#damian is mad he had to cut patrol short to deal with this
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"Do you require assistance?" Phantom perked up at the mans voice. Red Robin was the guy multiple ghosts had recommended to him even though he was still alive. Okay, so they kinda did it in a half joking manner, but Phantom was desperate!
The nine year old came out from the shadows and could immediately feel the man in front of him cataloging everything about his appearance. Wierd. But he had dealt with Weirder. Besides, he was glowing, so he guessed the human had a right to be curious. "I heard you were really good with machines."
Red Robin looked somewhat tense, like he was ready to fight if need be. Why does everyone wanna fight him? He's nine!
Phantom quickly brought out a little silver sphere with an OwO face from his bag and quickly began speaking, "This is my friend Livvi, she started acting wierd a while back and I haven't been able to fix her."
To his credit, Red didn't attack him. He just looked gobsmacked. "You came out to Gotham, in the middle of the night and tracked down a vigilante to ask for tech support?"
"Livvi is different!" He fumed, "She's my friend!"
A sigh escaped from the mans lips and Phantom looked up to see him pinching the bridge of his nose, "Okay, you're probably not going to go away until I fix her. Just promise me you'll try to be safer."
Phantom hummed as if contemplating, "I'll try."
With that, the vigilante took Livvi from him and began working on her from the blanket Phantom had laid out. Red Robin began to look more and more curious about Livvi as he worked on her. He even took out one of Livvis ectoplasm powerbanks to examine it more thoroughly. "Can you explain to me what problems she's been having?"
The kid bit his lower lip, clearly worried about the little robot, "Shes having trouble maintaining flight and producing shields. Her speech sometimes comes out glitch or warped despite me not finding anything wrong with her voice box or programming. A few times she's just turned off mid flight and dropped."
The man looked thoughtful for a few seconds before asking, "Have you ever heard of the Lazarus Pit?"
"I've heard of Lazarus, but I don't know what it is. I've only ever heard of it in passing. Why?" The ghost was genuinely confused by the change in topic
"Can I text a friend about this?"
"I don't see why not. The more help Livvi gets the faster she'll get better right?" The bird wasted no time activating his coms and whispering into it telling some unknown people about "an unknown glowing meta child with futuristic tech that runs on Lazarus water"
Within the next ten minutes a guy dressed as a bat landed on the rooftop alongside a boy around his age dressed like a trafic light and scowling as if he had just been told that he was grounded from ever having ice cream again. The big goth dude introduced himself as batman and offered him a lollipop. "I'm not supposed to take candy from strangers." Phantom said seriously, "Unless its Halloween."
Batman...well he didn't smile exactly but he didn't seem angry. "Do you know where you're parents are?"
"No. But thats okay. They don't like me."
Batman maintained a cool pokerface, "why don't they like you?"
"I don't remember. I think I knew when I was older-"
"Older?" The other boy interrupted, "Is this not your true age?"
Phantom pouted at him, any hopes he had of making a friend he didn't construct himself were flung out the window, "Yeah, but I don't remember it. Appearently I ate a time god and lost six-ish years from absorbing his powers."
There was a beat silence, then: "You ate a time god?!" Red Robin looked horrifed
"In my defense, I have no memory of what was happening at the time. All I know is that the place i used to live is in ruins and I'm dead."
#fanfiction prompts#prompts#dp x dc#batpham#danny phantom#danny fenton#batman#robin#damian wayne#tim drake#red robin#bruce wayne#danny literally made a friend huh#damian is mad he had to cut patrol short to deal with this#long post#danny ate clockwork and gained his powers#why?#you decide#i like the theory that clockwork was evil this whole time and danny would never escape clockwork#unless he ate or absorbed him cause if he didnt than clocky would just respawn after a bit#so munch munch#bruce: hes glowing but i still must adopt#danny: you realize im dead right?#batman and his birds: wat#danny: im from an elderich undead horror dimension owo#dannys old rouges saw him as a kid and thought they could beat him up while hes small and weak#only to find out little baby danny does not have morals exe properly installed#they got shredded#tw: cannibalism#tw: murder
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Day 5 (6-17): Aged-up | Mother and son | Brothers
Warnings: near death experiences, drowning, canon typical violence, kidnapping
Note: I felt like I've written a lot of Dick and Damian bonding this week... So I'm switching it out with Jason. I had other things I wanted to write for this prompt, but it got too late at night to write something long. Enjoy this short, hurt/comfort Jason and Damian bonding instead <3
-o-o-o-o-
Damian's only been captured for a few hours... and already he feels more miserable than he has in a long time.
None other than the Penguin stands before him, sneering cheek to cheek as his associates finish tying the knots around chest and the damp wooden pole his back leans against. The sand underneath him is rocky and sharp; he can already feel the curious laps of the returning tide against his tailbone. His hands are restrained behind the pole as well, while his legs are tied by his ankles. He's sitting, and stuck sitting thanks to the rope around his chest.
His head aches, which isn't very surprising considering the thing that got him in this situation was a well placed hit to his skull via a brick.
He didn't mean to get caught. He simply wanted to blow off some steam after getting fed up with Jason while on patrol. Of all people to be paired up with, it had to be Jason. It couldn't have been someone Damian gets along with like Richard, Duke, or Cassandra. It couldn't have been Timothy where they at least know when boundaries are being pushed with their banter. It couldn't have even been Stephanie, where she's at least funny.
No, the entire family was there, and Damian got paired with the one he doesn't know how to deal with. He got annoyed by the constant, demeaning tone Jason would use on him, and after one too many backhanded insults that only Jason found funny, Damian snapped. He doesn't even remember what exactly was said, he just knows he yelled at Jason to go on without him, and Jason didn't stop him when he turned the other direction.
Thinking back on it, Damian probably insulted him back, and the reason he let Damian go was because he was just as annoyed as Damian was.
It doesn't matter now. What matters is that he didn't intend to stumble upon the Penguin and his goons in some warehouse by the coast. He was just going to take down a few classic muggers or something of similar nature and go back to Jason and act like the argument never happened.
He intended to go back and tell his father about the Penguin's actions, but he didn't notice a pigeon until he almost stepped on it. Startled, it flew up at his face and he fell backwards right through the already broken skylight. He barely managed to slow his fall with his grappling gun, but he still hit the ground pretty hard. Hurt and surprised, he didn't have time to even stand up before the brick was smashed against his skull.
And now he's here, under Gotham's docks, being tied to a poll while the Penguin laughs to himself.
"I'll just let the tide kill you for me," he says to himself, yet his idiot goons still cackle. Damian glares at them, but they only laugh harder, sending down their own insults until the ocean water begins to pool up to Damians toes.
The Penguin makes a remark that it's time to go, and that he doesn't want to get his new dress shoes messy, and then they're gone, leaving Damian to attempt to tug on the ropes holding him against the pole. He tries to reach for the small blades he keeps in the compartments of his gloves, but his fingers come away empty. Curse Gotham's Rogues and their ability to actually use their brains and disarm their captives when they get their hands on them.
He strains harder on the ropes now, twisting and trying to reach any knots with his fingers, but all he succeeds in doing is cutting off the circulation to his hands and pressing the rope into his chest.
He relaxes with a frustrated huff and glares at the water that's already risen a few inches to ripple close to his hips. He knows that not long from now, the water will be above his head.
For now, it's freezing, and once it reaches his fingers, escape will become all the more impossible thanks to numbing appendages.
He tugs on the ropes, then tugs some more, and he keeps going until he has to stop and let the blood come back to his fingers.
The water continues to rise, seeping through his suit and into his bones, rising to his fingers, then his arms, then his shoulders... It's when it finally touches his chin when the despair and terror finally settles.
He can't get out. He can't get out. The ropes feel no more loose than what they were when he began trying to undo them, and his fingers are so numb now they must be turning blue under his gloves. His jaw aches from his chattering teeth, and his nose is beginning to run.
He pulls desperately on his bonds now, his attempts to escape becoming more and more reckless the longer he sits here. He's hyper-aware of the movement of the water around him, and his panic is making it difficult to breathe.
Through his terror, he hears something. The motor of a bike. He hears the engine cut out nearby. He can probably shout for help.
It's his last hope. He can only pray that whoever came to the docks at this hour of night, that they are friendly. He opens his mouth to yell for assistance, but he chokes when sea water enters his mouth. He scrambles his bound feet against the rocky sand, attempting to lift himself up the pole just a little higher, but he doesn't go anywhere. The ropes are too tight.
He's not sure if the water near his eyes is from him flailing in the water, or if it's because of frightened tears. Either way, he can feel the water tickling his nose, and he only has a split second to suck in one last breath of air before the water rises above any means to breath.
"Robin?" A deep voice shouts, and Damian could sob at the irony of it. "You here?"
Someone came looking for him, but they don't know where he is. He's going to drown under the feet of someone who could have saved him if they had come just minutes before.
The water rises over his head now, and he can no longer hear anything besides the racing of his heart. He can't feel his fingers or toes anymore, and he's sure he will drown with bruises under the ropes on his chest.
He's going to drown. He's going to die. His lungs hurt, already his oxygen is running out. He's panicking and it's cold and he's going to die-
He doesn't know how much longer he holds his breath, only that eventually, his mouth opens against his will and sucks in water that may as well be fire going into his lungs.
Black creeps into his vision... and with the last sight of dark bubbles erupting around him, he loses consciousness.
-o-o-o-o-
He wakes up vomiting. A strong hand wraps around his arm and holds him on his side so he can empty his lungs and stomach of salty sea water. It feels like his insides are being torn apart, but eventually it calms down a little so he can finally suck in a gasp of air.
The hand on his arm becomes two, snaking around his shoulder blades to sit him up and squeeze him against a broad chest.
"Holy shit," a familiar voice gasps, "Jesus fuck."
"J'son..." Damian murmurs, trying to make sense of what's going on. His throat feels abused, and his head pounds like drums. He's so tired, his eyes begin to drop.
"Nah don't you fucking think of it," Jason growls, pulling him away from his chest and giving him a hard shake. Damian blinks, trying to focus. Jason brings a hand up and brushes his dripping hair from his face.
Then, it all comes back to him. The tide... The water... He was drowning...
He thought he died.
But here he is, untied from the pole and on the docks, looking at Jason's bare and dripping face with his helmet castaway on the ground. He must have given him mouth-to-mouth... And his chest aches like he's taken a beating. Must be the combined bruises of the ropes and from chest compressions.
He's suddenly overwhelmed with emotions, all of his fear slamming right into him.
"You came," he croaks, not sure if it's because of his abused respiratory system or if it's because of his rekindled tears.
Jason's face twists, then he pulls Damian back in to squeeze him tightly once again. The hug is a surprise, and it hurts, but Damian doesn't fight it. He's too relieved and scared and confused and ashamed to fight it.
"When you didn't answer the comms, I thought you were still mad," Jason explains. The rumble of his voice in his chest against Damian's cheek is oddly relaxing. "But then it started getting late and I didn't feel right, so I asked Babs for your coords and- fuck- I thought I got you killed."
"How did you know...?" Damian asks, not willing to go further into the sentence and endure the pain of his throat.
Jason gives a laugh, and it's almost hysterical. "A lucky guess? I don't know, I guess it's just habit to look in the water when something goes wrong at the docks." There's a pause. Then Jason releases Damian once again. "I'm sorry. I said some things I shouldn't have. This wouldn't have happened if I kept my cool."
Damian shakes his head. It doesn't matter now. "You came."
Jason's lips twitch. "Of course I did. We're... Brothers. Even if we don't get along all the time, I still don't want anyone beating you up other than me."
Damian let's out a laugh, though it dissolves into a fit of coughs. Jason rubs his back during all of it, then once he calms down he helps him to his feet.
"C'mon," he says, "let's get you back home so Alfred can check on you. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can get getting yelled at out of the way for letting you go off on your own."
He helps Damian up to his feet, and Damian gratefully clutches to his jacket to steady himself. "I am to blame too. Once we tell father you helped save me, he will be less angry."
Jason snorts. "You think I'm worried about the old man? It's Dick I'm worried about."
"Ah," Damian grins, all the fear finally ebbing out from his system. "I'm afraid I cannot help you there."
Jason helps Damian onto the bike and returns his helmet so it's over his head. He holds Damian in front of him with one arm securely around his chest as he drives. He feels safe nestled against Jason like this. It's strong and unyielding. His relationship with the older man has always been strange, considering they weren't always on the same sides when Richard was Batman.
But this? This is safe. It's warm. Is careful and gentle. Normally he'd be embarrassed to be so vulnerable like this near Jason, but like Jason said... They're brothers.
He cannot help but feel a little disappointed once they finally make it back to the cave. Yet it seems he's misjudged Jason once again, because after he was rushed to the med-bay and Jason got an earful from Richard... he fell asleep and awoke the next morning with Jason still there.
Things may not be perfect with Jason, and they argue a lot, but Damians sure things have a chance of becoming better.
They're brothers, after all.
#damianwayneweek2021#damian wayne#Robin#jason todd#Red Hood#dc comics#fanfiction#jin writes#drowning tw#kidnapping tw
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Red: Pt. 10
Masterlist here
Jason’s whole morning was a mess of bleary-eyed madness. Louis had left the safehouse with Bizarro long before Alfred had arrived in a limo to pick Artemis and Jason up. Both of them didn’t have many belongings save for weapons, which Alfred insisted that they let him take care of.
“Master Jason, it’s wonderful you and Miss Artemis are able to visit this time of year. Your stay will be busy, I must warn you, but everyone will be there.”
“Wait, what’s happening?” Jason asked, trying to shake the weariness from his brain.
“Have you really forgotten, Master Jason? The annual Wayne charity gala is tomorrow.”
“Well it seems that you won’t have to call the rest of your family now,” Artemis remarked.
Jason could only slap his forehead. “Alf, i came for business, not to party. We’re all in danger. I mean, we don’t know for sure, but–”
“Then it seems suitable that you wait until at least the gala is over. Most of the family hasn’t arrived yet anyhow. Oh, and Miss Stephanie has arranged a shopping trip for the two of you. She assumes you both hadn’t brought adequate clothing in advance.”
“Aw, Alfred–” he was swiftly cut off by a jab to the side.
“Thank you Alfred. I’m sure Jason can enjoy some time with his family without any talk of business.” Artemis gave Jason a look, and he knew better than to oppose both her and Alfred.
The old man chuckled to himself as he pulled up to Wayne Manor. A full house was always nice, if not a bit of a handful. “I’m sure he can, Miss Artemis, I’m sure he can. Try to enjoy yourselves for a while. In the meantime, let me show you to your rooms.”
In short, Jason was not enjoying himself in the least. He was hungry and tired, and of course stupid Stephanie Brown made him go shopping. And Replacement would never let Damian hear the end of it if Jason dared complain. He would get his revenge. Somehow.
The one person Jason wouldn’t mind seeing wasn’t even in the city. Yeah, because Damian’s got friends now. Like Jason wasn’t the first friend Damian ever had. The little brat left him a note apologizing for his absence, but its formality only made Jason laugh. The kid should be with his friends, maybe learning how to talk like a normal ten-year-old.
Naturally, Steph wouldn’t make Damian go shopping. It was dreadful, with Steph practically hijacking Artemis and leaving Jason and Replacement (Tim) stranded in high end stores suspended in utter confusion. It wasn’t that Jason didn’t know how to shop, it was that stupid Brown wouldn’t let him touch anything without her approval of the item first. That left very few items in the store left for Jason to choose from.
It was simply maddening. Steph finally brought him a green suit and insisted that it was the one. “It’s viridian. It’s so in Jason,” he mocked when she asked to see it on him. He didn’t even get to see what she had gotten Artemis.
He didn’t have to try it on. And hallelujah, he got to go home. Much to nobody’s surprise, he didn’t get much rest when he got back to Wayne Manor either. Jason had scarcely returned to his room when he was tacked by a ten-year old whirlwind. Damian. The boy greeted him in the formal dialect of the League, a habit not yet broken. “Akhi! You came back!”
“Well that’s obvious, isn’t it? Woah, okay, let me breathe here Damian.” The boy obeyed and sat on the bed. He clearly wasn’t ready to leave anytime soon.
“Where have you been?” he asked, crossing his arms.” You haven't visited most– if any of your safehouses lately. I… I’ve been worried.”
Well the kid had changed then. Jason had to give the little prince some credit. The kid would never have said that in his right mind had he still been with the League.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to not even go on patrol? To not answer any messages? You practically disappeared, Todd.” Damian wasn’t buying it. One thing hadn’t changed, that was for sure. The prince would get the truth out of him one way or another. Honestly, Jason was a little (okay, maybe a lot) embarrassed to tell Damian that he’d been caught and in custody for two months. He hadn’t even tried, really tried to get out.
But, Jason figured it was better to be up front. Especially with a family of detectives with a notorious history of using secrets as blackmail.
Damian only scoffed in response.” Tt’. Really, akhi? You’re getting soft.”
“Speak for yourself, brat. Now let me sleep. I’m tired.” He flopped onto the bed, with no regard for the assassin prince still sitting there.
Instead of leaving, Damian snuggled up into the crook of Jason’s arm and soon fell asleep listening to the rhythmic beating of his brother’s heart.
Jason’s next interruption (named Artemis) came too early into the next morning. Damian was still where he had fallen asleep, dozing softly. At the sound of a knock, Jason regrettably blinked himself awake. “Come in,” he yawned.
“I see you’ve been able to rest. I was going to ask if you wanted to come train with me.” Artemis raised an eyebrow at the scene. “ It seems that you can tolerate at least one of your brothers' presence.”
“It’s a love-hate relationship.”
The Amazon snorted. “So are you going to take me up on my offer or not?”
“Yeah, I’m coming Red.” He carefully shifted Damian off of himself. Thankfully, the kid’s eyes remained closed. “Wait, before you go can you help me with my shoulder?”
“Are you not capable?” she asked, nevertheless sitting down beside him. Jason pulled off his shirt to let her inspect the wound. Most of his torso was covered in bandages as well as his shoulder. Peeling them back to see how the wound healed was a tedious task. Enhanced healing made it even more annoying on account of never knowing what to expect.
“Ow. Easy, Arty.”
“ Oh, be quiet. You should be fine by tomorrow. Just keep the gauze on for compression,” Artemis said, starting to re-wrap the bandages.
Jason closed his eyes with a small sigh, glad to sit there and do nothing. Relaxing was a weird way to put it, but he couldn’t find any other way to describe it. The tips of her hair brushed his face, surrounding him the scent of her shampoo. For the first time in months, he felt… calm.
“I assume you’ll be able to take care of yourself from here. Meet me downstairs in five.”
“Thanks Princess!” he called after her.
As soon as Artemis left, Damian’s eyes flew open. Jason groaned.”You’ve been awake this whole time?”
Damian nodded, grinning devilishly. “You’re getting soft akhi,” he piped, poking his brother in the ribs.
“And I’m going to kill you if another word comes out of your mouth.” Jason pulled on some suitable clothes for training and shooed Damian out before going to join Artemis.
Surprisingly, the training room was empty. That was especially unusual for this time in the morning with the Bats. Then Jason realized that everyone was probably helping out Alfred downstairs for that night. Not that training was easy work either. But he’d go help after.
“Took you long enough.” Artemis said, smirking. “Warm up and then we spar.”
She was going to kick his butt. He knew it. But he wasn’t going to argue. “Yes ma'am.”
Jason had half a mind to say that being an Amazon was plain cheating. Yeah, he held his own, but barely. The strength of the Lazarus wasn’t always on his side. Then again, Jason didn’t always have the privilege of fighting people his own size.
“Another round?”” Artemis asked, helping him up from the floor.
“Yeah, give me a sec,” he huffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his shirt. “Next round, I pick the weapon though.”
By the time Artemis was satisfied with the amount of training done, Jason felt like he was going to drop dead on the spot. Which–in a weird way– reminded him of how much he’d missed training with her. She didn’t let anyone get away with slacking off. Neither did Alfred, for that matter, which was why Jason needed to hurry up in the showers or else face the wrath of an all-powerful butler. A butler much too tired to deal with any kind of nonsense.
The evening came faster than Jason had anticipated. He examined his appearance in the mirror, doing his best at looking presentable. At first, he hadn’t been sure of Steph’s choice of colour, but he was surprised to say that he actually looked… good? Fingering the cuffs of his jacket, he eyed the ‘finishing touch’ that Bruce insisted he wear. A Rolex– one that Bruce had originally got Jason for his sixteenth birthday. He’d never gotten to wear it. Death tended to preoccupy a person.
After staring at the timepiece for at least five minutes, he finally made the decision to put it on. He headed downstairs, where a few of Bruce’s close friends as well as the boys were already present. The girls were soon to arrive, fashionably late, as Alfred had put it.
As if on cue, the doors to the hall were thrown open (a bit dramatically if Jason had anything to say about it). And Jason stopped. Wow. The girls all looked supermodel gorgeous. And Artemis– Just woah.
Her dress was clearly made to match his own outfit. Steph had clearly outdone herself there. It was green, high-necked and sleeveless, which flowed elegantly to her shins. Her red hair was pulled back, keeping the delicate curls out of her face and making the designs etched into her side-shave all the more striking. A gold armband circled her bicep, emphasizing her muscular physique.
“Good evening, Jason,” she said coolly, practically gliding across the floor.”Tell me, when did you decide to fulfill your dreams of being a statue?”
“This? Oh, this is a technique used to evade the reporters. You should try it sometime. Works wonders.”
The Amazon’s lips curled upward in amusement. “I see.” She reached across the table to steal an untouched patry from Jason’s plate.
“Hey! I was going to eat that.”
“It can’t possibly be that hard to get another,” she said, taking a bite. “Besides, you weren’t eating it.”
He gave her a look. Artemis shrugged, mouth full. “Ah, it’s fine. I’ll steal another one from the kitchen. Bruce wants us there for a briefing anyway.”
“Briefing?”
“Yeah, so the press doesn’t find anything fishy with us.” It sounded like a weird thing to do, but even when he was a kid, Jason had pre-gala briefings. What to say to the reporters, how to act (well mostly) what impression to give off. There was a whole science to it. Alfred didn’t teach the Bats drama in vain.
The kitchen, which seemed colossal while empty, slowly shrank as more and more people shuffled inside. Bruce quizzed each of them of their roles, and things they were not to do. Jason, for example, was not to get drunk and cuss out the press. Much to his own chagrin, Jason was expected to actually talk to some of the guests, and give off a good impression.
“Remember, you are all representing the Wayne name, even if you don’t bear it. Please act accordingly.”
On the bright side, Jason was able to sneak another pastry out. Man, he’d missed Alfred’s cooking. For all of his redeemable traits, Louis hadn’t been the best chef. It was a step up from the cooking at the correctional facility, but Alfred’s skillset was simply legendary.
The flash of cameras and clamouring reporters soon arrived to the manor. Limos that looked long enough to fit thirty people pulled up one after the other. He remembered watching them as a kid, in awe of the lavish use of their money. He remembered smiling so much at the cameras that his cheeks hurt. He remembered eating so much food that he felt sick afterwards- thereafter getting to wait the rest of the party out in his room. There was something satisfying about knowing there was a party downstairs and choosing not to be a part of it.
Jason was relieved once the guests settled into the hall and calmed down. Because he spent so little time with his own family, he felt like more of a guest himself. His brothers were busy talking to the elite, making small talk about whatever rich people were interested in. Artemis didn’t have much care to mingle, which was a small comfort to Jason. At least he could talk to her and not seem like a total loner.
“Bruce said I have to talk to some people this time.”
“Do you really plan to?”
“Well I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”
“Oh quit your blather Jason. What’s on your mind?”
He leaned an arm on the table, sighing. There were so many things. Coming back to Wayne Manor made him enough of a trainwreck as it was. Add onto that the threat of lurking Owls and the thought of Biz and Louis by themselves didn’t help. And the gala? All of that was the perfect recipe for something to go wrong. Artemis was the one thing that kept him from losing his mind. Well, partially.
“So many things Arty. Everything just piles up, you know?” She nodded solemnly, silently telling him to continue. “And I just…” he stopped, shaking his head, his entire vocabulary ceasing to exist.
She took his hand and looked him in the eye. “I know. It really does happen at the worst times. Family is a difficult thing, Jason, but it’s better to keep them in your life, despite how much you may want to drop-kick some of them off a roof.”
He laughed dryly. “How are you so perfect with everything Princess?”
“Perfect? I’m far from it. But you may keep believing that if you like,” she smiled.
Oh, he was so glad she was back. Her presence alone was strangely soothing. She could say nothing and deliver a whole conversation. He hoped she understood his mess of a mind. Words alone couldn’t convey his thoughts. Life was hard, feelings more so. He’d have to unwind all of that later. Public settings weren’t the place to get emotional.
“How do you think Biz and Louis are doing?” Jason asked, taking a sip of whatever carbonated drink the waiter had given him.
“I’m sure they’re getting along. Louis seems likable enough.”
“I thought you two didn’t get along?”
“Yes, we may not see eye to eye, but I know a sincere man when I see one. He’s dedicated to doing right, and I respect that.”
Jason gave her a small round of applause, making the Amazon roll her eyes. “So glad to see my favorite people getting along.” He raised his glass. “To the reunion of the Outlaws, and you being friendly,”Jason toasted and drained the rest of his drink without another word. Artemis gave him an exasperated look before following suit.
Tipping his glass to the light, he could’ve sworn he saw something. Was that… an owl? There was too much evidence of the Court following them for it not to be. What did they put in his drink? Upon placing the glass down, he nudged Artemis, motioning to his drink. Thankfully, she got his message.
She swirled her own glass around in her hand, watching the last sips slosh around. Finally, she set it on the table. “We really must ask the waiter what mystery drink he is giving out. I simply must have some more,” Artemis said, throwing a little too much enthusiasm into her last sentence.
The guests started to file to the middle of the hall. What the elite of Gotham had with waltzes, Jason would never know. But it seemed like a good way to pass information around the room discreetly. Jason got up, offering a hand to Artemis. “A dance, m’lady?”
“Sounds wonderful.” The pair glided across the floor, Jason grateful for Alfred’s training in this type of thing. He leaned close to Artemis’ ear, scarcely daring to whisper. “We need to tell someone they’re here.”
“We’ll split up,” she breathed. “Find Barbara. I’ll find Dick.”
“‘Kay.”
Jason was just about to hand her off to another partner when Artemis winced. “You okay?”
“Yes, it’s just… my head.” She brought a hand to her temple, grimacing. “I’ve got to go.”
Jason nodded. He could tell Dick himself. “Go on, I’ll meet you later.” He saw her off, and sat down in the corner, trying to locate Dick. He managed to catch his attention, only– his head started to pound too.
“You okay, Jay? You look terrible.”
Jason sucked in a breath. “Some’n messed with–” his tongue felt like lead. Nope nope nope. He needed to leave. “–drink.” he managed, dashing out the door and to the nearest washroom.
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The Best Cop in Blüdhaven
Dick walks into the dining room, and tries to look like he’s some mixture of nonchalant and casual.
He hasn’t been to Wayne Manor in about six months now, not after Bruce and he had the worst fight they’d had in maybe ever, with Bruce yelling at him that being both a cop and Nightwing was too dangerous, and Dick yelling back that he could take it.
Bruce stares at him, his cornflakes wilting in his bowl. He’s still in his pajamas, and Dick feels an odd sense of déjà vu.
(Late breakfasts on Sundays in the manor; Bruce wiping the Dick’s milk mustache off fondly. Dick laughing and jumping around, his tiny frame shaking with excitement. Sundays were when Bruce didn’t have patrol or work. Sundays were all for Dick. He remembers looking forward to them.)
“Dick?” He asks finally, all his questions encapsulated in one word.
“Hi, I- uh,” Dick puts his duffel down, avoiding Bruce’s eyes, “Happy Birthday.” He says, lamely.
Bruce chews on his cornflakes, still seated. His eyes are alight with something curious and biting. Like he knows. “My birthday is next week.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dick says, rubbing at his forehead, “shit. I mean, I-”
He cuts himself off abruptly, not being able to speak, and there is a brief pause.
“Cap'n Crunch,” Bruce says suddenly, and Dick looks up from the floor, “Damian eats that once in a while. There’s some in the pantry cupboards. I’m sure that it’s sugar to actual content ratio is suitably high. You’d love it. Sit down.”
Dick nods mutely. He appreciates what Bruce is doing- glossing over their previous fight like it never happened. He’s way too tired to deal with that right now.
He sits right next to Bruce, instead of his usual spot opposite from him, opting to pull the chair even closer to Bruce’s. He needs the extra closeness, right now.
Bruce either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. He puts his fingers on the back of Dick’s neck, warm and stable. Doesn’t even look up from his breakfast. Typical of him.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, his tone softer now.
Dick swallows convulsively and looks away, his vision blurry with tears, “I killed a man.”
The fingers on the back of his neck stay there, just as steady.
“What happened?” Comes the quiet reply.
Dick smiles ruefully, “Aren’t you mad at me?”
Bruce shakes his head, his cornflakes abandoned for the time being. “You’re a grown man, Dick. Does it matter?”
Dick is twenty five years old, but right now he feels like he’s twelve and he broke that Ming dynasty vase that Bruce had told him specifically not to touch.
He looks back at Bruce squarely, wiping at his face. “You know it does.”
Bruce sighs slightly, and pulls Dick gently to rest his head on Bruce’s shoulders. Dick obliges, closing his eyes against the hard, stable warmth of his father.
“Then no, I am not. I learned a long time ago that I can guide all of you, but you will have to find your own paths. Does that make any sense?”
Dick nods, his eyes still closed. “His name was Jason. Isn’t that funny? Like our Jason. Jason Coleman. Thirty eight year old white male. Me and my partner, we found him sitting in the bathroom of a subway station, high as a kite, holding a gun and his five year old daughter. So both of us drew our firearms. She was crying so hard, Bruce.” Dick says, staring blindly at the wall across them.
Bruce’s hand is stroking through his hair.
“We asked him to put the gun down, and that it was going to be okay, but he just- he just wouldn’t listen. I tried to reason with him, Bruce, I really did, but he wasn’t listening, and suddenly he turned the safety off, and he pointed it at her and I-“ Dick cuts himself off, too choked to speak.
“The point is,” Dick continues, “the point is that I’m an asshole who killed a man in front of his daughter. And that our were right about this whole cop thing. Maybe I’m just not the right guy for this.”
There is a short silence. The fingers in his hair still.
Then Bruce speaks. “If you want me to tell you that you could have thought that situation through better, I can do that. If you want me to tell you that you that lack of sleep from your night ‘job’ so to speak, had a part in this, I can do that.”
Dick nods, looking down again. It’s what he deserves.
“But Dick, if you want me to tell you that you are an incompetent, uncaring man, not cut out for the job of having to take down the worst of the worst men in one of the most crime-torn cities in the country, that you are not, in fact, one of the best cops Blüdhaven is lucky to have ever had, I’m sorry. I can’t do that, because that would be a lie.”
“You care so much,” Bruce whispers into his hair, “it’s one of the best things about you.”
Dick closes his eyes against Bruce’s shoulder. “Really?”
Bruce’s voice is so tender it makes his chest feel tight. “Of course, really.”
Dick puts an arm around Bruce’s shoulder, head still firmly tucked into his neck. He knows Bruce doesn’t like hugs, but that’s too bad, he’s getting one anyway. “Thanks, dad.”
Bruce squirms a little, but rests a palm on the back of Dick’s head. “You should come to the manor more often. Damian misses you.”
“Only Damian?” Dick asks, teasing.
“And Alfred, I suppose.” Bruce says, and Dick can almost hear the smile in his voice.
They stay that way until Bruce gets too uncomfortable, and pulls away gruffly. Dick laughs, and sits next to Bruce as he finishes his cornflakes that have basically become mush by now.
It’s strange how some people say you can never go back to your childhood home. Dick visits every Sunday.
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