspect Lily's dress. "It’s later tonight!"

"Oh, maybe I will," she said, eyes flickering between the twins. They fixed onto Dipper when he had looked back up to her face. After a few seconds of an impromptu staring contest, Dipper turned his eyes away, blinking and glancing at Danny, unsure of himself. 

Mabel seemed to not have noticed, as she continued rambling to Lily, who patiently listened, empty eyes directed back to Mabel and small smile held up.

"She takes Halloween——er, and Summerween costumes very seriously," Danny told Dipper. "Pretty sure she'll try to creep the crap out of everybody here."

"Well, seems like she's actually good at it," the boy admitted with an awkward chuckle. "But hey, that's what this holiday is for, right?"

-_-_-_

Lily was right there, right in plain sight, swaying to the music by herself, but Danny knew she wasn’t as innocent as she looked. Even now, she was beginning her haunting.

It was just little stuff. There were a few small spiders on the fake webs, real ones. The door opened automatically for newcomers. The jack-o-lantern cupcakes, once all smiling, now had one smiling evilly in the center of the platter while the rest wore a fearful frown. She was staring blankly at Dipper at every opportunity.

Danny had fetched his thermos soon after their conversation and clipped it to his belt. He tried to distract himself by talking to people, like the girl that turned out to be named Wendy, and bopping his head to the background beat. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but keep his eye on her and her effects. Why did his problems from home have to follow him everywhere? Why did he have to jinx himself?

He felt his sister ram into his back. "Danny, I sensed a ghost!"

"Yeah, so did I. It’s the white-haired girl. I worked out a deal with her," he immediately replied, sigh heavy and beyond his years.

Da—Ellie slowly shifted into a suspicious frown. "Wait, what? What kind of deal?"

"She gets to haunt the party for the night, and will peacefully return to the Ghost Zone after." Danny wilted under her glare. "Look, sh-she's even less harmless than the Box Ghost. She's all about the scare factor, doesn't try to hurt anyone—well, maybe makes them lose their sleep if they can't handle horror movies, but still. If I don't compromise here, she'll go for much bigger plans later to spite me. I promise I know what I'm doing!"

"Since when have you known what you're doing?" She shook her head, surely knowing how very offended he was by her comment. "This just doesn't sound like you, bro."

He shrugged exaggeratedly. "She doesn't operate the same way as most ghosts."

“So that made it okay to let loose a prankster ghost on these people?”

“Well, geez, it sounds terrible if you put it like that.”

She shook her head at him again before turning away with a dramatic cape twirl. He suddenly realized she does that at him a lot.

-_-_-_

 Something was off.

 Dipper had made all the necessary precautions for a Summerween party he could think of. He had left anti-magic wards hidden around the house—not unicorn hair strong, but still effective against most of what could possibly threaten a gathering like this. He’d cleared out the trash cans so the gnomes would have no reason to stick around. He locked up Gompers in the attic (he never proved to be dangerous, but that goat was terrifying).

But then when he went to take a break by a cobwebbed corner, he found real spiders on it. A lot of real spiders. The party lights, which were supposed to change color every few seconds, got stuck on red when he passed by them. The doors creaked open ominously when anyone came near them. He went to pour out some fruit punch, and the dispenser screamed when he pressed on it.

Every time he noticed one of these things, he glanced around him and immediately found that ghost girl staring straight at him.

Dipper ran to check the nearest ward, but it was still intact. However, there was something written next to it on the wall, in red.

You think you can keep me out?

Well, that wasn’t good.

The only suspect so far was the girl—Lily, right? Perhaps she wasn’t just dressed up as a ghost after all. But she looked too solid to be a ghost, though he hadn’t seen anyone actually try to touch her yet, and these things that were happening just didn’t have the same MO as the ghosts described in the Journals or those he faced in the past. But what other kinds of supernatural creatures could do things like this? Which ones would?

Mabel poked his shoulder, startling him enough that he bumped against the wall. She didn’t laugh, however, her attention focused on his wig. Eyes narrowed, she slowly said, “Dipper, is there blood in your hair?”

He ripped the wig off his head. Red liquid seeped out of its roots, matting down the poofed hair. He hesitantly touched a finger to it and sniffed. It smelled like copper.

Mabel pulled her own off, and found the same result. Face scrunched up in disgust, she tossed it to him and ran off to the bathroom. He could hear the door creak much louder than normal even from here.

Lily was staring at him, a blank smile on her face.

A part of him chastised himself for coming to conclusions too fast, but what other conclusion was there? And performing an exorcism, if it came to that, wouldn’t hurt something that wasn’t a ghost, right?

Clearly, what he needed to do next was talk to this girl, find out her motives before her little act became big. Just in case, though, he’d need to pull out that new silver mirror first.

-_-_-_

Amity Park and Gravity Falls were not very similar, but Danny realized there was something in common between their townsfolk: they were somewhat clueless. Not that he eavesdropped that much into the different conversations on the edges of the dance floor, but it seemed hardly anyone had noticed the odd tension in the air, the invisible slimy feeling on their skin of the supernatural hiding in their midst. Something coming.

Or, well, that that paper spider he stuck to the ceiling had grown several times its original size and crawled over one of the ceiling lights.

Ellie was consoling Mabel, who stood by the refreshments without her wig on. She glanced over to him a couple times just to glare.

He was trying to not keep his focus on Lily too much for his own sanity, but his eyes didn’t listen to his brain. They kept roaming the crowd to keep track of her. She looked like she wasn’t doing anything, but…

The eyes of the various wall decorations followed him wherever he went. Distant screaming could barely be heard over the music, if he tried to listen, but it came from nowhere. More spiders poured out of abandoned plastic cups. (She really liked that aesthetic, apparently.) 

He only caught her in the act once at the refreshments table: she studied one of the Halloween-colored M&M cookies in her hand and threw it into her mouth. After a second, she pulled it back out, staring at it like it was the cause of all her problems. She disintegrated the cookie she couldn’t eat. When she turned away, all the other cookies had turned into oatmeal raisin.

How evil.

“Hey, Danny?”

He blinked and turned to see Wendy. She quirked her eyebrow at him. “What’s got you making that constipated face?”

He blinked at her even harder and she laughed. He huffed, scratching at his hair. “There’s just weird stuff going on.”

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed, “this party’s totally haunted.”

“Actually—” He had enhanced hearing, and he still wasn’t sure he heard that right. “Yeah, it is. You noticed?”

“Well, it was kinda hard to ignore.” She nodded to herself. “I thought I heard creepy laughing coming from the bathroom and there was nobody there. ‘I’m here’ was written on the mirror in blood, though. Once I came back out, more stuff just kept popping up. There’s definitely a ghost.”

Danny frowned. “And… why aren’t you freaked out?”

“Well, same reason you aren’t. Dipper’s gonna take care of it.”

Alarm bells rang in his head, drowning out that distant screaming. “What do you mean ‘take care of it’?”

She tilted her head quizzically. “Don’t you already know him? This is totally Dipper’s thing, knowing about the supernatural and saving people from it. He already took down ghosts before. He’s probably getting everything ready for an exorcism or something right now.”

Exorcism. Exorcism. His skin crawled at that word. Ellie was friends with a kid that performed exorcisms in his spare time?

He remembered that Lily had been pulling that constant-stare thing on Dipper before. She had stopped at some point, which meant Dipper was out of sight, which meant maybe he really was planning something to get rid of her. Permanently.

Wendy said, “Hey, man, you okay?” just loud enough to bring him back out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, uh, just need to find Dipper,” he muttered, turning away and quickly searching the room for his face. Where was that kid, where was he, where was he—?

He hadn’t noticed that the music had slowly quieted down until Mabel was shouting by the DJ table. “Hey, everybody! We’re gonna start the costume contest in five minutes! Come over here if you wanna be in it!” The lights flickered for a couple seconds. “Oh, that’s new! We’ll get Soos to fix ‘em!”

Okay, there’s Mabel. Where there’s Mabel, there’s likely a Dipper. Or maybe an Ellie. He figured he should probably talk to her, too, even if she’ll give him that look again, wondering how she shared the exact same DNA with his doofus self.

-_-_-_

Mabel watched as the chatter grew louder with her hands on her hips. “There you go, Dipdop, I moved up the contest. The sacrifices I make to my carefully planned schedules for you!” She turned back to the playlist and rose the volume. The song sounded strangely distorted and screechy and demented, causing everyone to cover their ears. She quickly stopped the music. “But I guess you’re right that things are getting out of hand.”

Yes, he was. The freaky little instances seemed to have gotten worse in the few minutes he had spent grabbing the mirror and Journal 3 upstairs. The fastest way to find the ghost: have her come to him.

Grenda and Candy came running up in their matching “party animals” costumes, along with a couple other kids they barely knew. Danny rushed to the table, eyes wide and much more awake than any zombie had the right to be. Dipper opened his mouth, about to turn that into an actual joke, but Danny beat him.

“Do you know anything about ghosts?” The words practically tumbled out of Danny’s mouth.

Dipper raised his eyebrows. “Well, yeah.”

“And how to defeat them?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your plan?”

Dipper considered Danny’s strangely serious face. Then, he said, “Make her come out, find out her motives and if there’s something we can do to make her leave. Trap her away if she doesn’t want to, and exorcise her as a last resort.”

Danny set his frown grimmer and grimmer as he spoke. The lights flickered. “I think you need to reconsider the severity of this haunting. I can’t let you—”

Click.

The lights all went out, and the room was an inkier black than it should’ve been on a warm summer Oregon night. Large objects screeched as they dragged across the floor, bumping into people. Dipper felt something crawl over his feet, heard the table in front of him slide away. Just over the random yelps and screams of the attendees, a dark laughter rang.

 They flicked back on. The tables, speakers, and party lights were all randomly located throughout the room. The attendees were stunned to silence, taking some seconds before their chatter began anew as they inspected their new surroundings.

 A girl with a white wig (it had to be her real hair) and painted blue skin (she didn’t have skin) slipped through the crowd, glancing between the three with that little smile gracing her face. “Can I join the costume contest?”

 Dipper couldn’t stop himself from setting a glare on her, gripping tighter the silver mirror behind his back. Mabel, who had more tact, plastered a grin on and said, “Of course! I invited you to do it, didn’t I?”

 Lily nodded and quietly took her place by Candy, who was not the only contestant staring at her warily. She ignored them all, eyes unfocused as she fiddled with one of her pigtails.

 Dipper glanced back over to Danny from the corner of his eye. “I think you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told him quietly. “Just let me do my job.”

“Your job?” Danny hissed in return, far more offended than Dipper expected him to be. “Just let me talk to her—”

“What, do I look like I haven’t done this before?”

Danny tugged at his hair. “Listen to me! You need to change your plan!”

All the paper decorations promptly dropped from the walls, fluttering to the floor, except for the cutesy ghosts.

Mabel shouted over their quiet arguing, “Last call if you want to be in the contest!”

Ellie strode up, determination in her footsteps as she lined up beside Lily.

-_-_-_

Now that the music wasn’t playing, Danny could see people inspecting their surroundings a little more. Now that she wasn’t hidden among the crowd, Danny could see a few of those people second-guess Lily, watching her rock back and forth on her feet with a calculating eye. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. If there was anyone else here like Dipper...

He had to give up on talking sense into the kid because the contest was starting. Mabel was doing it by applause, and he couldn’t hear anything else over it.

Mabel wrote down on a notepad (though he had no clue what she’d be writing down), nodding thoughtfully to herself. “Looks like it’s between Count Dracula,” she shouted, gesturing with her pen to a kid in an elaborate vampire costume then to Lily, “and the ghost! One more vote decides the winner!”

The other contestants moved aside, but not too far. Ellie glanced over to Danny as she stepped back a couple feet. She was planning something, he knew it. With how mad she was at him, he had the distinct feeling he should be running for what remained of his life.

Dipper pulled Danny’s arm back as the applause rang again. When it stopped, he spoke in a dangerously low voice. “You said you knew her. You said she would try to scare everyone.”

Danny bit his lip for a second. “I did say something like that, huh?”

Quiet fury grew in Dipper’s eyes. “Well, fine. If you’re not going to do anything—” The rest was drowned out by the applause roaring up again, startled shouts mixed in as the lights flickered again, but Danny could guess, and his heart dropped to his stomach as Dipper turned away without giving him a chance to reply.

“Dracula wins!” Mabel announced, and a cheer rose up once again. “But the rest of you were great, too!”

Ellie stepped back up to Lily when the claps died back down. “Sorry you lost,” she said.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she replied amicably. “It wouldn’t really be fair if I won, anyway. I’m not a̙͈ ͖̩̠̬c̯͔̼t͚̮̗̙u̟͖͕a̻͙ ̼ll͙̙͎y̹ ̬͔̣̻̣w̠e̞̤ͅ ̪̖̦̤͍ͅ ̥ar͙͈i͈̳̰̜n̪̼̮ ͈ ̟̫͍̰͍ͅg̱ͅ ̟ ̦͇͓̻̹͇̼ ̝̯̦ ̹̬̟̱ ̭͈̠͇̟͖ ̗̤̯̮̭ a̬̯̰̦̞̪ͅ ̣̜͖ͅ ̬͚̪̫͎̰ c̫̗ ̜͕͕͇̤ ̤o ̥̮̺s̹̜͕͇t̬̘̮̼ ̗̞̥̣̖̼ ͇ ̣͓̹ u̹͖̙͙͇̠ ̼͉͓̰͙ ̝̯͍͙͍͓ ̭ ̤ ̖̠̠̙͖̮͕ ̜͔͔̮ ̖ ͚̤ͅ ̤ ̪̤̖͓̘͉ͅ ̭̳̜m̦̼̲̫ ̲̫͔̳̮͎ ̖̩̝̙̦͇ ̲̯̠͙̬ ̝ ̠͔̼͈͖ ̰̹ ̘͎̺̗ ̳̠̫̳̻̥ ̥͚̙͈̠͙ ̪̖͎̳̻ ͔͉̰͈̳ ̠ ͇̺̫ ͚̲̻̥͚͎̣ ̖̫̖̭ͅͅ ̩ ̩e͙͍͎̙̺̜.͇͍̩”

Lily’s hair and dress floated, revealing blobs of ectoplasm instead of legs. The lights went out, then returned in a dim, red hue. She was already up in the air, eyes glowing, face twisting. She raised her arms, and objects began to float at her command. Attendees screamed, almost loud enough to not hear the unsettling laughter coming from all sides. A couple of them tried to leave, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Hey!” Dipper shouted as he ran to her. He was holding a… small mirror? “What do you want, ghost?”

She abruptly turned her head to him, face upside-down. Her voice had a demonic overtone as she replied, “T͍̝o̗͙ͅ ̥m͈a͕̲k̶̼͙̻e̼̟̼ ̳̱y̨o҉͎̹u͔͇̬͟ ̼s̹̙cr͉̦͇̮̭͇͡e̺͓͖̱̤̗a̪͙͓̩̮͟m͢.͎̮̳̱̬̯”

“Come on, there has to be something else,” he insisted, hand gripping the mirror harder. Danny inched his way; that mirror had to be a trap of some kind, and he wasn’t going to let Dipper use it—not when Danny didn’t know if he could get her back out of it.

“I know what you don’t want,” Ellie shouted, holding out a Fenton Thermos. Wait—Danny felt for the thermos on his belt. It was gone. She stole his thermos. How did he not notice until now?!

Lily stared her down, but she didn’t look scared. “Y̘o̺͎͖̱u̖̜̳̭̺ ̸̣̭̥̦͉̙̭s̝͢h̨o͙̞u̠͓̰̙͉l̡͉̠̗̣̥̗d̯̩̮̦̯͎̗’̨v̰̘̹͞e̙͉̘̦̱ ̶̙us̻̩̪͎̝̯e̯̱̜̬̮̝̫d͕͢ ì̟t̗̻̬̯͕̪͘ ̝͉w̹̤̫h̞̼̫̹̘̲͍͢e̖ņ̦̹̬̣̫̱ ̗̟̺y̵̬̤͖͓̖o̰̯̪̟̼̥u̟̩̰̙͢ ̝̖͕̗́h̪̰͝a̖͍̲͉͡d͕̹ ͙͖̬͉͟t̻̗̠͈̝h͚͚̜̖͎̕ͅe̼̰͍ ̰̲̪̥c͏̟̞̝͓̫h̗̤͚̲͔̼a̯͎̳͇͙̝͈n̦̥̜̹͘ͅc̳̭ȩ,” she answered, holding her hand out at Ellie. She began to float off the ground, yelping as she flailed her arms and legs in the air. She lost her grip on the thermos as she suddenly began to spasm, as if fighting off a—no, she couldn’t be.

She stilled, eyes closed, then opened them. They were glowing ecto-green. She was dull and slack-jawed, staring off at nothing.

Danny couldn’t help the dread trickling into his chest. She wasn’t really...?

He stepped towards her, and she... glanced down at him? Oh, she didn’t.

She winked.

She did.

Danny felt a thrill of anger run through him—how could his own clone decide to act possessed and make all of this worse? (When did those two even get to plan this?!) It was clearly working, with how all the partygoers stared at her in horror, looking like they were about to pass out. 

“A̛̫̙̮n͏y̗͇o̩̝͇̫n͖̜̬͇͖͖e̳ ̣̱̙̭͓e̤͚͉͉̮l̢̞̦̟s͎̱͍͍̩e̪̭͘ ͈͡w͖͚̩̹͉͢a͇͔̘ņ͎̟̣̫n͈͉̕a̷̟̝̯̬͚  ̭̱͉̟͔͘p̷̙̬̮̫̲͈̞̼͇̜͇̎̐͊ͨͅ  l̜͖̲̀̇̚  ̼ ̤̄ a͙̻̲̰͂̋ͦ̎͌̏ ̬̘͍ͯ͝   ̙͎͚̊̆̆ͨ̚ ̝̟̎͑͐ͬ́ỵ̶͉͉̳ͨͥ̌͋̓ͅ         ̖͉͓̙ͮ͌̑ͤ̽?̡͎̦̭̩̙̰͎”

Danny was about to dive for the thermos and suck both of them in (Ellie absolutely deserved it too, now), but he saw Dipper holding up the mirror and beginning a chant from a thick book. He had to take care of that first. He tackled the boy to the ground. The mirror slid away, unbroken, and both of them scrambled to get up and grab it first. Danny won, barely, and Dipper tackled him in return.

“Give me that!” Dipper growled, furiously trying to pull the mirror out of Danny’s hands.

Danny elbowed him away. “No, we need to use the thermos!”

“Why?!”

 “Because—” he grunted as Dipper kicked him surprisingly hard— “it’ll work better!”

“And why should I believe you? You don’t care about stopping her!”

 “I never said I didn’t!” Dipper paused his fighting. “I said to change your plan because she doesn’t deserve to be killed or trapped forever, and I already know that!” Danny pushed the other boy off of him and stood up, brushing himself off. “The longer we argue, the more she’ll make everyone pee their pants.”

 “Okay, fine, we’ll use your thermos thing,” Dipper grumbled as he pushed himself back to standing. He sobered as he saw food flying around and Ellie still floating there, gawking into space. “You better be right.”

 “Of course I am.” 

Danny sprinted for the thermos. He turned it on the second his hand touched it. Lily and Ellie apparently heard its mechanical whine, as they both glanced at him, Lily wide-eyed in a different way than usual.

“I̙̻̺’̩͍m͇͔͢ ͅṋ̰̮̦͎͡ͅo̞̤t̩̯̰̖̱͖͖ ͞f͚̜̙͢ǐ̭͉͓͈̅͗ͥͅn̝̯̻͎̣̰̱̅i̮̹͔̲ͨͥ̋̆̕s̓̽ͤ͑̋҉̜͈̱̪h̤͉̫̭͍̒͆̉̈̊̐e̵͈̣͖dͧ͏͎͍̻ ̖͙́̇̒͛ẅ̘̠̤̤̭̒̾͟ḭ̩͈̥̬̅ͪt̰͇̟̹͖͂ͪͪ͋͟ḩ̝̯̖̤͉ͬ́͌—”

He gave her an apologetic look as he pulled the lid off. She let out a chilling, unnatural scream as she was sucked in, the finale to her entire performance. 

Everything that had been floating crashed down, the lights flicked back to their usual white, and the laughing died off. Ellie fell to the floor, rubbing at her head and looking around as if dazed (that little liar).

“Are you okay?” Mabel cried as she ran to Ellie’s side, just as Dipper came up to him and asked, “Are you sure she can’t get out?”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, knocking his knuckles against it. “I’ll let her out in the Ghost Zone.”

“The Ghost Zone?”

He found himself explaining it halfmindedly, the rest of him focused on inspecting the party. It looked like everything really was back to normal, minus the rearranged room and food that fell to the floor.

“That’s amazing!” Dipper’s eyes sparkled, and Danny could finally see what Wendy meant about him wanting to know the supernatural, too. “I have so many questions!”

Danny suddenly suspected he’d be here a long time if those questions started now. “How about you write them down and I’ll tell you about it when the party’s over?”

He was surprised that Dipper agreed so easily, running off to grab Mabel’s pen. With that, he snuck out of the party, thermos in hand.

-_-_-_

Danny took the lid off again, watching as Lily reformed. She stretched her arms over her head with a sigh. He rubbed at his neck. “Sorry about trapping you, I didn’t really have a better choice.”

"That was still really fun!" She giggled, with the biggest smile Danny had ever witnessed her pulling. Her coloring shifted back to how she usually looked in the Ghost Zone, with purple hair, gray-black skin, and her dress bleached from black to bright white. She was officially out of her “scare-mode”, it seemed.

He huffed. "If you tone it down next time, and not include my sister in your schemes, I might not have to resort to it again.” He glanced around. “Well, time for you to go home. Is that portal still open?"

"Perhaps." Lily floated into the forest, and Danny warily followed. 

Only a few minutes passed before they came across a long rip in the air, carved out in front of one of the many trees, shining ecto green like a bleeding wound. One of its neighbor trees wore a sparkly Summerween party flyer.

"See you later, Phantom!” Lily chirped. “Oh, and let Mabel know her cookies were good!" She paused to wave, her grin lingering on her face turned counterclockwise, then flew through. 

Danny watched the portal until it closed; luckily, it only took a minute or two to stitch the fabric of reality back together, leaving no trace. Well, except for his nerves being fried for the night.

He was not looking forward to Ellie’s smug grin. 

It’s a mistake going anywhere with her.

-_-_-_

Zalgo Text:

"I'm not actually wearing a costume."

"To make you scream."

"You should've used it when you had the chance."

"Anyone else wanna play?"

"I'm not finished with—"