"SOMEONE GET HIM!" a man yelled into the crowd, his face practically purple, his veins popping out from his neck, gun waving around at the crowd threateningly. "SOMEONE GET THE BATMAN OR BRUCE WAYNE DIES!"
Most people really didn't care if Bruce Wayne lived or died, Dick thought as he watched the crowd of people. That much was obvious. Most of them were murmuring this and that about running, about calling the police, about saving themselves because they were just a bunch of ungrateful rich people who came to the Wayne Gala in order to show off how rich they were.
It was the same every year.
Or. It used to be the same every year. This gun-waving maniac was new to the party this year, and the worst part? He was holding Bruce hostage and wanted Batman to show up and negotiate for Bruce's life. Two things wrong with that request, even if the maniac didn't know it.
For one, Batman didn't negotiate with criminals (usually, there were some exceptions Dick couldn't think of on the spot), and for another, Bruce Wayne was Batman. He couldn't exactly slip away and become the Batman without drawing everyone's attention.
And there came Dick's bad mood. He usually wasn't this snippy, even in his thoughts, but here, hugging the wall of the Wayne Gala, Cassandra and Damian next to him, and Bruce giving him the stink eye, Dick was supposed to step up. He was supposed to become something he hated.
And yes, he hated being Batman.
Dick sighed, catching his siblings' attention. Cassandra blinked at him, but after a moment, her eyes softened, and she seemed to understand.
Damian on the other hand, didn't. "What now, Grayson?" he ground out, scowling at the gunman, who he wouldn't take his eyes off of. Dick didn't blame him. The guy seemed ten kinds of crazy, and if Dick didn't know how capable Bruce was, he might be kind of worried, too.
But right now, he wasn't so much as worried as dreading putting that cape back on.
"I've gotta go," Dick muttered, running a hand down his face.
"Right now?" Damian asked, bewildered. He finally switched his gaze from Bruce to Dick.
"Yes, right now," Dick said. "The guy wants Batman, so I have to give him Batman."
Damian seemed to think over that. "Then I'll go with—"
"No," Dick cut in before his little brother could finish. He looked Damian straight in the eye. "Stay here." When Damian opened his mouth to argue, Dick snapped, "It's only us three here. If two or even all three of us disappear while Bruce is being held captive like this, it's going to look suspicious. Hell, it's going to look suspicious even if I just disappear, but we don't really have a choice. Best not to make it worse than it's already going to be."
He didn't mean to snap. He didn't mean to be in a bad mood. But just thinking about becoming Batman for even a few minutes was like something from his nightmares. He had hated being Batman, even if he didn't regret it. So yes, he was in a bad mood and he was snapping at the people he loved, but he would never say, shut up and do as I say because he wasn't Bruce. He'd never do that to Damian or Cass. He would at least try to explain his reasoning, even if the gunman was getting antsier by the minute.
Damian was quiet for a minute. Cassandra, though, didn't look happy.
"Dick," she said quietly, "I know you don't want to do this."
"That doesn't matter." It did matter. It so mattered. "If I don't get out there soon, that guy is going to shoot Bruce, and we're in front of the richest people in Gotham. Some of them are going to be smart enough to connect the dots if Bruce does anything to stop that guy. I have to go."
"Then I'll go," Damian declared, straightening up. "I'll be Batman."
"No."
But Damian didn't look the least bit deterred. "I'm not a child."
"You're thirteen years old, Damian," Dick said. "If you come in wearing the cowl, no one is going to take you seriously."
"Then I'll do it," Cass said, dark eyes determined. "I'll be Batman."
"Cass," Dick said as seriously as he could, as gravely as he could, "you're five inches shorter than me. You can't be Batman. Hell, I can barely be Batman, but I'm the closest thing we've got. I've got to go."
"I'll call Alfred," Cass shot back. "He can get Clark to be Batman."
"Or Todd," Damian said, though it looked like it almost physically pained him. "Todd would do it if Pennyworth asked."
"What about Wally?"
"Or me."
"Dick already said no," Cassandra frowned. "Besides he's right. Neither of us are the right height. We could probably call Wonder Woman. She's just barely shorter than Bruce."
Dick couldn't believe his ears. They were really arguing about who they were going to call to pretend to be Batman. All while Dick—someone who already had experience being Batman—was standing right here.
"I'm going," he announced, pushing off the wall and making his way towards the door. To his dismay, Cass and Damian were right on his tail. "Go away," he hissed when they made it to the hall without being seen. "It has to be me."
"Fine," Cass said. "But try not to be seen."
"What is with you guys?" Dick asked, gaze flicking between his two siblings. "Why are you so dead set on me not being Batman?"
To his surprise, it was Damian who answered. "You don't like it."
Cass nodded. "You don't like it," she repeated. "You hate putting on the cowl, and if there's another option—"
"There isn't," Dick said. The three of them sat in the tense silence for a moment, Cass's face blank, Damian's lip twisted into a scowl, and Dick couldn't help but sigh, his shoulders dropping. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's not you. I know you're only trying to help, but I have to do this. We've already wasted enough time as it is."
"Fine," Damian said. "But don't be seen. Take him out from the vents and make it quick."
Dick's smile was small, but it was still there. He was lucky, he realized. He was lucky to have these two watching his back. They knew he hated donning cape and cowl, and then they tried to find a solution that didn't involve Dick becoming Batman.
And the don't be seen part was them looking out for him, too. If he wasn't seen, then he wouldn't have to play the part of Batman for the crowd. He would take the guy out and move on, even if he was under the cowl.
"I will," Dick told them. "Thanks."
It's late and it's not my favorite but I do hope you still enjoyed it.