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britcision · 1 year

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Hey guys guess what? We’re finally out of the dang gala! However, because we did go back in for the explosion, now the boys don’t get to kiss until chapter 15 at the earliest

This chapter’s a little darker than the rest, we’re getting back into Jason’s death and Tim has finally done a google on Amity Park

Most prominently featured is Jason’s self loathing however, so do prepare yourselves for that after the Mariokart

The link to AO3 is in the first chapter

First chapter:

Last chapter:

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Not Over Til The Goth Lady Says Fuck

Well, Brucie Wayne hadn’t died. Gotham escaped annihilation by a sliver. There might still be something of worth left in this dump.

Vlad wandered amongst the guests as they returned to the main hall, wondering idly where those bloody Wayne “children” had all gone.

For all that people were sooo protective of them, no one seemed to care where they were during the actual danger. Typical.

Not that he minded. Vlad would be quite happy not to run into any of them again for quite some time. He had fences to mend first, and no desire to provide more fuel to the fire.

There was some form of commotion off to one side of the hall, yet more yelling, and Vlad let himself drift over. Honestly, the voices were almost familiar…

Although some of the more choice words weren’t. Vlad assumed they were vile exhortations of some sort, especially from the gasps of those around him.

It was actually rather impressive. He thought he had a rather extensive vocabulary of curses, but someone was putting him to shame.

At least his little moving bubble of space was useful as he made his way through the crowds. People who got too close soon realised who he was and pushed their way into the crowds to avoid him.

No jostling for Vladdie today. Maybe it wasn’t the very worst after all.

He was honestly a little surprised to find Samantha and Pamela Manson in full duet. As much as Samantha always wanted to scream herself hoarse at these events, usually she kept a lid on it.

It took a moment for the words to sink in, to realise that Daniel and young Jason were at the center of even this little ball of ire. His jaw dropped.

“I CANNOT believe you?! Why is it ALWAYS like this, EVERY TIME?! I was DEFENDING YOU and you can’t keep your legs shut for a minute at a time!” Samantha bellowed, fists clenched and a glint of tears in her eye.

“You utter HARLOT! Shameless STRUMPET, leading that INNOCENT BOY astray! DISGRACING my poor baby girl, you are WORSE THAN YOUR PARENTS Daniel Fenton!”

Pamela was actually crying, being held by her husband to prevent her from either running to Sam or full on attacking Daniel.

Vlad was going to put his money on attacking. The Manson women had a worrying streak of rage. Although…

Brows furrowing he tuned out the noise for a moment (Pamela had clearly been reading a lot of period romances) and focused on the thread of emotion he’d picked up.

Samantha was… delighted. Vlad might have suspected it was just at the chance to finally scream at a gala, but there were no darker feelings anywhere.

She was having a wonderful time. And Daniel and Jason, for all that they looked contrite, for all that Daniel’s head was slumped, were equally delighted.

Something was going on here, something all three young people had orchestrated. From the content of the yelling and the state of undress…

Vlad’s eyes widened. Daniel was wearing Jason’s tie. Jason’s shirt was missing three buttons.

Well that would certainly put both young men in an excellent mood, but at a gala?!

He was quite sure his cheeks must have blanched at just the thought. He’d noticed they were fond of each other, but so soon?

Perhaps Jason would have to be a son-in-law rather than an actual son. He simply wouldn’t accept the other way round, no matter how much Daniel might resist.

Daniel was perfect… if apparently a little easy. Not disloyal though, which was something of a relief. He’d never have considered Daniel capable, since he was loyal to his friends long past the point of fault.

Even now, he was perfectly happy to be harangued by both Samantha and her mother to allow Sam to make some sort of point.

He was distantly aware of the crowd parting again, but didn’t turn to acknowledge the arrival of… Brucie. He looked a little the worse for wear, likely from the thermos more than the actual rogues.

A thin smear of blood at his hairline betrayed where the thermos had struck, and the faint shadow of an oncoming bruise. He should probably be having someone scan his head, but since it usually appeared to be empty that was probably of little concern.

Well, he wasn’t likely to pay Vlad any mind.

Not with this little display.

Bruce had barely had time to pull Damian aside in the hopes of a debrief before shrieks and yelling once more filled the dining hall.

It couldn’t be Harvey after all, could it? As annoyed as Robin clearly was by the distraction, Bruce had no choice. He headed to the center of the yelling.

No matter how much it made his throbbing head pulse.

It definitely wasn’t Harvey at least. While Two Face probably knew all of the words being yelled, he would never say more than half of them. Not even at his worst.

The thought almost dragged a smile out of him, but a particularly loud curse rang off the marble and set up echoes in his skull. At least one of the voices was almost familiar.

The crowd parted without him having to jostle through it, and he’d never been more grateful to Gotham’s high society. Didn’t quite think about why they might want to help him get to the center of the action.

Damian - no, still Robin until he changed, had disappeared into the crowd at some point, but Bruce forged on anyway. He’d probably gone back to help Red Robin watch over Croc.

For now, he just had to focus on whatever else had gone wrong this evening, finally stepping through into an almost clear patch of floor and what must have been the commotion.

And arrived just in time to see Sam Manson turning from berating Danny and Jason, to point an accusing finger at her mother. Pamela actually shut up in surprise.

“And YOU! This is ALL your fault! If you had just let me be with Valerie this NEVER would have happened! She would NEVER do this to me! I’m NEVER dating another man again!”

Pamela looked like she might faint, her face pale as her daughter’s words sank in.

It didn’t take Gotham’s best detective to work out what must have happened. A quick glance at Danny and Jason showed them both… far more dishevelled than simply making out in the closet would allow.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, clocking the missing buttons, ruffled hair, Jason’s still partially open pants, and his stomach sank.

At a gala. Even in the height of his playboy days, Brucie had never gotten caught at a gala. He had a sudden sympathy for Alfred and resolved to give the man his most sincere apologies.

If Bruce’s heyday was anything like this for the old man, he owed him far more than that. Maybe a fruit basket. A nice new shotgun.

He stepped forward quickly, taking advantage as Sam drew in a breath to try and inject some calm.

“I’m terribly sorry, but what has happened here?”

All eyes turned immediately to him and he spread his hands, gesturing for peace. Pamela rallied at once, pulling free of her husband and shooting Danny an utterly poisonous look.

“Oh I am so sorry Brucie, this is entirely my fault! We should never have brought that awful Fenton boy, he’s been CORRUPTING your poor Jason, taking advantage of him, he’s a dreadful influence!” She fluttered, clearly unsure where to direct her attention.

Behind her mother, Sam snorted loudly.

“It was Jason’s dick in Danny’s ass, MOM, I’m pretty sure he was involved!”

And that seemed to fluster both boys more than any of the previous yelling, Danny’s cheeks burning as he clapped both hands over his mouth. Jason was doing his best not to laugh.

Bruce gave him a Look, because they Would be discussing this later, and wasn’t in the least surprised when Jason just rolled his eyes. Still, there had to be limits.

Danny clearly had a far greater hold over Jason than he’d feared. It was an effort to force himself to remember Danny’s youth.

Bruce had been that age not all that long ago. And, as he’d just realised, probably a lot worse in certain specific ways. Perhaps they were just indiscrete. It didn’t all have to be a devious plot.

He gave Pam his very best soothing smile, taking her hand gently.

“It has been a very dramatic evening already, I’m sure the boys were just over excited. They will go and wash up and then Jason and I will have a quiet. Word.” He layered the last two words with intent.

Honestly, this was perfect. An excuse to get Jason alone, get a report direct from the source. Jason wouldn’t tell the truth, but Bruce knew him well enough to know what the lies he told concealed.

Sam Manson seemed equally derisive of the idea as Jason himself, shooting Bruce a vicious glare that looked eerily like her mother’s.

He almost took a step back. But she didn’t have that thermos anymore.

“Of course Famous Playboy Brucie doesn’t think fucking around with someone else’s partner is a big deal! Where do you think Jason learned it?” She snarked, sending an icy dagger straight into Bruce’s heart.

Had he done that? No, it was just his aching head. And the building wave of exhaustion. Jason knew as well as the others that the playboy thing was a front.

Had Jason ever had good relationship role models though? His parents certainly weren’t, and Bruce himself had definitely never been much of one.

If the closest thing he had was Talia, perhaps that explained why he’d fallen so easily under Danny’s sway…

His mind was wandering. Perhaps he should have one of his boys check him for a concussion.

As if summoned by his thoughts, suddenly Nightwing and Signal were there, pushing through the crowd. Thank all that was good that this was about to be not his problem for a while.

“Alright everyone, calm down, the cops are already on their way, let’s not also give them a murder,” Nightwing declared far too gleefully. It set off… something, but Bruce couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

Maybe taking the chance to head home early was a good idea after all. It wasn’t as though Jason would be courting donors for his own projects today.

No, Jason was courting much worse things, a dark little part of Bruce grumbled, and he fought to squash it down.

Jason was an adult, and whatever choices he made with other consenting adults, no matter how bad said choices were, were his own.

Since when were any of his baby boys old enough to be caught fooling around in closets?

Maybe he also needed to go and sit down.

Not getting to witness the explosion as himself kinda sucked, but Dick could accept getting to be there in costume instead.

It actually gave him an excuse to intervene, and meant he had a reason to try and pull Danny and Jason aside for Signal to get a good look at Danny.

They had hung back for a while, Nightwing not wanting to interrupt Sam’s frankly incredible vocabulary of curses, Signal just… trying desperately to work out what was going on.

Poor guy. Someone should have warned him.

Nightwing specifically probably should have warned him, but hey, too late for that now. Once Bruce had things mostly quieted down, Nightwing figured they should move in to wrap it up.

And sure, Sam was glaring at him again, but the big taser wasn’t actually in her hand yet so he was probably fine. He turned, giving Jason and Danny sweeping looks.

Not laughing got a whole lot harder when he took in the extent of their dishevelment. And the mostly unrepentant look on Jason’s face.

“Look, perhaps we should get these two young men to a bathroom, do some clean up and get you presentable again? And the young lady, wouldn’t you rather discuss this in private?” He offered brightly.

He knew full well Sam would not want to discuss it in private. But it gave her an excellent starting off point for another explosion.

Only helped when Pamela Manson immediately jumped on the idea.

“Oh yes, of course, we can all go and talk about things away from prying eyes,” she trilled, giving her daughter a significant look and not looking at their audience so obviously she might as well have stared.

Sam rallied magnificently, drawing herself up and sucking in a deep breath.

“And WHAT do you think I have to talk about with them?!” She demanded, and Danny took a very quick step back. Right into Jason, who caught him automatically.

Adorable. Nightwing wished he had a camera. The domino’s would had to do, and he took a couple quick snaps before turning back, not wanting to miss the fun.

Pam was now trying to calm her daughter down, like she hadn’t also been screaming invective and slut shaming Danny seven ways to Sunday.

She stepped forwards, hands held out placatingly, and stopped at Sam’s glare.

“Sammykins… I know you’re upset, but…”

“I would definitely like to leave,” Danny stage whispered, deliberately shifting in place.

Nightwing pressed his lips tight together to keep the smile from showing. Whether or not Danny and Jason were actually fucking in the closet, the boy committed to the bit.

“UPSET?!” Sam demanded, stepping closer to her mother now and making her back up.

As much fun as this part of the show was about to be, there was still a lil actual work to be done. Signal had definitely gotten a good look at Danny by now, but might as well get him alone.

Just to be able to prove it wasn’t anyone else in this room. Glancing around, he caught sight of Steph back in the crowd.

At least someone would still be there to enjoy the show.

He debated hauling Danny over his shoulder and carrying him out, but decided against it. Not least because he had no fucking idea where that thermos had gone, and didn’t want to find out.

Instead he clapped Danny on the shoulder, gave Signal a significant nod, and headed for the door.

“Seems like you might need a little protection, and I need to give you a once over anyway after tangling with Croc.” Fuck you Spoiler, he could steal her excuse.

Danny actually laughed at that, turning to head away as Sam gained rapidly in volume.

“Oh Jason gave me an extremely thorough going over, but you’re welcome to look too,” he agreed and Nightwing actually giggled. Just a little.

Flirty little shit. He could feel Pamela Manson trying to develop eye lasers. Danny was the perfect addition to the family.

Covered the giggle up before someone noticed and rushed them both to the nearest door, and down towards the backrooms. Following behind, Signal cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, uh… do either of you actually need a bathroom?” He still sounded lost, so Jason took pity on him once they had a closed door between themselves and others.

“Nah, we faked it to fuck with Sam’s parents. Danny does need a check for any broken ribs though,” he added.

Danny rolled his eyes, waving a hand in Jason’s direction.

“I’m fine, the big guy just tossed me around a little. I’m not even gonna bruise,” he said casually enough that Nightwing was gonna add like, 50 points to his “worry about New Favourite Guy” meter.

He raised a hand cautiously.

“That might just be the adrenaline. I’ve taken more than a couple rounds with Killer Croc and he can do some pretty nasty damage,” he offered warily.

Danny sighed like he was being asked something completely unreasonable and yanked his shirt up, showing off a skinny pale chest and stomach.

“Look, I’m fine, alright? Maybe if you considered getting good he wouldn’t hurt you either.” And yeah, Danny was a sassy little fuck and Nightwing snickered, but he was still worried.

Sure enough though, there wasn’t a mark on the kid. Not on his chest from being hit by Croc, not on his back from an impact that shattered tiles.

Signal let out a low whistle off to one side, and Nightwing had to wonder what the hell the meta could see. He himself though, he just had to raise his hands and admit defeat.

“Hey, if you say so. I’m just doin’ my job here.”

There was a moment of… something. Jason and Danny didn’t so much as glance at each other, but Dick would swear there was a moment of charge in the air, a bolt of communication.

Shared understanding that they’d done nothing outward to share.

Then Danny’s lips tipped up in a cocky grin and he snickered, looking Nightwing full in the eye.

“Yeah, whatever you say, cop.”

Danny wasn’t gonna mention it. Partially because of the way Jason had looked at him, calculating, sizing him up.

He’d never been looked at like that by someone who wasn’t immediately about to attack him. Even seeing Jason’s aura, no hint of aggression or malice in it, hadn’t helped.

It. He didn’t like it. Not from a friend.

He remembered the fear though, from back in the early days when Wes called him out. The fear of what losing that secret would mean for his friends, his family, the ones he loved.

Back before he knew everyone would roll their eyes and write it off. Back when he thought someone learning his secret was a threat.

Guess all vigilantes had some common experiences.

But hell, it wasn’t like the bats weren’t gonna know who he was by tomorrow morning at the latest. That was fine, so long as it didn’t lead them on to what Jason was.

They’d probably have questions, and if they were super lucky he might even bother to answer some of them. Hell, he might know the answers at all; that wasn’t a given.

But if they were gonna go nosing about in his life, he might as well really underline that he wasn’t just some little puppy that’d roll over and play dead.

He was a strong, independent half ghost who didn’t need no man.

So when Jason heard him sassing Nightwing and his whole aura became a gleeful mix of happy-amazing-get his ass, Danny sent a gentle nudge back.

Mischief-secrets-should I?

Felt Jason hesitate. Didn’t have to look at him to know the calculations he’d be running. Jason knew his family best. Would know how careful they needed to be.

Mischief-glee-fucking do it.

Maybe they were bad influences on each other.

And, well, it was unofficially Bully Dick Day. Danny might have been a little less confident on his identification the other way around, but having just spent a couple hours with the guy?

Yeah, Danny would risk it. The look on Dick’s face was way worth it. His jaw dropped, and while Danny couldn’t see his eyes behind the little domino, that pretty much just made it better.

Dick’s head turned to Jason and Jason sighed, raising his hands.

“He told me he knew on the way into the closet. Fucked if I know how.” So they weren’t just dropping the Ghost King thing. Good to know.

Danny just grinned. He’d seen plenty of Gotham’s message boards and while he’d never cared, he’d heard the theories.

Especially Nightwing’s. Even if the actual poster was a little… fruit loopy. And thought Nightwing was Condiment King’s alter ego.

“The butts match. And I mean, I was just hanging out with you for like an hour. Doing a different voice isn’t really changing much, y’know?” Which was technically all true.

Pretty much every one of the Waynes mysteriously disappearing wasn’t all that subtle either, but he’d point that out when there were more of them around to be ashamed of themselves.

Dick’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he visibly shook himself and closed it. The eye slits on the domino narrowed, and yeah, Danny wasn’t going to resist that one.

“Are you fucking serious? The mask makes faces too? How the hell did you get it to do that?” He asked, rising on tiptoes to wave a hand in front of Dick’s face.

Signal was trying not to laugh, arms folded as he leaned back against the small table.

“Are you going to tell anyone?” He asked like he already knew the answer, checking something off on a list.

This was going better than Danny thought. Good vibes.

Danny shrugged and stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket, grinning.

“Who would believe me? It’s fine, you guys are gonna get like, 30 seconds into googling me and find my old secret identity anyway. I used to go by Phantom,” he added in case it made Dick feel better.

Poor guy was clearly still having a crisis. Maybe they didn’t have their own Wes Weston here and hadn’t been outed before.

He just stared at Danny for a moment longer, then sighed heavily and ran both hands through his hair. Not much point in continuing to pretend, even if no one had said the words “yes you are right.”

It wasn’t like Danny had said the words “you are Dick Grayson”. Plausible deniability all round.

“Just pinky swear you were never a villain,” Dick finally sighed, holding out a hand, pinky extended.

Danny obediently locked pinkies, snickering as he thought about Dan. Technicalities.

“I pinky swear I, specifically, in this timeline, have never been a villain,” he agreed. The overly specific wording didn’t seem to bother anyone.

Maybe fighting yourself from the future was just something all vigilantes had to do. He was pretty sure he’d heard something about the Justice League and time travel before.

Not paid attention to it, but he heard it.

Dick then turned and got Jason in a headlock, noogie-ing him.

“And you have to stop giving the lot of us heart attacks,” he declared, flipping over Jason’s back and away when Jason grabbed for him.

Danny snickered as the tension left the room, Jason clearly considering continuing the chase. Then he just shrugged, dropping down onto one of the two couches and waving to Signal.

“Danny, this is Signal, apparently you’ve almost met before?”

That caught Signal’s attention and he cocked his head, question all over his face. Danny grinned.

“You were the first vigilante I saw in Gotham. Like, 8 months ago, after that thing at the mall where you were teaching the kids to do backflips.”

He saw the moment Signal placed it, nodding and grinning. He held out a hand and Danny shook it.

“Nice to remeet you then, Danny. Jason’s told us nothing at all about you,” he added, grinning over at Jason. Who flipped him off.

“You call yourselves detectives, you’d get bored if I didn’t give you enrichment one way or another,” he refuted and Danny cackled.

“Oh, is that all I am? Enrichment?” He teased and Jason grinned at him.

“Was there another reason you were riding Croc like a rodeo bull?” He asked back. Danny raised his hands, still grinning.

“Yeah, alright. I guess I don’t mind being enrichment for your bored detectives,” he agreed, grinning at the two costumed heroes.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he paused, pulling it out to check it. Tuck had texted.

‘$50 for you two to disappear out a window’

Stifling a snicker, Danny tossed his phone to Jason and returned his attention to the heroes.

“So, was there anything you guys wanted from getting us away, or were you just doing us a solid?” He asked casually. He’d disappear out a window for way less than $50. If Jason was down.

From his snort of laughter, yeah, he was.

Dick gave his phone a slightly suspicious look, then shrugged cheerfully.

“Well, we could also try and find Jay a new shirt before we get back out there if you wanna catch the rest of the show?” He offered.

As tempted as Danny was to ask where the fuck they’d find a new shirt at a party venue… they had shit to do.

Well, they could find shit to do. Same difference.

Jason rolled easily to his feet tossing Danny his phone back. He totally didn’t almost drop it.

“Nah, we’re probably gonna dip. Better for Sam if we mysteriously disappear together and you guys can go catch the show,” he explained with a slight shrug.

Dick’s mouth opened and closed a few more times, then he grinned and shook his head. Obviously a man who knew the finer points of escalating a situation.

“Steph’s recording, if you wanna catch up later?” He offered instead and Jason snickered and nodded.

“Okay. Don’t have my bike today, Danny, so can you sort out transport?” He asked and it took Danny a second to work out what he meant.

He’d come in the Manson’s limo. But Jason didn’t mean a vehicle type of ride.

Eh, why not give the bats something else to wonder about? There was only so long they’d be confused by his more useful powers.

He had to get the good times in while he could.

He kinda missed the old days, sometimes. No one expected a dead hero to have a living alter ego, so he’d flown under the radar with basically no effort.

Alright, the old days had also not included an inquisitive and protective bat clan sniffing around because he was friends with their own dead guy.

Jason had only died a year after him though. Maybe it could have… man, how different would his life had been if he’d known it wasn’t just him and Vlad and Dani at fifteen?

But he might not have been able to help Jason back then. Just the thought of trying to guide someone else while his ice core formed made him flinch.

No thank you, that would have fucking sucked. It was probably for the best that things had happened like this.

If it wasn’t, a certain nosey fucking regent would have pulled his thumb out of his ass and poked Danny in Jason’s direction years ago. He certainly seemed to like the guy enough.

Today though, Danny crossed to the window and slid it open, hopping up to take a seat on the sill. They weren’t too far off the ground here, so it’d be an easy enough slide.

The snow might have been more of a problem, but it wasn’t like he’d be walking for long. It wasn’t deep anyway, just a couple of inches out here.

He dropped carefully down, turned and grinned back through the window.

“Alright Jay, your turn!”

Jason was already there, snickering as he climbed carefully over the sill. Danny could still just about see Dick and Signal around his shoulders, so he figured fuck it.

Held out his arms.

Jason didn’t notice right away, but hesitated the second he did. It was like Danny could see the cogs turning inside his head, a faint rush of pink rising in his cheeks.

Jason really did have the cutest blush. Danny hoped he’d see a lot more of it.

He waggled his eyebrows at Jason, holding his arms out.

“C’mon, I’ve got you,” he prompted cheerfully, and saw the exact moment when Jason figured “fuck it”.

The window being lower worked against them there, Jason still being a good chunk taller than Danny, so the positioning was a little awkward. Finally Jason just sighed, gave Danny a look, and shifted most of his weight out the window.

“If you drop me I’ll kick your ass,” he warned and Danny grinned, stepping closer and slipping his arms in under Jason’s knees and back.

“Wasn’t even thinking it until you said that,” he pointed out and Jason groaned, but let himself drop into Danny’s arms.

Despite hefty temptation, Danny did not drop him. He gave Signal and Dick a cheery nod and walked away, princess carrying a snickering Jason through the snow.

Once they were almost but not quite out of sight, he took off.

“So, where we going?” He asked Jason, who looked a little uncomfortable being carried, but hadn’t stopped snickering yet.

It was probably the whole “not seeming weak” thing again. Or it could be the flying. He and Jason had flown in the Zone, but that wasn’t really the same.

The bigger man hesitated for a moment, then shrugged.

“I could honestly go for something else to eat,” he offered and Danny hummed thoughtfully.

The gala food had been good, but really not up to a half ghost appetite.

“Yeah, I could eat. We should also talk about the whole bomb thing,” he added more reluctantly, not wanting to kill the mood, but… well.

They were still in Gotham. The literal same shit could pop up tomorrow too.

Jason stilled in his arms, his aura suddenly nothing but dread. Danny squeezed him in a little tighter, blanketing him in comfort-acceptance-warmth.

“Doesn’t have to be today,” he said softly, felt something in Jason relax. Felt the pit curl in reluctance-anger-pleading-help.

It made him hold Jason all the closer, holding down the comforting trills his core demanded. No, dropping a startled Jason in mid air would help no one.

But Danny would help them. Both of them. Help the pit fix whatever had been done to all that ectoplasm, and help Jason get his life back.

What was left of it anyway. It was the least he deserved.

Inside the quieter backroom, Nightwing and Signal exchanged looks.

“Did he just…” Signal started and Nightwing sighed, looking as weary as he’d ever seen the older hero.

“It’s been the kind of night where I’m just not gonna ask,” Nightwing said dryly, rolling his shoulders and glancing around the room, “Danny seems to think we’ll work it out eventually.”

Signal shook his head, snickering softly. It wasn’t that he’d really had time to form any expectations from how Jason had described the guy, but Danny…

Yeah, Danny was pretty much exactly what he’d expect so far. An egregious little shit whose sense of humour fit Jason’s perfectly.

He’d have to hurry to get on their side of the inevitable prank war. Shouldn’t be that hard; Narrows and Crime Alley stuck together.

Nightwing leaned in abruptly then, his voice low. Back to serious hero time.

“So, you get more of a read on him alone?” He asked quietly.

Signal paused, brows furrowing under his helmet as he ran back through their minor interactions thus far. He still had the beginning of a headache dancing around from the windows, but…

He’d gotten a pretty good look at just Danny, on the walk from the hall back here and while he was teasing Dick.

Finally he shrugged.

“Honestly? No fuckin’ clue. He barely even registered an aura at all, I don’t think he could be bright enough to flare me out?” Not that it had happened before, but the kid barely glowed.

Most metas at least had enough of an aura to give him some kind of guess about their powers. Colour, shape, the way it moved, it was usually pretty obvious even for the weaker ones.

“So you don’t think he’s particularly powerful?” Nightwing asked, clearly adding it to his own mental notes. Hey, if it meant Duke could skip the paperwork on this run…

He shifted into proper report mode, straightening and turning to face Dick full on, voice lower and more serious. Nightwing obligingly flipped his computer up.

“Either he’s not a dangerous threat from powers alone, or he has serious control over the amount of energy he emits. If you guys hadn’t said anything, I might not even have pegged him as a meta. I did notice something though,” he added with a slight frown.

Nightwing typed a moment longer then glanced up and nodded for him to continue. Signal sucked in a breath.

He didn’t… well, he didn’t like discussing peoples’ auras, outside of a case. It was kinda invasive, especially for people he actually knew in day to day life.

Not least because he didn’t want other people trying to over analyse it. It wasn’t like he got a detailed rundown or list of descriptions; it was just a feeling. A light, a colour.

But this one felt important.

“Jason’s aura. It usually has this… red kinda funk clouding over it. Sometimes it’s thick and murky, and that seems to be when he’s… having a bad day. It’s always kinda red though. But today, it was just… clear. Soft and yellow. Whatever Danny’s doing with the pit, I think it’s working.”

Nightwing’s expression visibly softened, drifting almost all the way back into Dick before he got control again. He nodded, entering the data and then giving Signal a cheeky grin.

“I wouldn’t say you’re fully off the hook for your report, Signal, but if you wanna head out you could probably finish the rest in time for bed,” he teased and Signal rolled his eyes.

And his shoulders a couple times, posture relaxing out of the debriefing stiffness.

“Fuck off. I’m not missing whatever other bullshit you lot are getting up to tonight, fill me in on the way back to the hall.”

He’d be tired tomorrow, but he had too many questions to sleep anyway. They were a full family of nosey bastards - sorry, detectives, and he wasn’t waiting twelve hours for the details.

Not with practically all his siblings visibly sparking off with glee. There was a fuckery afoot, and that was worth a late night.

Nightwing snickered but nodded, tapping his computer closed and heading for the door.

“Short forms of course, but you’ve got the basics,” he agreed, and Signal chuckled, moving to follow.

He’d gotten plenty of pieces over the comms on his way in, but none of them were particularly coherent.

This was already a whole lot more interesting than what he’d been led to expect from a Gotham gala. Hopefully only showing up in costume wouldn’t count as actually attending.

He was still going for that record, Jason’s new boyfriend notwithstanding.

“Oh, and I think Tim’s falling in love.”

Wait.

“What now?”

Bruce was doing his best to keep up with events in the entry hall, but the rapidly rising lump on his head now throbbed with Samantha Manson’s every screamed curse, and he’d let himself be led away.

Someone had found him a chair closer to the back hall, a glass of water, and Stephanie had made her way over with an ice pack and a deeply amused smile.

Probably at the dramatics still ongoing around the closet. She had given him a few tests and declared it a mild concussion, most eyes still firmly fixed on the Mansons.

She wouldn’t smile like that at his pain. Unless she had been the cause. But he would be fine, so he was happy that she wasn’t fussing or worrying over him.

He supposed.

Sam not only had impressive volume, but an extensive vocabulary. Bruce’s attention occasionally faded in and out, making him miss some words, but Steph’s reactions were enough to clue him in.

The young lady had somewhat moved on from what Danny and Jason had actually done now that neither of them were present, and was now roundly denouncing men in general, her parents’ preferences in specific, and the historical trend of mistresses.

Bruce might almost think he was imagining the last one, but it was quite the impassioned rant and Steph at least was definitely following it.

Samantha Manson was a very opinionated young lady, with an extremely firm sense of justice. Maybe she would have been good for Jason he mused morosely, pressing the ice to his head.

And then the hall rang with an ominous silence.

Bruce’s head snapped up, ignoring the immediate twinge of pain, and he looked around sharply for what had captured her attention.

Ah. Nightwing and Signal had returned.

Alone. He perked up a little, hoping this might be his chance to speak with Jason.

Hopes that were immediately dashed when Nightwing caught his eye and minutely shook his head.

What?

Where was Jason? What could possibly have happened to him on the way to get a new shirt?

He couldn’t have some kind of venereal disease already, could he?

The swirling confusion definitely came from his head injury and he took another careful sip of water with Steph’s prompting, unsure of when she’d moved to steady him.

His boys had moved away, closer to the mother daughter drama but before Bruce could try to rise, young Sam saw fit to fill him in on what they’d said. At volume.

“They fucking LEFT?!”

The crowd parted immediately, eyes darting between the Manson heiress and Bruce himself, hungry for some kind of reaction from him.

At least he didn’t have to pretend to look confused. Maybe the head wound was a blessing in disguise.

Nightwing was definitely still enjoying himself far more than he had any right to be. His Dickiebird could always find the bright side in any situation…

Sucking in a breath, he let the Brucie mask fall fully into place, relaxing his facial features.

He may need an MRI when they got back to the cave. Just to check for any internal damage.

Steph leaned helpfully down, blocking him from view from about half the crowd to stage whisper,

“They said Jason and Danny climbed out the window, Brucie,” she said sweetly, and Bruce just about resisted dropping his head to thump into her hand.

That would not make his headache any better.

Of course they climbed out the window. Of course they did.

The gala had been Jason’s idea, hadn’t it? He’d wanted to be reintroduced to society so he could do things under his own name.

In all fairness, Bruce hadn’t checked that the first thing he wanted to do in his own name wasn’t cause a massive scandal. He probably should have.

If Jason thought he’d be avoiding this talk just by skipping out tonight, he had another thing coming. Bruce would rather do it as civilians but he’d hunt Jason down in his mask if he had to.

He’d never been unreasonable when bringing his children to galas; they weren’t dress up dolls to be seen and not heard and oh boy they all knew it. There just had to be some standards.

If Jason wanted to sneak away and have sex at a gala he could at least actually sneak. There were plenty of places to go without the risk of being caught that weren’t the closet just off the main hall.

The back rooms weren’t even that much farther away.

Maybe he’d have to give Jason a talk on appropriate gala behaviour. He hadn’t been to one since he… in a long time, he might not remember.

Maybe he should give Jason a sex talk. Had he given any of them a sex talk? He must have done. Surely.

Dick must know. He’d had plenty of girlfriends. Boyfriends. And… shorter encounters.

What if he hadn’t though.

Maybe he’d have to do it again. To be safe. Maybe Alfred would give them the one he’d given Bruce.

He could feel his thoughts spiralling away out of control.

Sam had reached new levels, possibly prompted by his lack of reaction to the news. Even Bruce had never heard half the words coming out of her now, some of which felt like they crackled in his head.

Just what he needed.

She’d also moved on to roundly denouncing the concept of virginity as a tool to control people with wombs. Selina would have loved having her around the house.

Steph was certainly enjoying herself, now cheering Sam on any time she stopped for breath. That also wasn’t helping his head, but he enjoyed seeing her happy too much to say.

Steph had never really come under his wing the way his other Robins had. She held herself apart, “family friend” more than family for a long time… possibly because of the history between her and Tim.

She hadn’t stood a chance against Dick. He wore people down like a cheerful, gentle waterfall, and once he claimed a sibling it was over.

He’d joke about Dick taking his adoption problem but even he could admit Dick did it better. He was just so good at affection. It came naturally to him.

Bruce was so proud of him. Of all the kids who’d taken up a mask to stand beside him. His babies.

He could feel his throat closing, choking up with tears and hurriedly forced them down. THAT was not going in any of the papers.

Whatever other disaster there was, no one would say he was anything but proud of his baby birds. At least he had the head injury to blame for his maudlin thoughts.

Casting around the room, he clocked someone checking their phone and squinted for the time. Barely past 9pm.

It felt like this gala had been going on for weeks, but there were still hours to go. And he wouldn’t even get the chance to hear Jason’s report tonight, knowing his second son.

Well, he could at least get Steph’s report. Loathe as he was to pull her away when she was having so much fun, he needed someone’s opinion on the Fenton boy that he could trust.

Leaning forward, he touched her wrist gently, letting his expression muzzy further.

“Steph, I think perhaps I need a little space. Could you bring me to one of the back rooms?” He asked softly, gaze flicking meaningfully to hers.

She hesitated a moment, clearly torn between the continuing show and the knowledge she could get at least a little of her report out of the way early.

Finally she sighed and slipped his arm carefully around her shoulders.

“Yeah, come on old man. Let’s get you somewhere quiet,” she agreed, steadying him as he hauled himself to his feet.

They could record part of her report. She wouldn’t even have to write it down later.

At least something good could come out of all this.

Sam was burning with satisfaction as she slipped back into her parents’ rented limo. She’d finally gotten to say every single stupid thing she hated about the galas and a little more besides.

The looks on their faces as she’d torn apart their precious little Jason (who, yeah, she owed a really big favour; that disappearing act was the cherry on the cake)? Wonderful.

When she started in on their homophobic bullshit, the stupid frilly dresses, the way she wasn’t just a present they could wrap how they wanted and ignore who she was?

It felt fucking amazing. Every frustration she’d been holding onto since her teen years, every time they’d shared those “meaningful looks” over her head, every huge sigh, every time they tried to change who she was.

If they wanted a pet they should have got a chihuahua, not had a damn kid.

She’d gotten a round of applause for that one. She hadn’t been expecting any support except for her boys, but having the Waynes on her side had changed a lot.

She’d swear she’d even seen Nightwing clapping along, but he’d stopped before she looked back.

Guess vigilantes couldn’t be seen condoning any of the shit disturbing. Signal had definitely given her a subtle thumbs up though, and a secret high five when she finally let them lead her away to “calm down”.

She’d spent the rest of the evening with the Wayne affiliated girls and Tucker, texting occasionally with Danny and Jason to let them know how the meltdown had gone.

Apparently Tim had some kind of medical thing that had acted up during the attack so Dick had taken him home. Tucker was heartbroken and adorable, but Steph promised to bring his well wishes back to Tim’s bedside.

They kept him distracted anyway by making some videos for Tim to enjoy, both with and without the various Gotham vigilantes as they waited for the cops to finish clearing the goons out.

Sam was a little bummed that Black Bat hadn’t stuck around, but while the gala was big it also wasn’t gonna be the only target in town.

Nightwing did a flip for them anyway, without being asked. He was a dork. Signal was cool though, and he sounded really sincere when he wished Tim well.

They both seemed at least passingly familiar with the Waynes, but it was Gotham. Who wasn’t? Especially with the number of galas that’d bring them into close contact.

Sam hadn’t spent much time with any of them before, mostly because her parents kept her on a very short leash with the rogues around. Not tonight though, she thought with satisfaction.

No, tonight she’d had free reign, especially after their little dust up. Maybe it helped that she still was kind of hanging out with the Waynes’ associates?

She liked Steph and Cass a lot, for sure. Steph was funny in a bold, outrageous way, and while she dressed a little brightly for Sam’s tastes, it was at least a classy purple.

She liked noise and attention and making people laugh when they took a drink to see if she could get it to come out of their nose. Tucker? Easy prey. But she got Sam more than once.

Cass was quieter in every way, but just like Sam had thought it wasn’t because she had nothing to say. She just didn’t need to be noticed.

Steph and Tucker ducked through the hall, recording people saying specific words one word at a time to build Tim a message about what he was missing.

Sam and Cass went around stealing empty glasses until they could write “Get Well Soon Tim” on the floor in front of the bathrooms.

They attracted stares for the entire rest of the evening but not a soul over the age of thirty dared approach. It was the best gala evening Sam’d ever had.

Her favourite part though? That had to be the number of people who were Absolutely Convinced that Danny had to be one of the Robins.

He fit the profile, sure; black hair, blue eyes. Just like more than half the Waynes, and a weirdly large chunk of Gotham in general. He’d jumped in to wrestle Croc.

Imagine if they knew he actually was a vigilante - just not a living one.

She’d actually passed someone passionately explaining that “you never saw him and Red Robin at the same time”, like Red Robin hadn’t been fucking desperately trying to pull Danny off Croc’s back.

That? That they made a video compilation of on Steph’s phone. She was keeping hold of it til they could see Danny in person tomorrow, because no way was she missing his face.

The crowning glory was a lady with a fan earnestly insisting that Danny must be the Red Hood, Noted 6’ Tall Tank Of A Man, while Vlad fucking fumed in the background.

It was wonderful. She was going to play it at Vlad’s next run for mayor. And his birthday. And maybe every time she saw him for the rest of her life.

She’d also seen more than one person meaningfully approaching her parents from the corner of her eye. Among their other shenanigans.

She was fully expecting some form of lecture, maybe some more hysteria from her mother, but honestly? It would hurt them more than Sam to cut her off.

Sam could walk away from the Manson money tomorrow. The greenhouse and nursery might not cover her full rent, but she could move.

Pamela and Jeremy Manson, having to explain why their daughter was never seen with them again? After tonight? Social hell, especially for her mother.

Maybe Pam saw something of that future in the set of Sam’s shoulders, because the drive back to their hotel was almost completely silent, even through Gotham’s slow crawl of traffic.

Didn’t bother Sam. She was perfectly happy to relive some of their more pointed shenanigans, maybe debate asking Danny if they could call him RH whenever Vlad was around.

That’d be fun. Or Hoodie. He wore the damn sweaters enough, Vlad couldn’t prove that wasn’t what they meant.

They’d actually reached the hotel, Jeremy stepping out to deal with the valet when Pamela turned hesitantly to her daughter.

“Sammikins… darling… I know you had an awful evening,” (and how appropriate that her mom had completely missed her having some of the most fun of her life), “and I know you said you wouldn’t date men…”

Sam steeled herself, wondering if another rant might be in order. Her mom clearly noticed, raising a hand in immediate surrender,

“And I fully understand, it’s entirely your choice whether you ever change your mind or not,” she added quickly, and Sam’s shoulders settled somewhat reluctantly.

Pamela gave her a very soft, hopeful sort of smile.

“It’s just. You looked so happy when you were talking with Cassandra. I didn’t know you knew sign at all, so if you wanted to see her again while we’re here…” she wheedled, and something in Sam’s brain shut down.

“What?” She asked, genuinely dumbfounded.

Pamela raised both hands this time, looking actually… kind of contrite. Like she’d actually been listening to Sam’s rants.

Like Sam might have finally gotten through to her.

Like the woman who hadn’t let her bring her girlfriend to a gala was actually immediately moving on to pushing her at another woman.

What. The fuck.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, darling, I know we got far too pushy when you met Jason, I just. We’ll be in town for another day. And you made a very sweet pair.”

The hope in her face was unmistakeable, and Sam found herself gaping. There were just. Too many questions, all forming up in her head.

She found the words for at least one just as her mother reached for the door, almost ending their moment.

“Wait. You mean you don’t mind that I’m a lesbian?” She asked suspiciously, brows drawing down as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

Pamela gave her a soft smile and gently cupped her cheek.

“Sammy, darling, I know we’ve been… pushing an image on you,” almost the same words Sam had used, and they clearly pained her, “but I would never reject you for who you loved.”

Which made absolutely no fucking sense.

“So why the hell wouldn’t you let me bring Valerie?” Sam demanded weakly, shoulders sagging as confusion warred with the sudden wash of tears threatening to break out.

Acceptance. Her mother was finally accepting her. In the one thing she hadn’t asked for or expected.

Pamela’s face immediately pinched at Val’s name and she huffed, drawing herself up and resettling in her seat like a broody hen.

Not accepting everything, then. No surprise there.

“I don’t mind if you date or marry a woman, darling, but I most certainly do not trust that young Gray woman. The way she cosied up to you and your friends when her father lost his position! Wealth comes with many detractors, Sammy, and sometimes that means people will try to prey on your gentle heart and use you for your money!”

Sam’s jaw dropped as Pamela talked, passion flaring up until Sam had some idea what the others had seen when she got going.

She wanted to beat her head against the window. It was like they’d gotten absolutely fucking nowhere.

“Val isn’t a fucking gold digger, Mom!” She argued with a frustrated groan, tossing her hands into the air.

Pamela sniffed, turning her nose up.

“She is not good enough for my baby girl. Honestly, what does she even do at school?”

“Not fuck strangers in the closet!” Sam snapped back, and Pamela glared at her. Then deflated with a soft sigh.

“I just want what’s best for you, Sammy. If you think it’s Valerie… I suppose I can try. But I will be talking to her,” she added sharply, that Manson family steel shining through again, “just to let her know that I will be watching, and if she hurts you she will have me to deal with!”

The thought of the Red Huntress dealing with her mother almost made Sam laugh. As if the older woman would stand a chance.

But it was a compromise, if not an actual apology. She could work with that.

And, actually, while her mom was apparently in a compromising mood…

“And I can choose my dress for the next gala?” Sam asked quickly, again interrupting her mother’s move for the door.

Pamela hesitated for a long moment, then gave her daughter a wary look.

“So long as there are no spiders…” she said slowly.

“I want that in writing,” Sam warned sharply and Pamela sighed again, then nodded.

“By tomorrow morning, dear,” she agreed.

Sam’s triumphant grin carried her all the way into the elevator, up the stairs, and back to her bedroom where she pulled out her phone to update the group chat.

‘2Goth2Glorious: you guys aren’t going to fucking believe what my mom just said.’

“Huh,” Danny chuckled, glancing at his phone and then dropping it on a table and stepping over the back of Jason’s couch to slide down and sit like a fucking animal.

Already sprawled on the couch, Jason tipped his head back to frown over at him. They were in one of Jason’s less shitty safe houses this time (and Danny’s relief that he didn’t actually live in the first one was hilarious) after raiding a Denny’s.

And a convenience store. And a Batburger. For once Jason really didn’t feel bad about how much he ate; at least he chewed.

He’d swear Danny unhinged his jaw to just inhale an entire double cheeseburger. Maybe that was all Sam meant by “Jawbreaker”…

Jason wasn’t gonna think about that though.

Nope.

They were in a much more comfortable living room now, with actual decent furniture, and Danny was climbing it like a mountain goat. And being cryptic.

The first thing he’d done after walking through the doors was drop their food on the table. The second was drop his pants, kicking them away and throwing the tie and jacket after them.

Jason could sympathise, the monkey suits sucked and he’d abandoned jacket and tie not long after. Not the pants yet. But the sweatpants in the bedroom were calling to him.

“What? He prompted Danny instead, pushing over the second controller. Mariokart. The traditional way the bats kept score.

Easier to track than the number of crimes that didn’t happen. No one else liked his idea of counting heads.

Danny scooped it up and settled in, immediately picking his racer and getting comfy.

Baby Mario. Interesting.

Jason mained Peach, mostly so Dick couldn’t.

“So apparently we read the whole gala thing wrong,” he said casually, just as the countdown to begin the race began, “the Mansons aren’t homophobic.”

Classic distraction techniques. Motherfucker. Jason was so focused on gunning the engine and blasting off the starting line it took him a moment to process the words.

He had to actually glance over at Danny at that, brows furrowed, and missed an item drop.

Doublefucker.

“Fuck off.”

Danny snickered, effortlessly drifting into a turn.

“No shit. They’re trying to set Sam up with Cass,” he added as proof, and Jason snapped his attention back to the game.

He could play this with Damian standing on his shoulders and Steph tickling him, fuck Danny and his conversational bomb dropping.

First time he could say he’d side with the elder Mansons though.

“They were cute,” he offered with a slight shrug, casting back. Sam and Cass hadn’t interacted much, but Sam knowing ASL was a good sign.

No pun intended. He wasn’t Dick.

Danny snickered again and leaned sharply to the left as he skidded around another turn.

“And Sam woulda killed for a chance before Val. She learned sign language to try and talk to her, always said it was because she seemed like the only tolerable person in the room. That’s Sam for “she’s really pretty”,” he added slyly, dropping a red shell in Jason’s path.

Triplefucker. Jason skidded for a double set of items, then burnt a few coins to speed back up.

Digested new information. Both about the elder Mansons and Sam herself. But he didn’t have enough yet.

“So why wouldn’t they let her bring Val?” He asked instead, popping up a pirahna plant as they approached another turn. Not a great item, so he might as well make space.

“They think Val specifically is a gold digger,” Danny actually cackled this time, shaking his head and still not missing a beat.

He was a pretty good player. But they’d see how good he was under pressure later.

For now he snorted most of a laugh through his nose, shaking his head.

“Delightful. Bet Val will love that,” he snickered, hitting another double item. Mushrooms. Fucked again.

“It’s practically a mark of quality,” Danny agreed, grinning broadly, and dropped a row of bananas across the whole path. Dodgy little fucking shit.

Paused, then skimmed half way across the road for another double item box.

“By the way, do you mind if Val knows you’re a halfa?”

Jason, just about to launch a brand new green shell, frowned. They’d definitely been over this.

“I thought you already texted your team’s group chat?” It had been the most efficient way to share info with everyone who needed it.

And they’d shared more information since, mostly planning for the gala tonight. He’d kind of assumed the lot of them already knew.

He’d figured he’d meet Val and Jazz eventually, the same way Danny was probably gonna run into B’s brood again at least one more time.

Probably more now that Dick knew how much he liked puns. But Bludhaven was a ways out of Gotham, so Jason’s sanity might survive.

Danny shrugged, now glancing at Jason from the corner of his eye, and Jason took advantage to nail him with the shell. Fucking deserved it.

“Yeah but Val wasn’t in at the time, new phone- oh you cheating motherfucker!”

“Look me in the eye and say you wouldn’t have done the exact fucking same,” Jason taunted, not taking his eyes off the screen this time.

Fuck the other laps, the only thing that counted was who crossed that final finish line first. They were close, both neck and neck and if Danny had an item worth a damn he’d have used it.

Nor did Jason, but fuck it, who cared?

Just as they reached the final stretch, that dreaded alert popped up.

A blue shell. Whoever got hit, the other would win.

Half the family would have backed off, hit their breaks and let Jason take the hit. Because Jason? Jason never backed off.

He’d race the damn blue shell to the finish line and if he couldn’t beat that he didn’t want the race. And lucky him, he had coins to burn.

Danny hit his boosters right alongside Jason, the two of them careening towards the line. In the corner of his eye Jason could see the blue shell closing in, eating up the map behind them.

Reaching out suddenly, he caught Danny by the face and pushed just as the younger man shoved a foot into his other elbow.

The blue shell hit, explosion spinning both their carts to a stop. Before they could recover, a third cart sped past them, finishing the race.

Danny groaned, dropping his controller as the rest of the players passed them.

“FUCKING baby park!” He swore, and Jason nodded, flicking his controller to finish the race before tossing it down.

Then he turned back to Danny and shrugged. Ultimately he just… didn’t really care. Sam and Tucker had gone over well.

As prickly as he usually was about sharing intimate details with strangers, his death was basically common knowledge. Now, so was his revival.

So what if another stranger from a small town knew he’d fucked that up too? Precedent suggested she wouldn’t give a fuck, and it felt really, really good not having to hide.

“Yeah, I don’t care if Val knows. Do we really wanna add her back to the group chat right after the gold digger thing though?” He’d never met Valerie, even in text, but he knew she could be hot headed.

Half the stories of her trying to kill Danny proved that; it was how Danny survived.

Jason could relate. He’d been too fucking annoying to kill since he first put on a cape.

Well. Almost too annoying.

Danny just shrugged, shaking his head and rolling off the couch to grab his phone again.

“Sam’ll have told her in a private chat. Legal permission to tag her back in, or do you wanna tell her face to face?” He asked, and Jason had to wonder how much he’d talked to the others about it.

Mostly because Danny, thinking something through? He didn’t need to have known the guy this long to know that didn’t happen.

How the fuck did you even tell anyone something like this? He still had no idea how he was going to explain to his family that he was only mostly dead.

Maybe a stranger to practice on would be a good idea, and Val at least had the benefit of context. Knowing what a halfa was had put her one over him until last week.

Yet when he had an easy option, letting the others explain for him, he couldn’t help reaching for it. He didn’t even fucking know what it meant to him yet; how was he supposed to explain to anyone else?

And hey, Danny’s “new halfa just dropped” was elegance and perfection. If only he could just toss that in the family chat and call it good.

He shot Danny a thumbs up, scooping up the controller he’d dropped and tapping back to a new game screen.

“Go for it. You fill her in and I’ll get us a new game?” He offered, part of him resenting the vulnerability. The part that he kind of hated knowing was all his, and not the pit.

It wasn’t like he was even asking for help. He was delegating.

There was nothing fucking wrong with asking for fucking help. He wasn’t fucking alone anymore. He didn’t fucking have to be.

He was allowed to have friends who cared about him, and he was allowed to let them help with the things he didn’t know how to do.

His aura must have been a goddamn mess because Danny didn’t even open the chat, just hopped the back of the couch again and shoved his feet in Jason’s lap.

Soft-calm-understanding-been there.

Jason glared down at socked toes. More than anything else, he fucking hated bringing the mood down. Felt like it was all he did some days.

Socked toes scrunched to wave up at him. It looked so fucking bizarre he had the sudden urge to laugh, despite the mess in his head.

Well, he’d already ruined the fucking mood. It was easier to talk to Danny’s toes rather than look up, habits he’d learned to cope with surging green that was conspicuously absent now.

No pit rage. Just himself, still fucked up, still unable to look someone else in the eye when he was sure he’d see pity reflected back.

“Why do we need to talk about my death?” He asked the socks quietly, hands still curled around a game controller. Knowing the answer couldn’t be good.

“Because the first time you transform, you’re going to look the way you did when you died.” Fucking Danny scrunched his toes in time with his voice like the sock was the one talking.

That did knock a shaky snicker out, and Jason gave the man himself a half hearted glare. But it did suck the seriousness out of the situation.

Cuz yeah, that? That wasn’t a situation he was going to think about right now.

“Well fuck,” seemed to sum it up, and he stared back down at Danny’s feet. Couldn’t bring himself to face the sympathetic smile.

It didn’t help that Danny was the only person in the world who’d understand. Who’d already faced the horror of his own death, and now popped in and out of a ghost form like a cape.

Socked feet patted the top of his thigh.

“Yeah. You’ll be able to change it, and with some practice you can accessorize however you want just by thinking about it. But. Yeah. It’s going to suck,” Danny explained softly, thankfully abandoning the sock talking.

Jason chanced a glance up from the corner of his eye.

“How did…” how did you handle it? The words stuck somewhere below his collarbone, wedged sideways in his throat.

It didn’t seem to matter. Danny was good at hearing the ghosts of words he couldn’t say.

“Well, I transformed the first time the day I died, so it wasn’t like the memory had time to percolate,” Danny explained airily.

Like that was a good and normal sentence to say. Snorting a laugh, well aware that’s what Danny was going for, Jason pinched one of Danny’s toes.

The whole foot jerked back, coiling protectively. Motherfucker was ticklish. Yeah, Jason remembered that from their first wrestling session.

The temptation to knock Danny back to the floor and tickle him breathless was strong. It’d end the conversation, distract them both, get a more cheerful evening back on track.

Hell, they still had to tease Tucker about his massive crush on Tim. They were young, half alive, and had a truly obscene amount of snacks to get through.

They had every reason in the world to have a good night.

Just, y’know, the lingering spectre of Jason’s death between them. He’d never actually spoken about it to anyone, except to rub it in B’s face.

He’d made a joke a little too close once and watched Dick’s face crumple.

Fuck, he didn’t even like thinking about the event itself. Crawling out of his grave, well, he didn’t actually remember that.

Didn’t remember anything until Talia pulled him from a pool of bubbling green. Not the way he remembered what had come before.

Danny’s foot rose to poke gently into his face and Jason reared back, train of thought effectively derailed and he swatted for Danny’s ankle.

“What the fuck, dude?” He asked, giving Danny a mock glare as he knocked the foot away.

Danny was watching him just a little too closely for the casual smile on his face, or the lazy shrug.

“Well, you didn’t listen to your fucking name,” he pointed out, and it was news to Jason that anyone had been saying it. Obviously.

Then Danny sat up and moved closer, leaning in shoulder to shoulder with Jason.

“You don’t have to tell me. But. I’m gonna be with you when it happens, unless you don’t want me to be. And I need to know how bad I need to kick Batman’s ass.”

The last knocked a proper startled laugh out of Jason, but he didn’t move away. It. Helped having Danny close.

Close enough he didn’t have to look at his face. Close enough to feel his admittedly lacking body heat as comfort. Six of one.

“Pretty sure Sam has the brutalizing father figures part on lock already,” he said instead of asking, grin solidifying as he remembered the look on Bruce’s face.

It was never Bruce’s ass he’d wanted kicked. Alright, that was a lie, but it wasn’t Bruce he blamed for his death. That… that had always been on him.

He’d just expected B to save him like he’d done on all Jason’s other fuck ups.

Danny snickered along with him, reaching for Jason’s old controller and settling in.

“I see you still not saying Bruce is Batman,” he said innocently, and Jason fought free of the ghosts in his head.

Might as well kick their king’s ass at Mariokart before wrestling the ghosts of his past.

And if they were sat much closer, much better able to jostle each other, that’d work to his advantage. He had more bulk to use.

“Bruce knows Batman,” he repeated instead, clicking through to choose a map. Danny snickered again.

“Sam thinks Bruce is Batman’s sugar daddy,” he said innocently, just as the countdown ended.

Again.

Jason dropped his controller and lunged for his phone. Fuck the race, THAT was going straight to the family group chat.

Tim threw his domino aside as he stormed into the bat cave, slamming into the chair in front of the batcomputer. His fingers hit the keys before his ass hit the seat, clacking furiously.

Dick and Damian exchanged glances and shrugs, entering more slowly. Duke had skipped the cave altogether, heading straight to bed.

The actual hand off from the gala had gone smoothly. All the goons were in custody, and Croc had gone quietly. Probably because all four of them were still around, but that didn’t matter.

Tim ignored the company. It was still bothering him. He didn’t know what they’d missed when they’d raided the Riddler, and the mystery case hadn’t helped.

He’d gone to look at it when Nightwing and Signal returned to the dining hall; Damian had been right, it needed the building’s power supply.

And Dick had also been right - it was some kind of games cabinet. He’d gotten the touch screen off without setting off any of the traps and powered independently it did indeed produce a riddle.

Tim hadn’t bothered solving it, just gone back into the guts to trace what was supposed to be the threat. It wasn’t like Riddler not to include a backup battery, at least to prevent tampering.

(And alright, Tim had found and removed two, but that didn’t count. They were easy. Easy was how they’d missed something on the raid. Easy was hiding something.)

The fucking case was empty. There were spaces wired to take nearly double the explosives they’d found, and there was nothing in it. It just didn’t make sense.

As far as Damian cared, Tim was just getting up his own ass again. The brat had said as much on their way home, while Tim worked furiously at the tablet.

Tucker Foley had broken it open straight to the OS, all memory and data laid bare, except for one encrypted folder. That was too easy too, but Tim couldn’t fault his work.

It was perfect but for that one folder. Tim could trace back how he’d done it, the hack as clean and easy as one of his own.

And he’d done it with enough spare time to get right through to summer in Stardew Valley. While Tim fretted in the next room searching for the damn tablet.

That meant he’d given up on the folder, or been the one to place it. That was a clue, but if that was the case it wouldn’t help him solve the Riddler mystery.

Sighing to himself, he opened a connection through to Oracle on his comm.

“Hey O. Busy?”

“Not more than most nights,” came the easy reply. As usual, Babs sounded like she was calling from a LAN party, not rewriting the traffic grid.

Unless Bluebird was done already. Could be. Tim hadn’t checked.

“There’s a mystery folder on the Riddler tablet. I think Foley left it, but I don’t have time to break his encryption. Is Batwoman with Nygma?” He asked, running both hands through his hair.

Dick was hovering. Probably worried. He could stuff that in his own ass.

Barbara chuckled, and beside him the tablet screen sprang to life.

“Batwoman dropped him off before your guys came for Croc. He’s very upset, apparently. Sure you don’t want to take another run at the tablet? I hear your flirting has been adorable.”

Tim shot Dick a glare. Dick, entirely unrepentant, gave him worried puppy eyes.

“I have a boyfriend,” Tim grumbled, glancing back at the tablet again. Glaring at his brother was a waste of time when there was a puzzle to solve.

“So don’t marry Foley. Your nerd flirting is still adorable,” Babs shot back immediately. Tim could practically see her hands hovering over her own keyboard, waiting for his go ahead.

Riddler was actually in custody this time. That probably meant the threat was neutralised, at least for now. It also meant Red Robin could pay him a visit.

Red Robin could go check over the hideout. There might be some more answers there too.

His hands stilled on the keys, body tensing. A large hand landed on his shoulder and Dick leaned in.

“Actually, can I put a rush on that? Danny seemed pretty sure we’d learn more about him overnight. This’d explain it,” he added, tapping the tablet screen.

That caught Damian’s attention, the boy leaning back in from the locker room with his eyes narrowed.

“Does it pertain to his meta abilities?” He called, and Tim groaned, shoving both hands through his hair. Dick chuckled softly and gave him a gentle shake.

“Well it definitely has to do with him recognising us in costume, and I’m pretty sure he flew away, so I’m gonna say yes,” Dick agreed, and when the fuck had he been planning to mention that.

Tim’s neck cricked as he snapped his head around.

“He what?!” Danny had left maybe half an hour after the attack, at most. How the fuck had Tim missed so much?

Dick grinned down at him, still without shame, and one day Tim was damn well going to crack that facade. Possibly with his fist.

“You seemed so busy with the case, Red. I didn’t like to bother you.”

Damian materialised at their sides, glowering up at Dick too. It wasn’t all that often that they were on the same side but it wasn’t the kind of thing they could enjoy.

“Richard. He recognised you?” Damian asked sharply, and Dick sighed.

“Well he called me a fucking cop again and said the butts match, so I’m going with yeah. He seemed to think we would find something equally important on him though, and Jason didn’t seem concerned,” he explained a little less cheerfully.

Tim sucked in a deep, calming breath. Closed his eyes. And Damian snapped the question before he reached ten.

“So why do we not simply ask Todd?” The youngest growled, already reaching for his comm.

Dick shrugged.

“Go for it. He’s still with Danny, just pinged the group chat,” he added, raising his civilian phone to wiggle it.

Damian and Tim fell silent, both aware that Jason… well, for one would not react well to demands for information, no matter how much Danny helped with the pit.

And two… wasn’t likely to give them a full Danny download in Danny’s immediate presence. And they couldn’t swing by to ask, even if they did know where they were.

Sighing to himself, Tim pulled his phone out.

“O, if you could take a turn at the tablet hack I’m just gonna… check… Oracle check the group chat.” He pressed his lips together firmly, fighting back laughter.

All three heard Babs’ curious hum, keyboard clacking resuming a little slower than her usual. A one handed job while she checked.

Damian glared from Dick to Tim this time, then went back to the locker room for his own phone. Significant improvement from a year ago, where he’d have grabbed for Tim’s.

Fuck school, socialising him with Superboy the Younger was doing him good.

Tim’s head snapped up again, staring at Dick.

“Does the demon brat know what a sugar daddy is?” He hissed, and Dick’s eyes widened.

“Uh… dibs on not telling him.”

“You are the one he likes!” Tim hissed, Barbara’s snickering a new sudden baseline.

“And I’m keeping it that way,” Dick shot back, dancing away from the table, “you have nothing to lose!”

“Because his grandfather stole my fucking spleen, are you even Damian’s family if he hasn’t tried to stab you at least once?”

“Boys, boys,” Barbara cut in, still snickering, “think of it this way: do you want Jason to tell him?”

Both vigilantes turned back to the phone, where Damian’s icon was showing the distinctive three dots of a message in the making.

Tim glanced at Dick.

“Honestly? Kinda.” Better Jason than either of them, Jason was at least out of the immediate line of fire. And would probably weather Damian’s later vengeance attempts reasonably well.

Damian might have missed the original fireworks but he’d known Jason in the League; the fact that even he was wary of the pit rage said a lot.

But then, Damian had experienced the rage himself too.

Tim was kinda glad Ra’s hadn’t wanted to risk his mind to it. Would have been more glad if the old fucker had just left him alone instead of again, stealing his fucking spleen about it.

Wasn’t much of a surprise that Damian was stabby, honestly. But even he wouldn’t seriously pick a fight with Jason.

Nobody wanted to set off the rage that permanently broke him. Because that was what would happen if he ever did seriously hurt one of them again; Tim could see it.

Jason already thought he was broken. But they’d persuaded him he didn’t have to be. Putting one of them in the hospital, after all of his progress, would only confirm what he already believed.

Tim remembered the sharp, bleeding, fractured edges on the Red Hood he’d first met. He hadn’t seen that man in years.

He never wanted to see him again.

Not when he’d finally met his childhood hero, the Jason Todd he’d followed around with a camera in the night. Not when he finally had a Jason who called him his little brother.

They didn’t talk about it. But he could see it haunting behind Jason’s eyes some nights, a darkness different than when the pit was bad.

The pit’s anger spilled outwards, but Tim had learned to differentiate it from Jason’s. Jason’s anger spilled in, turned on himself. The kind of anger Tim was intimately familiar with.

Tim wouldn’t push. Not something so delicate. But one day, he’d really like some answers.

He’d like some damn answers about Riddler’s plans, Danny’s powers, and Tucker’s encrypted fucking file too though, and those were all a lot more urgent.

And why Killer Croc was in Gotham. And what Two Face wanted with Jason, not Red Hood. And what Killer Croc and Riddler wanted with Two Face.

And why Sam Manson’s grandmother knew Poison Ivy well enough to request a hit. What the hell was happening in Amity Park. If ghosts were actually-seriously-for-real-a-thing.

The speedsters were going to be intolerable if they presented that to the Justice League. Tim would definitely be hacking that footage with popcorn.

Heaving another sigh, he flopped back into the computer chair and just stared at the screens.

Alfred had made him weak. He’d been in bed less than thirty hours ago and his eyes were beginning to itch. But there was way, way too much to do for him to rest.

Scrubbing both hands down his face, he sat up again just as Babs let out a curious little “huh” over comms. That helped revive him.

“What’s up, O?” He asked, glancing back at Dick.

Some time while he was zoning out, the older had changed back into civvies and was leaning against the railing, checking his phone.

He must still have a comm in though, because he looked up too.

Why wasn’t he going back to Bludhaven? Another mystery for Tim’s eternally growing pile, but a minor one.

Babs was chuckling again, and the tablet screen flickered back to life.

“I got your folder open, RR. Very interesting encryption, the big bat isn’t going to be happy.” Babs sounded extremely pleased though.

“What did he use?” Tim asked idly, glancing down at the screen. Stilled. Was dimly aware of Dick moving curiously forward to peek at the tablet too.

There was only one thing in the encrypted folder, or at least one thing Babs wanted him to look at first. A simple text file.

‘To the Oracle. Love your work. Expressing my deepest admiration and eternal devotion. - TooFine’

And then an IP address that Tim couldn’t automatically place to a country. Was Tucker challenging Oracle?

Babs was talking again and Tim quickly refocused, already tapping the IP into the batcomputer.

“Three dates of my latest hacks into Lex Luthor, Vandal Savage, and the Legion of Doom. He even helpfully provided a hint in that Stardew Valley file.”

That caught Tim’s attention. He’d ignored the game, assumed the name was irrelevant.

“What’s the farm called?” He asked quickly, not wanting to scroll into the game to check.

Babs chuckled again, clearly back to work on one of the other problems.

“L85tH1t5. Or “Latest Hits”, for anyone that hasn’t used substitutions in a while. The kid’s good, and he’s been paying attention. The IP address has me in a private server, and it’s locked down with something I’ve never seen before. I think he wants to play a game.”

Tim’s brows furrowed, his attention refocusing on his own screens tracking the IP. It hadn’t even let him in.

“I’m blocked,” he admitted grumpily as Dick let out a low whistle, leaning back against the railing again.

“Must be a private invitation,” Babs teased, then sobered up. “I don’t think this is going to be the easy answers Nightwing’s looking for though. You’ll just have to run a search on Danny Fenton separately.”

Dick moved forward again, probably to lean over his shoulder or steal the keyboard, and Tim swatted him away.

“Wanna loop me in, O? I can get started on the server if you’re busy with the others.”

“Someone’s feeling left out,” Dick snickered, leaning on the back of Tim’s chair instead. Tim flipped him off.

“No need, Red Robin,” Babs replied, her own amusement just as clear as Dick’s. They were the worst. “It’s a quiet night for Gotham, I have time to flex a little.”

“Search Fenton,” Damian demanded, brows drawn down in a glower as he appeared beside the chair. Like that’d get him a big reaction.

Tim flipped him off too on principle, but sullenly pulled up a new window.

He didn’t feel left out. He wasn’t jealous. Tucker had been talking to him for half the gala, they’d had a great time and Tim really did like the guy.

They’d exchanged numbers and everything. He was gonna have to send over a real internship offer too.

Tucker hadn’t even met Babs. He was Tim’s friend.

Tim had a boyfriend. A wonderful boyfriend, whom he loved with all his heart. He wasn’t even lonely.

He just.

Didn’t see why Tucker would invite Oracle to his mysteriously secured server and not Tim.

By the time Bruce returned to the manor (and more importantly, to the cave) Tim was the only one down there.

No matter, Signal, Nightwing, and Robin had all had plenty of time to complete their after action reports. He could peruse those and prepare questions for later.

It was Tim he had wanted to talk to anyway. Whatever Tim had seen about Masters. About Danny Fenton.

Bruce headed over to the batcomputer, noting a cold mug of coffee that Tim somehow hadn’t finished. He’d been in for a while. And looked frustrated, not busy.

The perfect time to divert his attention for a report.

“Tim,” he said in greeting, brows drawing in as Tim turned a hazy glare on him.

He knew the boy had slept more this week than he usually did in a fortnight, but the bags under his eyes had barely lessened. Still, it had never affected his efficiency before.

“Your report on the gala. Particularly Masters and Fenton,” he prodded gently, and Tim groaned loudly, tugging at his hair.

“Honestly Bruce? Vlad’s a shifty son of a bitch that I wouldn’t trust as far as I could comfortably spit a rat, and Danny Fenton’s a fucking mystery. Who knows who we are, by the way.”

That was more than just concerning, and Bruce tensed. If Danny had approached Jason as a way to get to them…

“You’re sure?” He asked almost hopefully; he’d never actually had reason to doubt Tim. Who clearly also remembered that, from his archly raised brow.

“He called Dick out in costume. Hinted he’d done some vigilante work under the name “Phantom”, which I cannot find in any database anywhere, and I can’t find a damn thing about Amity Park from anyone who actually lives there ANYWHERE online.”

Tim spun back to the batcomputer, gesturing angrily at the three biggest screens. Bruce scanned them all, brows furrowing.

Tourist websites. An article about the “most haunted town in America”, clearly the hard earned result of their constant ghost claims, and… social media?

“They don’t have fucking Twitter, Bruce,” Tim growled, tapping through browser window after window. He’d clearly been doing this for a long time.

“No Facebook pages for restaurants, city hall, nothing. Except that Tucker showed me their weather station’s Facebook on his PDA. And that isn’t how fucking Twitter or Facebook WORK.” He slapped the keyboard, and the screen jumped.

Bruce carefully edged the cold coffee mug a little further away, but didn’t interrupt Tim’s rant.

“They don’t have a single server dedicated to one tiny town in Bumfuck, Illinois, to isolate their posts, or the kind of protections that would keep people from one town from connecting to the wider internet. It shouldn’t be possible! Nothing the government has on them even raises a blip but beyond those records, they’re just gone!”

Tim flipped quickly through various different government databases, too quickly for Bruce to do more than scan, but he didn’t need to.

Amity Park existed. There were a few accounts linked, email addresses, websites, that should have gone to city hall. The school board. Local businesses.

Tim clicked viciously on one of the links, and the window immediately blanked.

“Something is seriously fucking wrong with this town, Bruce,” Tim declared, the anger gone as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only a dangerous sobriety in its place, “and we’ve been ignoring them.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, his concerns about Danny Fenton slotting neatly into a sudden, much larger concern.

Tim had pulled up the Justice League’s records on Amity Park. There were thousands of requests for help, every single one bearing the same status: Rejected.

Hundreds came from a single day, someone clearly hitting the button over and over and over again in a panic, desperate to get through.

And then nothing. Not a single request for years since. As if the residents had given up.

Bruce nodded to the screen.

“That cluster. I take it you’ve looked?” He asked tersely, slipping straight into Batman. Tim clicked a request at random.

“Not all of them,” he admitted bitterly, “but they’re pretty consistent.”

The panic was clear in the wording too, no attempt at spellchecking or grammar. Tim scrolled through the next few.

Key smashes. Curses, swearing, pleading for help. One phrase stuck out especially clearly to Bruce, repeated over and over.

‘The sky is green. Earth is gone and the sky is green.’

What the hell had happened in Amity Park?

Anger firming his jaw, Batman reached for his Justice League comm.

“I need to speak to John Constantine. Now.”

—————————

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Next chapter:

#dp x dc #danny fenton dead and loving it #danny fenton x jason todd #the gala finally fucking ends #sam explodes #no survivors #tim loses his nerd date to being an even bigger nerd in his mask #lad needs some chill #and we can finally get to the plot!

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