#Revelation 9 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

britcision · 1 year

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Possible alternate titles for this chapter include “It’s Tim Drake Not Tim Break Because He Can’t Fucking Catch One”

Also, yet more new characters arrive! Who will it be! 😈

By the time I finish a chapter I always forget what I wanted to tell you lot around it. Every time. It’s amazing, I wish I was this punctual for good reasons

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

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Thinking Shit Through Is Not A Halfa Trait

Jason hadn’t really expected to get through the night without at least a pissy phone call from B to ignore, but hell. It was the next day, mid afternoon, and so far so good.

Someone must have distracted the old bat. He’d have to find out which sibling to thank. Scrubbing a hand across his face, he stifled a yawn and headed for kitchen.

There was surprisingly little left of the detritus from their snack run; two halfas could apparently eat to beat a bear. Jason swiped most of the trash into the garbage can and glanced around.

He didn’t exactly keep most of his safe houses stocked with edibles, especially not anything that might go off in between uses. He’d seen more than enough of Dick’s fridge to know better.

But Danny had stayed over, and would probably be up soon, and again: eat to beat a bear. They could order take out. It was just…

Jason felt fucking good. Mellow, relaxed in a way he could barely remember ever having felt before. And when he felt good, he liked to cook.

He could also order groceries in.

Humming softly to himself, he reached for his Red Hood phone and tapped in some instructions. Nothing super fancy, but maybe he wanted to flex a little.

Was it weird to use his criminal empire to get groceries? Maybe, but at least he fucking paid his guys. They’d be over soon too, and he trusted them to get him what he needed.

Glancing around the safe house, he figured he might as well clean up a little.

He’d carried Danny to the bed last night after they’d both fallen asleep on the couch. Who knew constant nightmares were good for something?

Waking up with someone else there had given him something to latch onto. By the time he could catch his breath he’d already settled into Danny’s presence, knew where he was.

Seemed like just returning the favour to unscrunch Danny and give him somewhere a little better to sleep.

He’d given in to the sweatpants around when they switched from games to movies, and Danny had borrowed an old sweater to get out of his dress shirt.

Jason had a couple of Tim’s and Cass’s sweaters that’d be close to Danny’s size, but who wanted a tight fitting sweater?

That was definitely the only reason Jason had grabbed one of his. It was big, loose, and comfortable, the fabric soft and thin.

It had fucking drowned Danny, who had lost his shit giggling and promptly flopped the sleeves down over his hands to slap Jason with. Any bad jokes for the rest of the night ended in a variant of “slippity slap, don’t talk crap”.

Danny had snuggled right down into it in his sleep, the hood pulled all the way over his head to hide from the light, and he’d whined a bit when Jason lifted him.

Tough titties, sleepy king, because sleeping on the couch led to cricked necks and aching backs, and Jason needed something to take care of after that nightmare.

He wouldn’t have hated it if Danny did wake up, but at least one of them slept like the dead. Guy snuggled right down into the bed too, wrapping himself into an immediate blanket burrito.

He also weighed about as much as a wet baby kitten, which Jason would tease him about if he hadn’t been lifted just as easily and flown away with.

The couch was way better when he could stretch himself out across the whole thing, and had robbed a couple of pillows. He hadn’t even had another nightmare.

But they’d left fancy clothing all over the place, and Jason had no idea what Danny’d wear to head home. There were spare clothes, but he probably needed to keep the suit.

Jason made his way through the sitting room gathering and sorting the suits, each over a side of the couch. Jacket, pants, shirts, ties…

A little imp of mischief took him and he switched the ties again. Not like it fucking mattered which one they each took home, and if Danny cared he could ask.

He also found one and a half of Danny’s socks, which was frankly concerning. That or Danny had one normal sock and an ankle sock, which wouldn’t be the biggest surprise.

Jason tossed it onto Danny’s pile anyway, and went hunting for shoes. The groceries arrived before he had any luck, and he paused to grab them.

It was one of his street kids, a mouthy little bugger named Jess who didn’t actually know Hood without the helmet, but was always happy to chat with Jason.

She looked a little pale, actually. Bags under her eyes, thin in the cheeks. Jason made sure all his runners had warm places to crash and enough to eat, but winter was rough.

Abandoning the shoes for now, he jerked a thumb towards the kitchen.

“I’m making pancakes. You can have the first three and take the cookies,” he said tersely, knowing if he sounded worried she’d read it as pity.

The cookies had been a treat for whoever did the run anyway. Only thing on the list that didn’t involve cooking.

Brown eyes narrowed up at him, examining his face, and then she nodded, carrying the grocery bags in.

“Didn’t get pancake mix,” she warned, hopping up to sit on the dining room table as he got to work.

Best get her out of here before Danny woke up. Jason wasn’t looking to drop the Red Hood connection yet, and frankly Danny didn’t need the encouragement to bastardise Jason’s furniture.

He made a dismissive tut at her words, pulling ingredients from the bag and getting to work with a practiced hand.

“Pancake mix is for soccer moms,” he told her over his shoulder, measuring flour and baking powder. They might not be staples in his brothers’ safe houses, but Jason had fucking standards.

Steph kept them in hers so she could bully Jason into cooking for her. Didn’t take much bullying.

Jess made a sceptical noise back, peering at what he was doing and he turned to lean against the counter so she could see.

Wets in one bowl, dries in the other. Dries into wets, mix. Pancakes were easy. A little vanilla, a little cinnamon and nutmeg, and soon the smells of the holidays were filling the flat.

Jess was already shifting closer, watching the pan covetously as he stood over them, waiting for the tell tale bubbles. She wouldn’t ask questions; Alley kids didn’t.

He pointed his spatula into the pan.

“They’re ready to flip when you see the batter on the top bubble,” he explained, and she did her very best impression of a teenager who didn’t give a shit.

No skin off his nose. She might need to know some day.

He flipped the first high into the air and caught it in the pan, just to see her crack a grin. Two and three followed, and a minute later he popped all three on a paper plate.

There were sounds coming from the bedroom. Jess had clearly also noticed, her grin creeping towards the knowing, and he nodded to the door sharply.

“Scram. Don’t forget the cookies,” he added as she hopped off the table.

She paused in the doorway, looking between them and the bedroom.

“Hood in there?” She asked with far too much calculated innocence for her age.

The thought made Jason smile, which she clearly took as an answer, bolting before he knew if she thought it confirmed or denied her guess.

He didn’t really mind if the Alley kids thought he was fucking Red Hood. They all knew his face, and it’d keep any of them away from thinking he might actually be the big boss.

Them finding out he was that Jason, Freshly Alive Jason Todd-Wayne, might be more of a problem, but hell. He was born in Crime Alley, and had lived here for years since his revival.

Anyone who did have a problem would find that opinion pretty fucking unpopular among Red Hood’s lieutenants. They might not know his link to Hood, but they knew the boss liked Jason, and that he always took care of them.

Danny’s revelation about Sam brought a broader grin to his face and he chuckled. Maybe they’d think he was Hood’s sugar daddy.

The opposite rumour had made the rounds more than once, and Jess might just have left to set it going again. Jason just made sure he knew who was running the pool, and that he got a bet in.

Chuckling to himself he poured out another set of pancake batter and dug out another paper plate. No point putting toppings away until he knew what Danny would want.

The man himself made a sleepy appearance just as Jason slid the next lot of pancakes onto a plate. Something lurched uncomfortably in Jason’s chest when he saw Danny was still wearing the sweater… and little else.

The sleeve had flopped down over his hand again and he hadn’t bothered to pull it back down as he rubbed his face, yawning widely.

He looked fucking adorable. It lit something soft and warm inside Jason, spreading easily into his mellow. And into a low, rumbling purr that almost made Jason drop the pan.

The fuck was that?

It must have been a halfa thing, because Danny purred right back without appearing to notice, flopping into a chair at the table.

Deciding he could ask later, Jason slid the plate of pancakes in front of him, along with cutlery. No point bringing them separately; Danny would probably use his hands.

After adding syrup.

Jason was not going to be following that train of thought any further.

Danny made an appreciative noise as the pancakes registered, looking more attentively at the rest of the table. Jason gestured to the syrups, jams, and fruit.

“Wasn’t sure what you liked, but I figured one of us will get through the lot,” he explained, and Danny just stared at him for a long moment.

“Dude, fucking marry me,” he finally sighed, reaching out to grab a syrup and drizzle it over his pancakes.

Ignoring the sudden heat at the back of his neck, Jason chuckled and turned back to the stove, pouring out another set of pancakes.

“Yeah, well, there’ll be more when you’re done those if you want ‘em. We have plenty of batter.” Maybe a little too much, but it wasn’t like there wasn’t always someone craving pancakes.

Danny hummed happily, mouth already full by the time he thought to ask.

“Holy fu’in shi’ these are amazing. Ha’ you ea’en?” It came out muffled as fuck but not unintelligible, and Jason shrugged.

“Nah, I’m gonna have the hot fresh ones when you’re done the ones that started cooling,” he snarked, leaning against the counter to keep an eye on the stove.

Pretty sure he caught Danny frowning in between bites, but it wasn’t like he was lying. He’d get the nice fresh pancakes eventually, and he’d learned the fine art of patience.

He was just flipping the last pancake when something small and beige floated in from the corner of his eye. Turning he almost stepped back into the stove away from a bite sized piece of pancake.

Danny, still sat at the table, smirked at him while still chewing.

“You gotta ea’,” he said smugly.

The bite of pancake closed in.

Jason considered his options. Danny fucking would hit him in the face with syrupy pancake. No two ways about it.

Of all the people in the world who did not need telekinesis…

Throwing dignity to the wind, he leaned forward to try and catch it in his mouth without smearing syrup across his face. Whether Danny was trying to help or hinder this effort was not clear.

Still, it seemed to satisfy him as he went back to his own pancakes. Jason dropped off a fresh stack and reluctantly accepted another forkful, rolling his eyes.

At least Danny let him have the actual fork this time.

“If I knew you were such a fuckin’ mother hen I’d have just ordered cereal,” he told his king. Danny stuck his tongue out at him.

“Says the bitch who decided to make a whole ass pancake breakfast with toppings while I was in bed. A bed I did not go to sleep in, by the way, so thanks for that too.”

Jason considered arguing the point. Ultimately didn’t bother. He didn’t like fights he couldn’t win.

“The faster you eat the sooner I do,” he pointed out instead, heading back to the stove and pouring more batter.

Ducked a strawberry flying at his head. Whether Danny actually threw it or not didn’t really matter. He caught it as it circled back and ate it.

“Or you eat the next stack yourself and I’ll take the stove,” Danny argued behind him, half a pancake ready to be stuffed in his mouth.

Jason considered arguing again. On principle more than anything else; he enjoyed cooking, and enjoyed having someone around to eat his food.

It felt comfortably domestic, which couldn’t really be said about much of his life before. Almost like the days he’d spent learning to cook with Alfred.

Alfred never sat and ate with them. Jason fucking hated that.

Sighing to himself, he pulled down another paper plate. At the table behind him Danny cheered in victory and Jason snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Do you even know how to make pancakes?“ he asked, not quite looking for an out so much as wondering how fast he should eat.

Danny just shrugged, now dumping jam on his pancakes.

“So long as they don’t fight back I’ll be fine. Bubbles on the top, right?”

Abandoning the pancakes for now, Jason turned and squinted at him.

“I have this weird feeling that isn’t a rhetorical statement,” he said dryly. Danny grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

“That’s because you are smarter than you look. And why you don’t keep ectoplasm in the kitchen,” he added more thoughtfully and shrugged.

Jason made a face.

“And yet you still want me to fucking eat it?” He’d not exactly liked the idea before, and this wasn’t helping.

Danny just shrugged again.

“Hey, at least it doesn’t reanimate the food inside you?” He offered, like that was a normal collection of words to say.

Jason stared at him long enough for one of the pancakes to begin to burn. Hurriedly flipping the lot, he turned back to glare at a snickering Danny.

“Well I wasn’t fuckin’ worried about that before,” he said dryly, keeping half an eye on his now slightly charred pancakes.

Danny chuckled, stuffing the last jammy pancake in his mouth and rising.

“And now you don’t have to. We do gotta get your ecto-snack situation sorted today though. We kinda got side tracked with the gala stuff,” he mused, coming to join Jason at the stove.

He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean Jason was eager to start chugging the green goo. Sighing to himself, Jason poured his pancakes onto his plate.

“I’m not eating the pancakes if you burn them,” he warned then headed to the table.

Sure, he and Danny weren’t technically sitting and eating together, but it wouldn’t feel right to hover. All the damn syrups were still on the table too.

Danny gave him a thumbs up, dolloping out three pancakes a little larger than Jason had, and swearing when their edges immediately ran together. Teach him to mess with perfection.

“Ah fuck… so I guess the question is, Jason Todd-Wayne, what do you wanna do with the first day of the rest of your life?”

And wasn’t that a good fucking question?

Bruce slowly lowered his Justice League Dark communicator until he could glower at it, plastic casing creaking in his grip.

Fourteen hours. Fourteen whole hours since he had asked to speak to John Constantine, and none of their so called mages could be bothered to find him.

Nor had any of them ventured an opinion on the Amity Park situation, though Zatanna had promised to look into it. No, they all insisted that only Constantine had seen that file.

Probably because he was already successfully evading Bruce. But that would not last forever.

Tired red eyes turned back towards the multiple screens of the Batcomputer, the rest of the night’s failed searches.

There was plenty to read on Amity Park. All about the fabled hauntings, the tourist trap, various budding ghost hunters and paranormal enthusiasts daring each other to go or telling each other not to bother.

Amity Park was quiet now, apparently. There was still the occasional blurry, mostly static footage of a “ghost attack”, narrated like a play at the puppy bowl, but for the most part the internet had deemed Amity Park a dead zone.

And it all dated back to the same rough time period as those hundreds of calls to the Justice League. The same time from which Amity Park had never called for aid again.

It could be that whatever was attacking them, whatever had been mistaken for ghosts or a hoax, had been beaten. Had gone away on its own.

Bruce Wayne did not believe in that kind of luck.

There was nothing official within the city’s limits.

Not a school transcript for Daniel James Fenton, transferred to Gotham University after two successful years at the University of Illinois.

Nor for Samantha Manson, or Tucker “Too Fine” Foley, a hacker seemingly skilled enough to have Tim and Barbara running into walls at every turn.

There was, however, one thing that Tim had come up with last night after he’d returned. There were no social media accounts that listed Amity Park as a current address.

There was an ever growing crop of new accounts that claimed to be from Amity Park alums. And some of them had clearly noticed some censorship.

A particular young lady with long dark hair had gone on an impassioned video rant, and while she had not said the words Amity Park, she had avoided them pointedly and deliberately.

Clearly the people moving away from Amity Park had noticed that their social media was locked down. Apparently Tucker had even mentioned it, but Tim had expected to find a work around.

There was no work around. Tucker’s PDA must have been his from Amity Park. Fortunately the man would still be in town, and Tim had agreed to catch him before he left.

If there was a way for them to look into Amity Park, Foley would likely know first hand. Bruce trusted Tim to get the information they needed.

He refused to let Bruce enter anything about an organisation called the GIW into the Batcomputer. Seeing the defences around Amity Park, Bruce had reluctantly agreed.

Still, the lack of data was infuriating.

Jason was still with Danny, and Bruce had a terrible sinking feeling that Danny Fenton had a lot to do with what was wrong with Amity Park.

No point trying to talk to Jason while the two were together. He’d have gone looking for them last night to try some recon instead, but Alfred had hidden his grappling hooks.

Bruce knew he shouldn’t swing through the city with a concussion; Alfred wasn’t wrong to have done so. It was why he hadn’t objected.

He’d tried sending Tim to spy on Jason Danny in his place, but Tim had insisted he had better avenues to investigate.

Bruce would find the time to have that talk with Jason, though. About the gala, but more importantly about just what he really knew about Danny Fenton.

Dick had given them what they’d presumed was a vigilante alias; “Phantom”. It seemed that Danny expected them to look him up.

Was he mocking them? Calling himself a ghost in the machine, a data “phantom” that wouldn’t exist? Or perhaps a reference to Amity’s ignored cries for help? The ghosts no one had believed were real?

Somehow Bruce didn’t think so. If Danny knew who they were, he would know the resources at their disposal. Even if Bruce physically had to walk into Amity Park and buy a phone, he would.

There was one other disturbing alternative.

The Fenton parents had been well known in certain scientific and parascientific circles for decades now. They were cited in numerous papers, usually only for their inventions. The authors made that clear with a rather worrying level of detail, but not why.

What was so abhorrent about their theoretical work that made their own field shun them? What methods had been bad enough to be decried at the mere mention of their name?

Their home, Fentonworks, was marked as a tourist spot for other ghost hunters, and photographs showed a truly ridiculous space ship design tacked onto the roof.

They had also been laughed out of much of the scientific community for their research on ghosts. Primary interest: destroying any ectoplasmic entities they came across.

Yet he couldn’t find any of their original papers. None of the theories, methods, anything they had published. Even where they had been linked before, instead of the work there were now only bold retractions, apparently by the Fentons’ own hands.

Many of their inventions were weapons. Some that made even him flinch, and he didn’t even believe in the creatures they were designed to hurt. And for all that the design specs insisted they wouldn’t harm humans… Bruce doubted it.

Had this couple put weapons in their childrens’ hands when Amity Park was under attack? Had Danny and his sister, Jazz, been drafted into a fight that should have been the Justice League’s?

Bruce hadn’t expected that Danny would have seen anything in Amity Park to rival Killer Croc, but now he kept replaying those first moments of the fight.

Danny hadn’t been angry. He hadn’t been scared. He had been gleeful, throwing himself at a massive green man with teeth and claws. And while none of his fighting was exactly professional, there was a shadow of training there.

Of experience.

Bruce did not like to think what that experience might be.

Because… Amity Park may have stopped calling to the Justice League because they’d won, and were no longer in danger.

Or they may have stopped calling because there was no one left to be saved.

“Oh, and we’ve definitely gotta see Sam and Tucker before they go, you still need your Fenton Phone,” Danny pointed out over another bite of pancake.

He’d done a reasonable job of cooking, so they’d traded off a couple more times and finally split the last batch between them to share at the table.

It was nice; better than taking turns, and while their day planning had been pretty sporadic, Danny felt good about today.

Of course, he’d gotten to sleep in and woken to The Best Pancake Breakfast Imaginable, so it was already a great day. Jason chuckled across from him, and Danny let the easy grin take over as he chewed.

“Right, I forgot that too. Guess we were just too busy with the whole gala thing,” the taller man mused, a fond smile on his own face.

Jason had a really pretty smile. Danny got the feeling he didn’t do it often enough; not because of anything overt he said or did, but just for the little moments.

Where Jason would be laughing then stop, like he couldn’t quite remember how laughing worked. The occasional moments of surprise in his aura when Danny grinned at him.

And that was just plain illegal around Team Phantom, so Danny was gonna make him laugh and smile as often as he physically could.

Now, he grinned right back, reaching out to gently kick him in the shins.

“Hey, that was also a super important mission. We’ve just gotta do our ghost homework before your next visit to Frostbite so you don’t have to witness the Sad Yeti Face.”

He was mostly kidding, but Frostbite did have an uncanny ability to make Danny feel bad whenever he didn’t follow instructions. Most of his teachers would have killed for such an ability.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t stop smiling as he shrugged.

“Okay, so ectoplasm horror stories aside, it’s gonna take me a couple days to source a fucking lead lined vault to store the stuff in. That mean we’ll push back the visit to Frostbite too?” He asked and Danny hummed thoughtfully.

“It has already been a couple days… guess it’s up to you. How are you feeling?” Danny asked, cocking his head curiously.

No matter what Frostbite said, Jason’s aura didn’t exactly feel all that different to Danny. He still didn’t quite feel like a ghost, couldn’t feel a core.

Maybe the ectoplasm residue felt stronger? But honestly Danny wouldn’t swear to it. It wasn’t like there were defined levels to that stuff.

Jason considered the question for a while too, probably taking stock. Like Danny had said, it had been a couple days. But they hadn’t exactly been together for most of them.

Frostbite figured a couple days directly in the zone, maybe a couple more here. With Danny. Although they also didn’t exactly know how much proximity mattered.

Same city probably wouldn’t cut it, honestly… unless it had been going on all year, and they were just nearly done?

Too many variables. And Danny had the joy of watching Jason come to what was actually probably literally the same conclusion as the larger man sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“Honestly? I feel good,” he admitted, sounding more like he regretted that. Or like he couldn’t believe it? “I feel more like myself than I have in years. I just… don’t feel different. More ghosty or whatever.”

Danny hummed thoughtfully at that, playing with his cutlery on the plate. It did make him wonder too.

“It’s been a long time since I first changed, but honestly? I don’t remember feeling all that different, in my human form. It was more that I had a whole bunch of extra powers to try and control.”

Jason made another face, stabbing his last bite of pancake.

“Yeah, that part too… how are we gonna keep that quiet? Seems like it’ll be pretty obvious if I’m gonna start falling through walls and shit.”

Musta to have noticed that as funny as Danny’s old accident stories were, they were also gonna be his soon.

Danny could be magnanimous now that he was the one with the experience. And he’d never had to deal with a bunch of nosey bats. Just stupid teenagers.

Keeping Jason’s secret was gonna be a lot harder.

Pursing his lips, he drummed his fingers against the table. If only there were more halfas.

“Okay, so… the way I developed my powers was different from Vlad, cuz I changed right away and he changed slowly. You’re sorta in between, so I don’t know exactly what’ll happen?”

He glanced over at Jason, who did not look noticeably reassured. Smart guy. Danny puffed a breath up to ruffle his bangs.

“Keeping our theme of honesty? Might be easiest if you can hide out in the zone for a month or so. You’ll get better the more you use your powers, and I or someone else can be around to get you out if you phase into something and get stuck.”

Jason groaned and propped his elbows on the table, dropping his head into his hands.

“I cannot just disappear for a month,” he grumbled, hands fisting in his hair in frustration.

Which, yeah. Danny could sympathise. He shrugged.

“I mean, I’ll definitely be around if you get stuck here too? And it might not be that long, depending on how much you can actually use ‘em. I lived at home, I had to be subtle,” he reminded Jason.

Still not noticeably comforted. Gee, it was almost like this whole half ghost process fucking sucked. It was nice to have someone who finally got that.

Although… there had been one thing that always helped Danny get a handle on his powers.

“We could always half and half it?” He offered, spreading his hands and grinning. “You work out how long you can be away for without raising suspicion. We go on a couple short Ghost Zone vacations and do the Ghost Powers Speedrun.”

Jason raised a brow slowly again, leaning back and away from the table. He looked decidedly suspicious because again, smarter than he looked.

“And why wasn’t that the first plan?” He asked warily. Danny’s grin may have ticked a little to the wicked.

“Cuz originally I was gonna be nice to you. The speedrun version is pretty much just bootcamp. Remember I said fighting was a social thing for ghosts?“ he asked, grin spreading when Jason’s eyes narrowed immediately.

Yeah, he was following. And didn’t look scared, which was nice.

Jason huffed out a laugh and shook his head, his white patch of hair flopping just adorably.

“So the speedrun version is just Fight Club huh?” He asked dryly and Danny cackled.

“It’s me and maybe some friends kicking your ass til you can kick ours back,” he agreed and Jason snickered, folding his arms and smirking.

“So we’ll only be gone overnight. Good to know,” he said casually, chin rising just enough he could look down at Danny.

And fuck it should be illegal to look that good while still being a smug little fucker, buuuut Danny was half ghost. Even just thinking about a fight was pepping him up.

“Oooh, I’m telling Ember you said that,” Danny snickered, catching up his phone.

Making a note to remind himself. Wishing dearly he could get some of the younger ghosts to just remember that phones existed.

The memes in an all ghost group chat would be killer.

Jason looked thoughtful for a moment, like he’d already memorised the whole damn database. Hell, who knew what Robin training looked like? He might have.

But Danny was still pretty confident that no matter what Robin training included, Jason wasn’t gonna be prepared for his first ghost fight.

The Justice League always had such a hard time with enemies you couldn’t just punch. Although he was kinda excited to see if Jason still had any of his old Robin moves.

It’d be something to see a six foot tank of a man fight like a twink.

Fuck, it wasn’t like Danny had been paying much attention, but hadn’t the second Robin been tiny? He was sure he remembered Sam losing her shit about something like that.

Better not tell Jason though. No matter how he felt about teen heroes, odds he’d be happy to learn about Sam’s anti twink hero phase? Less than none.

Memorised the whole database or not, Jason must have placed the name, because he smirked again.

“Guitar ghost? Yeah, not worried. But you’d better have a whole lot more than you showed against Croc, or I’ll be the Ghost King next.”

Suddenly Danny was very very seriously considering throwing the fight.

Jason obviously noticed, cackling as he leant back in his chair.

“Hey, you could be my knight instead,” he teased, and Danny had to grin at that.

“Is it weird that I’d actually be way more comfortable that way ‘round?” He asked and Jason snickered.

Like there was a joke Danny wasn’t quite in on yet.

“Oh, fucking definitely. Trash talk aside though, your hand to hand needs work. No doubt you’ve got great ghost fighting skills,” he added, raising both hands before Danny could protest, “but you leave yourself way too open. If we’re doing Fight Club, maybe I’ll teach you some shit too.”

Oooh, Robin training indeed. Danny wasn’t ashamed to admit he fit the body type way more than Jason did now; big guy might have some moves he could use.

Just like the Robins, most of Danny’s opponents were a lot bigger than him. It’d be nice to have some of that cool flippy spinny shit to really fuck with Skulker next time he came around.

Danny leaned across the table, hand outstretched.

“Deal. Hey, can you teach me to do that flippy bullshit too?”

Jason leaned in to meet him, clasping his hand and grinning back, a slightly nostalgic look in his eye.

“Hell yeah. Though if you want the really fancy flippy bullshit, we might have to tag in Dick. I’m pretty fuckin’ good but he’s the acrobat,” he explained when Danny cocked his head curiously.

Danny hesitated for a moment, then shrugged it off. It wasn’t like Dick wasn’t gonna know his whole ghost deal by the next time they hung out.

“That’d be pretty cool actually. Is he the one who taught you?” He wondered, and watched Jason’s expression go through a dozen twisted emotions.

His aura leaned into the fond-sad-nostalgia-heart break. He hadn’t pulled his hand back. Danny gripped it a little tighter and didn’t relax til he felt Jason squeeze back.

“Yeah,” he admitted after a moment, voice just the littlest bit choked, “he spent weeks just teaching me how to fall safely. Said it was the first step in learning to fly.”

Before Jason died then. There was a weight of history to the words, and Danny didn’t try to answer it. Any comment he could make would just come out cheap.

“Trust me, you do not wanna go down there,” Tim warned without looking up, sitting sideways in Bruce’s office chair with his tablet on his knees.

Duke hesitated, looking from him to the old grandfather clock which hid the Batcave entrance. He’d been about to go and change for his afternoon patrol, but…

Well, he’d been in the cave already that morning. Seen the state Bruce and Tim were working themselves and each other up to. If Tim had fled the cave…

“How bad is it?” He asked cautiously, coming to cock his hip on the desk.

Tim was back in civvies, so not the very worst. On the other hand, he clearly hadn’t been to bed yet.

Which could just be normal Tim, honestly. But sticking around the manor?

Tim sighed, waving a hand at head height.

“B’s hunting Constantine like a bloodhound, and the JL Dark aren’t helping. It’s safer out of the line of fire. Did you catch last night’s briefing?”

It was a generous way to refer to the fucking spam in their vigilante group chat, but honestly? Given what he’d seen this morning, Duke wasn’t surprised.

As meticulous as Bruce usually was about reports, he also wouldn’t start them until he felt he had the data he wanted to cover.

It was never a fucking good sign when Bruce couldn’t find the piece of evidence he’d deemed essential over night, but Tim had put together a pretty concerning list of bullet points.

1. They still had no fucking clue what Danny meant about “Phantom”.

2. Amity Park had undergone something utterly disastrous about four years ago.

3. They couldn’t learn a damn thing about Amity Park from the outside.

Aaaand most fun of all, 4. They needed to catch up with Sam and Tucker again before either of them left town. See what intel they could get and if Tucker could help with their tech problem.

Duke was kinda looking forward to seeing them out of costume. They’d both seemed pretty cool, if a little old.

Yeah, he could justify ditching patrol to get some intel instead. He’d already been out in the morning anyway. He gave Tim a slightly lopsided smile.

“Yeah, I did. This your way of asking if I’m coming for milkshakes?” He asked casually, and paused when Tim blue-screened.

No. Way.

“If you’re what?” Tim asked faintly, staring into space instead of at his tablet.

If Duke thought he had a chance of getting away with it… he flicked his civilian phone out casually, raising it to show Tim and “coincidentally” flipping to his camera.

“Coming for milkshakes with the Amity Parkers,” he said casually, hitting record. It wasn’t the most natural angle to hold it at, but he had Tim’s face in focus and that’s what mattered.

If there was even a tiny chance Tim had been railing at the same list since Duke left this morning… oh man, this’d be good.

“You know, in the group chat.”

Tim’s tablet would have clattered to the floor if Duke hadn’t hastily shaped a shadow to catch it, hiding his grin as Tim nearly fell off his chair fighting his civilian phone out of his pocket.

Duke leaned back and kept recording, not needing to be subtle now that Tim’s focus was wholly fixed on the group chat.

Which had been blowing up since last night with selfies from Steph and Cass and their sleepover buddy, Tucker Foley. Looked like they’d been having a fantastic time too.

There were face masks, painting their nails, Tucker braiding Cass’s hair while she braided Steph’s, honestly it was all adorable.

Duke’s favourite was probably the last one from the previous night, Cass throwing a peace sign and leaning over to take a selfie beside the sleeping bodies of Steph and Tucker, curled around each other like puppies.

Tucker was wearing one of Steph’s oversized sweaters and spare track pants that were probably Dick’s, and Steph had actual pyjamas on. They’d clearly passed out half way through a movie.

Tim scrolled quickly through the pictures, mouth working silently. Duke could spot the exact moment he got to their conversation that morning, because he began mouthing along.

‘TheCainInstinct: Tucker says he must leave by tomorrow to return to school. Lunch plans?’

‘NotJustACop: make it early dinner & I can come by before my shift?’

‘StephBrownies(fanaticalthings tumblr): your shift doing what?’

‘NotJustACop: fuck u’

‘TheCainInstinct: changed your name for nothing’

‘StephBrownies: see you for dinner Dickie’

‘NotJustACop: nope don’t want to now’

‘StephBrownies: rofl then perish’

The bullying went on for a while, but ended with an agreement to meet for milkshakes at the mall. Just like normal young adults.

Apparently Tucker had already messaged Sam, and Jason had tagged in about half an hour ago to say he and Danny would join.

Duke had thought he’d be on patrol, but he’d be changing that response just as soon as…

Tim reached the end of the chat, stared at his phone for a long, despairing moment, then threw it backwards over his head and screamed into his hands.

Grinning to himself, Duke straightened and started backing towards the door, ready to run. The best part of the show was probably over.

“So, if we take your bike we can probably beat Danny and Jason to the mall?” He asked cheerfully.

Tim’s head snapped up, locked onto Duke’s phone, and his brows drew in. Duke ended the recording, turned, and ran.

Yeah, probably not both taking Tim’s bike. That was fine, Duke could head to the mall in what he was wearing.

He sent copies of the video to the family group chat and Babs directly, confirmed he was on his way, and stuffed his phone into his pocket without breaking stride.

All he had to do was avoid Tim’s clutches. No big deal.

Jason’s phone dinged and he glanced at it, then chuckled softly to himself.

“Guess Tim forgot to check the group chat,” he mused, putting his phone in the middle of the table where Danny could see it.

Someone had sent them a video. Well, sent Jason a video, but he was happy to share. Danny could just about recognise Tim, in sweatpants, massive eye bags, and makeup free.

Didn’t look like he’d slept since the gala. Or checked his phone, apparently, and Danny chuckled as he wrestled the thing out and began scrolling.

They’d gone through the pictures after finishing the pancakes, and they were all pretty cute. Danny was keeping some to send to Tucker’s sister.

Not quite enough to warrant the depths of that scream though, even if Tim did have the crush the Waynes all seemed to think he did. Raising a brow at Jason, Danny leaned both forearms on the table.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” He asked, lip ticking up into a half smile. Definitely a fun video, but he had the feeling he was missing context.

Jason chuckled to himself, glancing over at the other phone still beside the cooker. Danny wasn’t gonna ask. Better not have Bat stuff on his regular phone.

“Right, I forgot to tell you. Turns out they’ve had some trouble running down any information about Amity Park, and Tim spent most of the night beating his head against a wall,” he explained perfectly cheerfully.

Danny snickered along, then paused.

“Wait, was Tim at Wayne Manor?” He asked. Jason nodded cheerfully, giving a vague hand wave.

“Secret vigilante section, but yup,” he agreed cheerfully. A slow grin crept across Danny’s face.

“The same place Cass and Steph brought Tucker for their sleepover?” Danny asked slowly, although he really did know the answer at this point.

Jason’s grin was all delighted sibling violence.

“Yep,” he agreed again, popping the p. Danny snorted a laugh and shook his head, running both hands through his hair.

“Man I hope no one tells him that part before we get there…” he mused, glancing around the apartment. It wasn’t like he had much he’d need to bring.

He’d sort of been thinking about running home to change first, but Jason’s sweater worked. Now all he needed was pants. Not like the cold worried him.

Something else seemed to have occurred to Jason though.

“Actually… speaking of my family. You, uh… you’d know if Cass was like us, right?” He asked a little hesitantly.

Danny had to admit he was a little surprised by the question, but honestly? He hadn’t been kidding that the family was touched by death. He sat back, frowning thoughtfully as he considered what he’d seen of Cass.

Her death mark had definitely been the closest to Jason’s, but Damian had a taint of ectoplasm too. Still… if Jason’s contamination was faint, theirs were almost nonexistent.

More like a flavour in the back of his mouth than anything real. Way less than Tucker and Sam’s contamination, but that was to be expected; they’d grown up in Amity Park.

They’d been seasoned like soup.

Finally he shrugged again, leaning back in his chair.

“I would know, but… I don’t think she’s on her way to halfa status yet. She might be liminal, like the rest of my lot, and if she comes into contact with more ectoplasm it could always change? Why?”

Something had to have prompted the question.

Jason half smiled back, looking almost sheepish as he rose and started clearing the table. Danny hurried to help; they hadn’t put as much of a dent in the toppings as expected, but hey.

Snacks for later.

“It’s nothing really… just had the thought last night. Cass has a way of… understanding people. What you really mean, what you aren’t saying. Part of it’s body language, she was basically trained to do that more than talking, but… she gets me. Like you do.”

And that was just fucking adorable and Danny would be having the warm fuzzies about being compared to the clearly cherished baby sister later, but for now?

He frowned thoughtfully.

“I mean, there’s a chance she got some of the aura stuff. It’s different for everyone but the liminals… let’s just say you’ve heard Sam swear in ghostspeak, and when I say that PDA is part of Tucker’s body? I’m not kidding.”

Tucker’s connection to his tech was a little weird even for Danny still, who had to fuse bits of his ectoplasm into half of it to keep it running in the Ghost Zone.

Jason looked grudgingly impressed anyway, but still mostly concerned. They were talking about his baby sister just barely clinging to her humanity.

Danny gave him a gentle nudge of safe-won’t hurt-she’ll be okay, and knew Jason felt it when he rolled his eyes. Pushed fuck off-not stupid-I know-thank you back.

“So should we… tell her?” He asked a little more cautiously, a small frown on his face.

Yeah, wasn’t fun to tell people they’d come dancing too close to death to be legally considered people anymore. Though he’d have to take a closer look to be sure.

Danny pursed his lips for a moment, snagging an apple and taking a large bite. Chewed and even mostly swallowed before answering.

“Well, I can take another look at her first and see how bad it is? The little guy too, they’ve both been in the ecto. If it’s done anything to them, we can let them know then,” he added, Jason looking slightly alarmed that another of his siblings was… kinda still dead.

Still, might as well do their due diligence. Danny fixed Jason with a Look.

“But they’re gonna ask about you if we tell them.”

Seemed pretty inevitable to him, but from the way Jason’s shoulders suddenly tensed, he hadn’t thought about it.

When he hadn’t drawn another breath about a minute later, Danny gave him a gentle nudge.

“Look, it’s probably nothing. Maybe we mention it as part of your big reveal instead, once you’ve had time to come to terms with it. They gotta know to steer clear of those Lazarus Pits anyway,” he offered like an olive branch.

Jason grimaced.

“Trust me, we all already know that,” he grumbled, and Danny leaned in automatically.

It meant he felt Jason tense this time, but he didn’t move away. Let Danny take a little of his weight.

“Hey. She’s gonna be okay. Just like we are, right?” He prompted gently, and Jason snorted.

“Well I don’t fuckin’ know about you, but I wouldn’t call how I was doing last week “okay”,” he said sharply, and immediately shut down again.

Danny frowned, not quite sure how much he should pry into that. He’d never actually asked what brought Jason out to his own grave that night.

Obvious answer was something to do with the pit and its overwhelming anger, but just how much had it been hurting him? What had it been pushing him to try and do?

They really didn’t know each other that well, for all they’d been forced to info dump their lives. It was hard to remember, especially when things were going well; Jason just. Fit right into Danny’s life.

Like there’d always been a 6’ hole craving a musclebound tank to fill it. A sassy fucker who’d crack death jokes with him, tell him to fuck off and swear to protect him in the same breath.

Another boy who’d died violently, alone, and so badly needed the world to make sense again.

Catching Jason’s wrist before he could pull away, Danny pulled Jason around to face him instead.

“Dude. Last week you were alone with cranky ass ghosts in your blood, and no idea what the fuck to do about it. It’s better now, right?”

For a second he wasn’t sure what Jason would say. If he’d pull back. It felt like the other man was tensed and waiting for a surge of anger, something he’d have to fight back down.

Really wasn’t kidding about the pit fucking him up.

Jason was so fucking scared of himself that it made Danny fucking ache.

After a long moment, the taller man nodded his head minutely, and Danny grinned. Deliberately bright and cheerful. Nothing wrong here.

“Think how fuckin’ good it’ll be once you actually know what’s going on,” he offered and Jason snorted a laugh, turning away.

His shoulders were just a little lighter though. Just a little looser.

Danny considered tackling them, but Jason probably wasn’t quite in the mood to play horsey yet.

“Hey, did I remember to tell you you can probably get eye lasers?” He asked brightly, and Jason glanced back, raising an eyebrow at him.

That tiny smile on his face? That was Danny’s proudest creation yet. Definitely until his damn portal gun started actually working.

“I’m gonna be finding shit you’ve forgotten to mention for the rest of my fuckin’ life, aren’t I?” He asked with exaggerated resignation, like it was such a burden.

Danny snickered and swooned into him anyway, expecting to be shrugged to the floor.

“Well, great news about that, I don’t know if we can technically die of old age anymore? So you might be finding shit I’ve forgotten to mention for the rest of eternity,” he chirped, and Jason groaned dramatically.

Didn’t drop him though. That was another win.

“Not like I ever expected to die of old age,” Jason huffed almost under his breath, and Danny’s grip tightened on him for just a moment.

Yeah.

Danny hadn’t either. Not since he was fourteen.

Tim wasn’t in his office when Bruce rode the elevator up. That was… unexpected, but not unwelcome.

The poor boy had left around when Bruce was seriously considering throwing his communicator, and hopefully would be getting some sleep.

Bruce hesitated, glancing out the windows. Sunlight streamed in, the sun already past its zenith.

Had he really been struggling to contact the League for that long?

No, Tim was probably off with Tucker Foley, information gathering. Bruce wouldn’t disturb him; he was barely in the mood for his own quest for information.

Even the Watchtower hadn’t been able to provide any insight into Constantine’s whereabouts. It was frankly infuriating, though he did feel gratified by Clark’s reaction to his news.

Not that Bruce enjoyed upsetting the other man, but… well, it made him feel justified. Like he wasn’t overreacting.

Clark had hardly believed the scale of the problem at first, and Bruce had had to show him the logs. Which is when he learned another charming little detail.

The official Amity Park logs were purged. Tim had delved into deleted files to pull up the hundreds of missed calls, all of which should have remained in the file if they were hoaxes.

Someone had not wanted them to find out what was going on in Amity Park.

Well, when Bruce got his hands on John “Someone” Constantine, they were going to have a very serious talk about proper procedures.

At.

Length.

For now though, he forced the frown to clear and shook his head a few times. It might take him a minute to pull on his full Brucie smile back on, but he’d have time.

He’d need a full shower and change of clothes before he met with Vlad Masters, after all.

Constantine could try and hide the records all he liked, but Masters had been the mayor of Amity Park for years. Including, conveniently enough, the second year that Amity Park had been calling on an almost weekly basis.

One way or another, Bruce was going to get his answers.

Jason was… well, not fine, which had been the whole point, but he was doing better by the time they reached the mall.

Riding his bike usually helped, narrowed the world down to a destination and the wind on his face.

Did the mall have anywhere he could get that second helmet? He’d been slacking on that one, though since he now needed a lead lined safe (and probably something more portable to carry a fucking snacking supply of ectoplasm), he supposed he could work harder.

Danny clearly didn’t care, clutching his back like a koala and whooping into the wind. But not all of his prospective passengers were potentially immortal.

It wasn’t great learning which bad feelings didn’t belong to the pit, at least not entirely. He’d kind of really, really hoped this would mean he wasn’t always angry anymore.

Shoulda been smarter than that right from the start. He’d been angry as a Robin too, had been scolded by Bruce more than once for “going too far”.

Perhaps the seeds for what he was now had always been in him. Just needed the fertile soil of death to grow.

But it was easier to push those thoughts back without the weight of the pit behind them. With Danny’s arms around him, a warm and reassuring weight that kept him grounded.

Because hey, apparently a lot of things flourished from death, and awful jokes were also among them. And he just couldn’t make himself look at Danny with the same jaded, resentful eyes he turned on himself.

Danny was all light and energy and hope. If even he thought that he and Jason had something in common, maybe there was something here worth saving.

So yeah, he was doing alright when they made it to the mall. Tucker met them at the doors, still wearing a mix of hand me downs from most of the Waynes.

Had Danny thought to have him grab extra clothes before flying to Gotham?

The same Danny still wearing Jason’s massive sweater, a pair of Tim’s track pants, and his dress shoes?

No fucking chance.

Tuck didn’t seem put out by it though, grinning as he waved to the pair of them. He also had the promised Fenton Phone, which turned out to be… a single earbud.

Jason frowned down at the bud in his hand, turning it between his fingers. It was chunky, hooked over the ear and had a microphone, but he did have one important question.

“How the fuck do you call someone on that? Hell, you fucking told me it could text,” He asked bluntly, looking from Danny to Tucker.

As an accessory for a regular phone? No problem. But if there were more than three fucking buttons on the thing he’d eat it. In one bite.

The other two blinked at him for a moment, their expressions oddly identical. Then Tucker laughed and shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, the old versions we only had two or three buds that worked, so you didn’t have to wonder who you were calling. There’s an app now,” he added brightly, holding out his hand for Jason’s phone.

Jason hesitated for barely a second, remembering Danny’s comment about Tucker and technology, then handed over his civilian phone.

He’d already let Danny ectoplasm the damn thing, what’s the worst that could happen. Danny glanced over as Tucker began typing, then looked back to Jason.

“Texting works best with a smart watch. Do you have like a Fitbit or something?” Danny added casually and Jason rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

No point asking what Tucker was doing; it wouldn’t involve an app store.

“Do I look like the kind of guy who owns a Fitbit?” He asked rhetorically. Fitbits were for boogie Heights gym rats, not people who worked for a living, claims of durability or not.

They might be minorly impact, sweat, and water proof, but explosion proof? Jason’d be a happy product tester for anyone but Batman offering that kinda tech.

Danny and Tucker very clearly did not agree, sharing another extremely pointed look that made Jason wanna ask if Danny had forgotten to mention telepathy, then looking at him with a pair of raised eyebrows.

“Wwwwell,” Tucker started, dragging the word out like he didn’t quite want to call Jason an idiot. Luckily, Danny had no such compunctions.

“You’re six feet tall, have shoulders like a fuckin’ moose, and thighs that could choke out a tank, yes you look like a fucking gym bro,” he said dryly enough to desiccate.

Wait. He’d been looking at Jason’s thighs?

Jason almost glanced down, shifting from foot to foot as he leaned against the wall. He’d put a lot of work into his thighs, and they did a lot of work for him, but he’d never thought about the aesthetic.

Tucker snickered and snapped him back to the moment, which was unfortunately where Danny was looking at him like he was hopelessly adorable.

Jason looked up and away instead, well aware that the heat singing the tips of his ears meant he’d be pinking up.

He was the Red Hood. Most feared anti hero in the country, not just Gotham. He abso-fucking-lutely was not adorable. He just. Couldn’t tell them that yet.

“So, no Fitbit,” Tucker said finally, still very clearly deeply amused (and yeah, Jason could see how he’d hung out with Steph all night), handing Jason’s phone back, “you can just use the phone, it’s just not as convenient.”

Which… well. Maybe before Tucker went home Jason would have to fill him in on a little secret. Get the app in his mask.

It wasn’t like any of them had hated on Hood at the gala, despite having the opportunity? He just…

Didn’t want Danny to look at him the way Bruce did. Like he was a dangerous disappointment. A loose cannon.

He wasn’t quite ready to face that yet.

He could make do with the phone if he had to. Not like he was planning on calling Frostbite while masked up, or like this’d be the last time he ever saw Tucker.

Unless Tim killed the lot of them. Not gonna write that off as a possibility until they’d all arrived.

Glancing down at his phone, Jason quickly identified the new app and snickered, stuffing said phone into a pocket.

“Oui-chat? Really?” Beat the hell out of talking about… whatever the fuck just happened. And Tucker graciously let him have it with only copious smirking.

“Yeah, well, you can tell people it’s like Snapchat. Or whatever you want, honestly. The interface is all in ghostspeak once you open the app, so humans can’t use it,” he explained magnanimously.

Jason hesitated for a moment.

“When do I learn ghostspeak?” He asked cautiously, thinking both of Danny mentioning Tucker’s liminality, and… well, Cass.

Danny, obviously following, shrugged and began heading for the doors.

“You probably won’t notice you’re seeing it? Which, by the way, was great fun before Sam or Tucker could understand it too. It feels like speaking English but with more… emphasis.”

“Danny doesn’t speak it much,” Tucker added in a stage whisper as he and Jason followed, “it’s one of his king-perks.”

Ahead, Danny groaned and scrubbed both hands down his face.

“It’s not a perk if it fucking sucks, Tucker. Where are Cass and Steph again?” He asked firmly, clearly hoping to avoid the next question.

Jason would die again rather than miss the next question.

“What’s the perk?”

“Ghosts have to obey any command he gives them, or it physically hurts them. And it’s not always intentional, so he’s gotta actually think before he speaks,” Tucker added slyly, with the world’s most innocent smile on his face.

“If only it fucking worked on Cujo,” Danny groaned again, picking a direction at random and heading deeper into the mall. They could make the food court and desired milkshakes in a couple turns, so Jason didn’t correct him.

He remembered Cujo’s file too. Ghost dog. Damian would flip his lid when he found out.

Tim definitely wasn’t mad by the time he reached the mall.

Nope.

He was fine. Hardly his first all nighter, and if he’d been beating his head off the bullshit cyber walls surrounding Amity Park all night while Steph just hung out with the answer at her place, that was fine too.

He’d get to see Tucker now. See if he could borrow the PDA, or if Tuck had any tips on how to get anything through whatever the hell was isolating the town.

Hell, if he had any idea what was doing it, more the better.

It was better this way, really. Tim’d had all night to calm down, to think, to process the sudden and horrifying revelations about Tucker’s home town.

He wasn’t going to go and freak out on the guy in the middle of the mall. He could just go, and hang out, and chat about tech like they had at the gala. The subject would come up eventually.

Tucker would still have his Amity Park social media. Tim hadn’t found a new one.

And of course, civilian Tim Drake couldn’t ask about the secret Oracle file. Totally couldn’t. But, maybe, if they could get around to talking about hacking again and mentioned servers…

No, this was definitely for the best, and by the time he was actually walking through the mall he wasn’t even mad at Duke anymore.

Not like Tucker was going to get to see that video, it’d be fine.

He was… kinda surprised to see Damian already at the table with the others though. Tim seemed to be the last to arrive, barring Dick.

Kid even had a milkshake already, being slurped moodily while Steph and Tucker regaled the table with some of their adventures. Tim hadn’t notice him respond to the group chat.

He opted for the table instead of getting his own drink, since he could see Duke still in line. An actual solvable mini mystery would set him up nicely for a gentle interrogation.

Tucker’s attention snapped to him even as he walked up, and Tim definitely wasn’t smugly satisfied that he promptly ditched the story and his chair to run to greet him.

“Hey, dude, are you okay? They said you had to leave the gala early for a medical thing, should you be out?” Tucker asked, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

Like Tim might break at any second. Tim gave him a warm smile back, any annoyance tempered by the knowledge that Tucker… Tucker had probably seen some shit.

The kind of medical problems nobody could walk off. The kind where people did actually break if you touched them wrong.

Maybe his disappearing act hadn’t been a great idea. He felt kinda bad for worrying the guy.

“No, I’m fine now. Just accidentally banged off a table and hit an old surgery scar, Dick wanted me to get checked and make sure it didn’t mess up anything deeper. I’m good though,” he added with his best reassuring smile.

Tucker shadowed him back to the table, still flapping worse than Dick when Tim actually took a hit. The others gave him a much more restrained greeting, Sam and Danny definitely amused by Tucker’s antics.

With the pleasantries over, Tim turned to Damian.

“I didn’t realise you were coming, I didn’t think Duke had time to grab anyone on his way down.” Because Tim was chasing him like a bat hunting down blackmail footage.

But no one needed to know that.

Damian rolled his eyes and gave Tim a disdainful look.

“Please, Drake. I did not come with Thomas, Brown and Cain asked if I wanted to come on their way out with Foley.” And someone had to try and get actual answers, said the subtext, but for once Tim ignored it.

He had to, his brain just blanked.

“On their way out?” He asked weakly. Steph was watching him with a slow dawning glee that he just was not ready to handle on zero sleep.

Maybe he shoulda grabbed a coffee.

Damian gave him an utterly scathing look now, taking a hearty slurp of his milkshake.

“That is what I said.”

“I thought you went to Steph’s?” Tim asked in Tucker’s general direction. There was a low ringing in his ears, the world slowly distorting.

Tucker’s confused face was the only focal point left.

“What? No, Cass took us both back to the manor?” Tucker sounded even more confused, now looking at the rest of the table.

Tim let his head fall forward to thunk into the table with a heavy crack.

Upstairs.

They. Had been. Upstairs. The whole time.

In the same fucking building. Probably still awake when he’d gotten in.

He could have just gone and FUCKING ASKED.

Tim really, really, really wanted to scream again.

Tucker had gone back into a panic, hovering around his shoulders and asking if he was okay while the rest of the bats laughed at him.

The table creaked as someone leaned over it, probably Steph as she called gleefully into his ear,

“Oh, he’s just mad he didn’t think to come join us. I bet he’d have loved trying to break that unhackable server you set up for the Oracle, right Tim? Cass and I didn’t have any luck.”

Rolling his head to the side, he cracked an eye open to glare at her. Steph grinned back, entirely unrepentant and eager to watch her words sink in.

Unhackable server.

That he’d set up for Oracle.

That had closed after one use of the link, so Tim didn’t even get a peek at it.

That unhackable server. The one Tim had been planning to ever so gently tease the information to.

He’d just been letting the girls fucking play with it. Upstairs. Within a hundred feet of where Tim had sat, in the Batcave, fuming over both the server and the mysteries of Amity Park.

Tim was going to fucking kill someone.

Jason relaxed back in his seat at the food court, watching Tucker flutter around Tim’s shoulders with a broad grin as he sipped his milkshake.

Yeah, that realisation had been absolutely everything he’d hoped for. Poor Timmy was gonna have to learn one of these days to look past the end of his own nose when he had a case.

Not that any of the bats weren’t victims to hyperfocus, but that was exactly the point. The rest of them would remember to eat, and occasionally even sleep.

Timber would probably die hunched over his laptop before he hit thirty if they couldn’t teach him to at least remember he had a body.

He was kinda the only Robin who hadn’t already died, now that Jason thought about it. Maybe he was due.

Fuck Tim would be an annoying ghost though.

Beside him, Danny caught Jason’s eye and grinned as well, the two of them sharing a quiet moment under the rowdiness of the rest of the table.

Duke, his timing pristine, had arrived back just in time for Steph’s announcement and swung down to sit with a delighted cackle. He joined Cass in gently prodding the downed Timbit while Steph cheerfully explained things to their Amity Parkers.

Not that Sam looked in the least concerned, but she did look curious. Tucker was still flapping around like a headless chicken.

“Tim’s just not had his coffee, he hates hearing he’s missed all the fun,” Steph explained with a casual wave of her hand.

Tucker, ministering angel that he seemed determined to become, snapped to at the words.

“Coffee? I can run and get you some Tim, what kind do you like?”

“He drinks coffee like Danny,” Jason called across the table before anyone else could try and articulate the hell that was Tim’s regular order.

Tucker perked up immediately and headed off, while all heads (including Tim’s) turned to look at first Jason, then Danny.

Who just shrugged.

“Normal coffee hasn’t had any effect on me since I died. What’s your excuse?” He asked Tim, and Jason stifled a snicker.

They had had a quick talk about how much to give his siblings at breakfast. Because as much as Danny figured it was inevitable, it was also just… really funny to fuck with them.

Especially since so far? Apparently they had nothing at all. That was a temptation far too great for either halfa to resist. And Jason knew just how to play it.

Drop obscure little hints and reminders, and most importantly? Pretend they both thought the others already knew everything.

Luckily Danny clearly agreed.

Tim opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then sighed and let his head drop back to the table.

“I hate the way coffee tastes,” he grumbled into the plastic tabletop.

“And he needs it strong enough to kill an elephant,” Duke agreed cheerfully, ruffling Tim’s hair and taking a big sip of his milkshake.

Tim rolled his head up enough to glare at Duke, then sighed and settled back in his seat, glancing around for Tucker.

“So, what happened at the gala last night? I missed the show,” he added, with a mostly convincing little pout.

If Jason hadn’t known damn well that Tim was off obsessing and driving himself up the wall the whole time, he’d have believed Tim had missed out because of circumstances beyond his control. Which, to be fair, his obsessive tendencies might be.

Not that he’d get that checked out or anything. But Jason had no room to talk.

Luckily the ladies had all been present, and were happy to regale him with the full details of Danny and Jason’s little closet scene, and Sam’s ensuing explosion.

The woman herself sat mostly silent and smug, content to let Cass, Steph, and occasionally Danny sing her praises. Duke couldn’t exactly chime in in mixed company, but he ate it all up with glee.

Their leaving had been all the catalyst for disaster he’d hoped it would be. Cass even had some video that she pulled up for them to enjoy together.

Which then led into what had happened for the rest of the gala.

Honestly Jason was almost sad he’d missed it. The video montages were incredible, and even Tim managed to crack a smile.

Tucker had returned before they finished the story, massive coffee in hand that Tim took a cautious sip of, before immediately downing half. So yeah, Jason called that right.

As if the world needed two syrup-and-espresso fuelled maniacs.

Tuck was still hovering a bit around Tim, but settled now that Tim had recovered enough to give him another smile and ask for stories.

Honestly, crowding the full group of nine of them around a single phone screen at a time should have been uncomfortable; just getting the bats together would have been a mere week ago.

But it felt so natural to come and stand behind Danny, tucked right into Duke and Cass, Tucker and Tim at his other side, all peering down at Steph’s phone. Even Damian, firmly on an end, stayed close enough that he could watch.

Little shit had probably stayed in Robin last night. He had an even harder time letting himself have fun than Tim did.

They stayed in the food court for a couple of hours, just catching each other up and sharing stories. No one actually asked what Danny and Jason had done once they’d disappeared.

Danny filled them in anyway, explaining animatedly how he’d kicked Jason’s ass at Mariokart… which Jason wouldn’t deny specifically so none of the others were prepared for Danny’s brand of fucking cheating when the time came.

He just grinned and casually mentioned that that was around when he’d checked the group chat. Dropped Sam’s theory on Bruce.

The fucking temptation to ask her about that directly was just omnipresent, and if Jason trusted any of them to keep a straight face he’d have done it the second the goth arrived.

As it was, Steph was already breaking into muffled giggles whenever she looked Sam’s way after that reminder, and Duke had his lips pressed together like he didn’t trust his face.

None of them doubted she’d have a full Batman-is-a-sugar-baby speech ready, delivered to Bruce Wayne’s assorted wards or not. Samantha Manson was not a woman to shy from anything.

Jason was just holding back til Dick arrived to set her off. None of them deserved to escape unscathed.

It was… nice.

Jason hadn’t been a teen in years physically, and a lot longer emotionally. This was what he’d always wanted but never quite had.

A carefree day at the mall, with all of his younger siblings for probably the first time ever, and his new friends too. Though Sam and Tucker were hardly there as just his or Danny’s friends by that point.

Tucker had gotten himself firmly adopted by Team Batgirl, and only Babs herself hadn’t yet ratified the decision. Not that that’d take long though, since as far as Jason knew, Oracle still hadn’t broken Tucker’s server.

Tim was doing a damn good job of not biting Tucker’s hand off for a chance at it too, though that might have been because Tuck had immediately promised to give Tim a link that afternoon.

Still, Jason was a little impressed; Tim had gone from exhausted grump to bright eyed and grinning, in just one massive-and-possibly-lethal-to-humans coffee.

Only a bat would spot the tension still creasing the corners of his eyes. The weight of questions he couldn’t ask in public on his shoulders if not his face.

Even Damian was taking his lead from Tim today though; keeping it light, just hanging out and getting to know the Amity Parkers. It’d give them a better shot at getting to a more private location to ask questions later.

Some shit needed a little more security than the mall offered.

Sam was probably the most reserved, but far from the quietest. She was more than happy to cut into any story, razzing Danny and Tucker with a proficiency that was almost sisterly.

If she was jealous Tuck got to spend the previous night hanging out with the girls, it didn’t show.

Even Duke fit right in, introducing himself with ease and enjoying being “caught up” to the story from start to finish.

It was just… so normal. Milkshakes became a late lunch, became wandering through the mall, became a trip to the park as they waited for Dick.

Even Damian reluctantly bonded with Sam over their shared vegetarianism and activism as they passed a hotdog stand that made Tucker drool. Their combined assault did nothing to sway the guy either, so Jason marked him down as a stomach of steel.

He could feel the others keeping an eye on him, the glances that lasted a little too long if he was quiet. Checking for danger. Checking in.

It should have riled the pit, it always did when he caught them before even if he could shove it back down, but today? There was nothing to shove.

He was still worried about Cass, but if Danny didn’t have a firm answer by the end of the day they’d need to bring her with them to Frostbite anyway, so he was already doing all he could.

She didn’t look half dead. But then, nor did Jason or Danny, right up until Danny did.

Honestly, right now even the worry felt distant and low, washed away under a wave of… well, it couldn��t be nostalgia for something he’d never had, right?

But it felt like finally having a wish come true. Every time he’d spied on the bats and seen them just relax, just be a family, and ached that it couldn’t be his. Every spiteful, lonely little thought that used to feed the pit.

There was nothing for them to cling to right now. Here he was, in the middle, laughing at their jokes and telling his own. It was so much better than he’d have ever dreamed.

A couple glances to let him know they were still looking out for him couldn’t hold a candle to that.

Vlad had to admit he was somewhat surprised to receive a message from Brucie Wayne just the day after the gala. He hadn’t even had time to arrange his little apologies for the boys.

And yet, here the man was, asking to meet him for a private lunch in what was practically an open invitation to overshadow him. Why, it was the perfect scenario he’d thought he’d have to make himself.

And yet.

For the first time in a long time, Vlad found himself unsure as he waited for the man to arrive.

Young Jason definitely had the feel of a halfa to him, though not as strong as Daniel. Jason felt more… incomplete, and yet painfully familiar to Vlad.

Almost as if the boy wasn’t finished forming, just as Vlad hadn’t over those long years of his change.

Now, an overshadowed Brucie could potentially be useful in introducing Vlad into Jason’s life a little more, had Vlad still believed the boy saw him as a guide and father.

That little display at the gala had thrown more than just Brucie’s usefulness into question though. While Jason certainly didn’t seem to care for Brucie’s authority (and who would?), he clearly cared for the man.

If Vlad overshadowed him, that would put them off to the same unfortunate start he’d had with Daniel.

Six years wasn’t quite so much to a middle aged man as it was to a teenager, but Vlad could admit that he’d been a very young ghost when he met Daniel. He’d been… impulsive.

And gripped tight in the throes of his Obsession.

Now, older, more mature, (and with a better understanding of what his Obsession actually required) Vlad had to question his original methods.

He had never wanted Madeline as some kind of puppet. The thing he loved about her was the very spirit that made her so resistant to him; taking it away would kill the only part of her that he truly desired.

And young Daniel…

The boy who had been the only other like him in centuries, if records were to be believed. Madeline’s son, and perhaps that had also clouded his judgement.

Oh, Daniel was brash, impulsive, sloppy, ignorant, and highly resistant to even the gentlest advice. He was also brave, loyal, kind, and capable of a self sacrifice Vlad still just couldn’t understand.

Daniel would not take him overshadowing Brucie Wayne lightly. Had likely come to the gala expressly to make that clear.

And if Daniel and Jason were serious about this relationship of theirs… that meant that Brucie would eventually be Vlad’s brother in law.

Just Vlad’s luck that the universe would saddle him with yet another hulking himbo rather than an intellectual equal, but at least Brucie had an appreciation for the finer things in life.

More in his head than ham and fudge anyway.

Still, he could tolerate it. Daniel needed some supportive adults in his life, and Vlad could acknowledge he had work to do before that could be himself.

Brucie should at least be an amicable father in law, and another point of contact to help Vlad persuade Daniel that he really had changed. Really had listened to the boy’s pointless ranting about doing the “right” thing.

Vlad still couldn’t see the point. No matter how unethical his own business dealings were, there was no ethical way to become a millionaire, let alone billionaire. While Vlad himself wasn’t exactly redistributing the wealth, that didn’t mean Daniel couldn’t once Vlad acquired it.

Too bad Brucie already had a neat handful of heirs to his business. Having Jason take it over would have neatly solved Vlad’d dilemma, but ah well.

If nothing else, he was resolved to try nothing untowards on the man today. Whatever it was Brucie wished to discuss, Vlad could at least be amiable, helpful, and see what the man thought of their boys together.

After all, the very last thing Daniel needed was a father figure who treated him poorly. The poor boy was already far too used to that.

It was almost funny how easy it was to convince their Amity Parkers to come to dinner at Wayne manor. Cass hadn’t expected it to be hard of course; she just got the feeling some of her brothers were a little surprised with how easily Steph floated the idea.

Silly boys.

Steph delighted in being the one who could just drop whatever she felt like into the conversation. It saved a lot of time that their more circumspect members would spend overthinking.

Cass knew she had a bad habit of overthinking everything, but Steph was helping her with it. It was easier when she didn’t have to speak aloud.

Making noise just didn’t come naturally to Cass the way it did the others. Her job had always been to be rarely seen, never heard; just a shadow.

It was a little too easy to fall into old habits around her louder siblings.

Sam also seemed to have noticed, because if Cass fell to the back of the group while wandering, sometimes the goth girl was just beside her. Smiling, signing their own little conversation while the others talked.

Sam knew curses in ASL that Cass had never come across, and some of them had to be spelled out. Cass made sure to remember those though. When Alfred had taught her to sign, he’d somehow neglected most of the profanity.

She had the sneaking suspicion he definitely knew all the signs, but it was hard enough to get the prim and proper butler to even whisper “fuck”.

Sam, Sam swore in all her languages as easily as she breathed. It might be a young adult thing.

Not that any of Cass’s brothers seemed to have grown out of it.

By the time Dick joined them, they’d wandered all the way to one of the downtown parks. Gotham didn’t have many open spaces that were what you’d call safe, but with Ivy both having been present, and now out of town?

Green space was about as good as it got, so long as you made sure you could always see your feet. The faint dusting of snow was mostly undisturbed once they left the streets for narrower walkways; not everyone knew Ivy was gone.

It was a definite improvement over the grey and brown slush along the sidewalks and roads, and it hadn’t taken long for Duke to cheerfully declare a snowball fight.

And by “declare” she meant “grab a handful of snow and throw it at Jason’s head”. It didn’t quite pack hard enough to do more than explode on impact, sending puffy snow everywhere.

For a moment Cass had almost worried, but Duke never did. He was packing his second snowball, selecting Tim as his next target, and sure enough?

Jason had actually laughed, dived knee first into a drift and began packing his own snowballs. The batfam scattered, no one willing to trust an alliance with their siblings.

In an odd contrast, the Amity Parkers moved into an immediate alliance, packing snowballs and selecting a tree. They must do a lot more teamwork in the field.

Maybe they could help train some of Cass’s older brothers in the finer points of said teamwork. Cass had been prepared to do her usual ninja bit, disappearing into shadows only to strike from unexpected angles.

And then Sam had grabbed her wrist, grinning and tugging her behind their tree.

“Help me build a fort,” the goth girl declared, a glee that would have shocked anyone fooled by her dark exterior all over her face.

A stationary position was more dangerous; it left them vulnerable to attack and siege, with few recourses if they were overwhelmed. A large group was obvious; none of the other bats would miss them for long.

Cass hadn’t even hesitated. She dived straight into the snow behind Sam, helping her scoop snow into walls and fortifications. Tucker and Danny kept up a steady stream of snowball production until they had a stack nearly waist high.

Cass could still pick out each of her siblings, mostly red cheeked and all bearing a dusting of snow. They’d immediately gone for each other, old rivalries taking precedence over quiet newcomers.

That was clearly a mistake.

Ten minutes had given them time to build a stock of weaponry and mount a defence, something none of the bats had bothered with. They weren’t exactly stationary defenders.

Their walls complete, Cass was happy to start pelting her siblings whenever they came into view, along with her new comrades.

Sam’s aim was particularly good. Unsurprisingly to Cass, who had had her suspicions about the thermos toss last night. This tracked with what she’d seen, and what Tucker had told her about Sam.

And honestly, given what Harley was likely going to do to Bruce, a knock with a thermos was only the beginning of his troubles.

Good.

People might not expect Cass to be particularly familiar with the damage words could do, but that was because they forgot that the victim didn’t need to speak back.

Bruce hadn’t meant any harm, but that had nothing to do with how much harm he’d done. And Sam hadn’t meant any serious harm by clocking him with a thermos, so that was none of Cass’s concern.

It hadn’t taken long for the rest of her siblings to notice the fort and try to adjust their strategies. Steph immediately tried to rope Jason, Duke, and Tim into her own team, but it was much too late.

There was nowhere within range for them to build their own fort without taking constant fire from Fort Amity. They had no choice but to try for sneak attacks… on Cassandra Cain.

Cass was deeply, deeply satisfied with how dismayed they all were when they realised.

Duke defected immediately, pleading for sanctuary. Tim threw himself on Tucker’s mercy. Steph decried them both as cowards, then tried for wlw solidarity.

Jason disappeared somewhere into the snow, which was still unfair for a 6’ mountain of man to be able to do.

Damian had tried to stay aloof from the vicious snow duel, proclaiming himself utterly disgusted by the very concept, right up until Steph dumped a handful of snow down the back of his coat.

The younger boy’s cries of his final vengeance had been what brought Dick to them.

And, honestly, it was Dick’s own fault that he’d driven his car right into the parking lot, flashed his lights, and asked what was going on in his cop voice. What had he expected to happen?

All participants in the snowball fight bar Damian had immediately turned on him, peppering both car and open window with snow. Even Steph managed a few flailed handfuls, Damian still sat firmly on her back and forcing her face down into a drift.

Dick had to duck down behind the door of his car, laughing as he was buried.

Which was, obviously, when Jason reappeared, rising from the snow like some kind of yeti and yanking the door open, hauling Dick out to toss him into a snow drift.

Duke broke cover, cackling in delight and charging.

“Get the cop!” He called, and Dick howled in laughter.

Cass hesitated for barely a moment, and that was long enough for Sam to decide. She hopped their barricade and charged, leaving the other three behind.

Tucker, Danny, and Cass exchanged looks, shrugs, and followed. They’d probably be heading right to Wayne manor for dinner anyway. They could have a last hurrah.

Far away in a beautiful leafy canopy bed, a phone buzzed. A slender, unnaturally pale hand flailed through the blankets, patting around to find the phone and almost knocking it further away.

The buzzing escalated to a beep, joined by a loud groan as a sleepy blonde, blue and pink head rose from the pillows to glower at the screen.

Saw a new message, missed from the night before.

Humming to herself, Harley Quinn flicked in her passcode to view the message. Soft heart shaped lips pursed in annoyance and she sighed, hauling herself roughly from the bed and patting the other lump in the sheets.

“Sorry, Pammy-petal, I gotta run. Our little kitty-kat’s having some big bad bat trouble,” she called in a sing song voice, pulling a pair of shorts from the floor to tug on.

Another sleepy groan came from the bed, a mussy head of red hair rising to frown tiredly at her.

“Do you need backup?” She asked, her voice low and rough with sleep.

Harley grinned, reaching back into the mess on the floor and shaking clothes from the handle of one of her favourite toys.

“Nah, babycakes, I’ve got a bat of my own,” she declared smugly, swinging the baseball bat over her shoulder and casting a last glance around the room. “Are you gonna be good here if I meet you back in Gotham?”

Pamela Isley, more notoriously known as Poison Ivy sat up slowly, stretching long arms up behind her head and twisting until her back cracked. Leaves rustled through the room, every plant turning slightly to orient themselves to her like she was the sun.

She was certainly the light of Harley’s life.

“I’ll be fine, Harls. I can wrap things up here in my own time and make my way back,” Ivy said with a slow, satisfied smile, glancing out of the window.

You’d never know that up until last week, the lush and blooming forest had been a series of office buildings. In another week, every last trace of concrete would be ground to sand.

Ivy had worked hard on her new formulas, and so far? The first test looked good. Really good.

Harley couldn’t wait to share her glory with the world. Rrrriiiiiight after she went and had another talk with her favourite rich boy about boundaries.

Bouncing back to the bed she threw herself back onto the mattress, pressing kisses all over Ivy’s face. And yeah, it sent Ivy tumbling backwards, laughing as her arms draped around Harley’s shoulders, but that was kinda the point.

Who knew when she’d have the chance to kiss those petal-soft lips again? Why, it might be a whole month! No, she had to get every last second of Pammy that she could.

She’d have plenty of time to get to the airport before the next flight for Gotham left. It wasn’t like she had much to pack.

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Next chapter:

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dp x dc #dead on main #dead on main ship #danny fenton x jason todd #dead and loving it chapter 9 probably #counting is hard #the mall episode #the one where we revel in tim’s self imposed suffering

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