Thanks to: As always, anakinlove and especially BookJunkie, who worked very hard to polish this one to be this good. :)
Warning: more trolling ahead. :) For you who are interested, excuses at the bottom. :)
PART IV
Teamwork
The only time Bruce had seen his three younger sons work perfectly as a team was when they agreed that Dick had to break up with his current girlfriend.
Usually
Bruce's youngest three sons didn't get along. This was a fact.
Usually, the boys would try their best to annoy (Jason), ignore (Tim), or kill each other (Damian).
In other words, when the three got together without Dick to play referee, all hell would break loose.
Usually.
But apparently today was not just any other Saturday.
Because Jason, Tim, and Damian were in the same room and NOT trying to kill one another. Yet. But Bruce still had hope.
In fact, the three of them seemed to be having some sort of civil conversation!
Later on, Bruce would find that they were planning how they would sabotage Dick's date – the third one with the same girl. Apparently his three sons saw this girl as a growing threat that had to be annihilated as soon as possible.
Stubbornness
They may not all share the same blood, but if there was a distinguishing batfamily trait, itwas their stubbornness. Surprisingly, it was not Bruce who held the 'most stubborn' title, but Dick. His stubborn want – need, the acrobat said – to unite all of their family was astounding to say the least. Most of the time Jason found it annoying. There was a reason why their family was described as dysfunctional, after all. At other, much rarer times, though, he was just glad his oldest brother was too stubborn to give up on him.
Fun
Damian did not think he understood Todd. The man was strange, even if not at the same level as Dick. Unlike Drake, Todd did not mind the fact that Damian used to be an assassin. In fact, he seemed to be overjoyed. Damian asked him about it, once.
"A normal brother?" Jason had echoed Damian's words, snorting derisively. "Where's the fun in that?"
Invitation
Jason was used to coming home to an empty apartment.
He was used to finding Dick, or sometimes Bruce, invading his home for idle chit-chat (Dick) or to lecture him (Bruce).
Hell, he was used to finding an assassin or two ready to kill him.
But to find the Demon Brat… Sitting on his armchair, legs drawn close to his chest, looking like he was right at home…
Well, technically, the boy was an assassin. But the bat-brat probably didn't come to kill Jason. Tonight. Or so he hoped. He'd just started to get along with the kid; it would be a real shame if he had to… dispose of the boy now.
In the end, he decided that being direct would be the best way to approach the situation.
"What the hell are you doing here, brat?" he asked. "And please tell me that you didn't bring the mother hen with you."
"Grayson's in the Manor," the kid answered.
"And he doesn't know you're here?" Jason pushed. At the boy's slightly guilty look, he groaned. "Great, he'll come barging in soon enough, then."
The Brat looked indecisive for a second, before his jaws clenched, set in determination. "Then we better talk fast."
"What do you want to talk about?" Jason asked nonchalantly as he took a seat on the couch, arms spread over the back of it.
"If I kill the Joker, will you come back?" the Brat asked, brutally blunt as he stared Jason right in the eye.
Jason was glad that he was already sitting down. He wasn't sure he could have remained standing otherwise. He blinked, letting his brain soak up the meaning of the boy's words and came up with, "… What?"
"If I kill the Joker, will you come back?" the Brat repeated his question annoyingly calmly, gaze never straying from Jason's face.
Jason didn't know how to answer that, so he took to teasing the kid in order to stall. "Oh," he mock-cooed, "So, you do care." He flung his hand to his chest dramatically. "I'm touched!" he said sarcastically. He was hoping the kid would take his bait. But of course he wouldn't be Demon Brat from Hell if he was that stupid.
"Grayson misses you," was the Brat's nonchalant answer as he shrugged.
Jason sighed, mentally cursing the boy for being so calm and too damn perceptive for his own good. He cursed Dick too, for good measure and because, well really, he was the one who was raising the Brat, after all. "In case you haven't noticed, kid, Robin doesn't kill."
"But I do," the Brat countered smoothly. "Raised as an assassin, remember?" Jason sighed once again as he kneaded his temple, trying to stem the headache he could already feel coming. "So, what do you say?" he asked when Jason kept silent.
"Bruce and Dick will hate you for that, you know," Jason said, in turn looking the kid right in the eye.
"Dick will understand," the boy said, though Jason could see the uncertainty in his gray-blue eyes.
"But your father won't," Jason deadpanned.
The kid shrugged helplessly. "You can't please everyone."
"Are you saying you're choosing me over your father?"
Another helpless shrug.
A pause. Then…
"No," Jason said.
Damian blinked. "'No'?" he echoed incredulously.
"No," Jason repeated, firmer this time as he shook his head.
"Why not?" Damian demanded.
"Just because," Jason answered, rolling his eyes. "Stop asking stupid questions, Brat. God, you're turning into Dick."
"I take that as a compliment," Damian was quick to retort.
"It wasn't meant to be," Jason grinned. He'd started to have hope that he could simply change the subject when Damian asked, "Will you come back anyway?"
Jason groaned. "No." He glared. "What part of 'no' don't you understand?"
"I simply don't take 'no' for an answer," came the smartass reply.
"Anyone ever told you how annoyingly stubborn you are?"
Damian smirked. "Numerous times," he answered without missing a beat. "So, will you at least visit sometimes?"
Jason pushed the heel of his hand into his temple. "If I say yes, will you stop pestering me?"
"Is that a yes?" Damian asked back.
"You little…" Jason cursed. Damian was unfazed. He simply waited patiently for Jason's answer, his yes. "Yes!" Jason snapped. "Yes, alright? I'll visit sometimes. There! Happy?" he growled, glaring at his younger brother.
"Very," Damian answered sweetly, grinning at Jason.
"Off you go," Jason said, making a shooing move with his hand, "before that mother hen of yours comes looking for you."
"I'll hold you to your words… Jayjay."
With that said, Damian was gone.
Jason looked at his window, at the gently swaying curtains, the only sign that Damian had ever been there. He muttered, "Brat, you're spending too much time with Dick. Way too much time."
Afraid
Before he met Dick, Damian feared nothing, not even death. But once he got to know Dick, he learned that there were many things he was afraid of; amongst others: disappointing father, failing Dick, getting Dick hurt, getting Dick killed…
And now, as he watched Dick try to bridge the gap between himself and Drake, to mend their damaged relationship, Damian found a new fear: being replaced.
Vice Versa
"You remember when you said I'm stuck with you, Baby Bird?"
"Yes. What of it?"
"You know what, it works both ways. Just like I'm stuck with you, you're stuck with me. I won't leave you."
"Oh. That's… good."
"So, don't worry, okay?"
"Who says I'm worried?"
Mistake
To Damian, most of Dick's opinions were ridiculous, while the rest were just plain stupid. But that didn't mean he was not right. Because he was. In fact, Damian was quite sure that his oldest brother was almost always right.
Almost.
There was one time when Dick was wrong.
He said that it was a big brother's duty to watch over his little brothers.
Well, Damian had to disagree with Dick on that one. He believed all brothers should watch over one another.
Declaration
"I don't hate you," Damian said.
"Right," Tim answered sarcastically. "That's why you've been trying to kill me for what, months?" he deadpanned, crossing his arms across his chest.
Damian was unfazed. "You were a threat," he explained eerily calmly. "And just like any other threat, you needed to be eliminated."
Tim was silent. As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, he understood what the younger boy was talking about. Damian saw him as a threat to his position as Robin. "You're Robin now. No one will replace you," he said. Try as he might, he couldn't completely hide the trace of bitterness in his voice. "Not anytime soon anyway."
"I know." Again with that annoyingly matter-of-fact tone.
"Then why—"
"You hurt him."
With that said, Damian was gone.
Tim stood there, teeth gritted, hands balled at his side. He already knew that. He didn't need Damian to remind him of that.
Peace Offering
Tim was smart.
He knew that Damian had been obsessing with making a de-aging serum ever since that time he'd been turned into an adult. As far as he knew, the 'kid' was still stuck.
So he offered his help.
"Why?" Damian asked, gray-blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"It's my way of apologizing," Tim said. To Dick was left unsaid.
Damian heard it anyway. "You know what I'm going to do with the serum, correct?"
Tim nodded.
"Yet, you still want to help?" By this time, Damian's suspicion was starting to fade, replaced by bewilderment.
Another nod. "Told you, I want to apologize."
"By helping me to shrink him into a child?" Damian asked, unable to hide his incredulity.
Tim shrugged, smiling sheepishly as he scratched the back of his neck. "Eh, stranger things have happened."
Damian nodded, accepting the answer. "Even if we can make it, how do we get him to ingest it?" he asked.
"Leave that to the professional." Tim's grin was positively evil as he said that.
Damian frowned. "'Professional'?" he echoed, confused.
Tim flipped his phone open, scrolled down his phonebook until he came to the name he was looking for. He showed it to Damian.
Written on the screen: Jason.
Damian's frown deepened. "Jason? Jason Todd? As in the Red Hood?"
"No, as in the Big Bad Wolf," was Tim's sarcastic answer, which Damian ignored.
"What makes you think he'll help us?"
"Let's just say I know how to… persuade him," Tim grinned, before he pushed the call button and put it on speaker.
Jason answered on the second ring.
"Listen, Replace—"
"Before you say anything, Jason," Tim was quick to cut off the older man. "Blackmail material on Dick. Lots of it."
A deafening silence on Jason's end. It lasted for only two seconds. Then…
"I'm in," Jason answered. His usually rough voice sounded lighter with excitement. "Whatever you're planning, I'm in."
"Sure," Tim said. "I'll call you again with the details." With that said, he hung up. He turned to look at Damian. The kid looked stunned. Tim grinned smugly.
"You…" Damian said, sounding speechless, the slightest bit of awe on his face. "… are a bastard."
Tim only laughed at that. "If you haven't noticed, Baby Bird, it runs in the family."
Pandemonium
Bruce had expected Chaos – with a capital C – the moment he saw a three year old boy looking too much like Dick for his comfort running around the Manor.
He was wrong. It wasn't Chaos, it was Pandemonium. Capital P.
It was only breakfast, and yet his sons had already made so much trouble.
He could only let out a long-suffering sigh as he watched his sons quarrel.
"You don't want your dessert, Shorty?" Jason asked even as he swept up Dick's pudding, not even bothering to wait for an answer.
"Jason!" Dick protested, hands reaching out towards Jason to take his dessert back. But his arms were too short, and the fact that Jason held the bowl over his head didn't help the matter, either. "Gimme back my pudding!" he demanded childishly.
"Why don't you make me?" Jason asked just as childishly, sticking his tongue out at Dick.
Dick crossed his arms, because his feet were too short for him to stomp the ground while he was sitting.
"Here." Damian pushed a bowl of pudding in Dick's direction.
"Hey!" came Tim's protest. "Give him your own dessert!" he said as he tried to snatch Damian's.
"Keep your filthy hands to yourself, Drake," Damian growled, pulling his bowl of pudding closer to himself protectively.
Meanwhile, Dick was eyeing the platters full of food in front of him, before his face cracked in a wide grin.
"Don't even think about it," Bruce warned, looking sternly at his technically oldest son over the rim of his mug.
Dick put on his most innocent face. "Think about what, Bruce?"
Bruce glared. Dick pouted, though he let his hands fall to his side.
Just when Bruce was mentally patting himself on the back for avoiding a food fight, Jason goaded Dick, who of course had to retaliate by throwing a… Bruce narrowed his eyes, was that a batarang? How the hell had Dick gotten his hands on one?
Jason snatched the butter knife on the table and threw it to deflect Dick's projectile. It ricocheted, naturally, towards Damian, who was still arguing with Tim thus not noticing the danger he was in. Fortunately, though, Tim did and he pushed his younger brother away, the knife whizzing past Damian only inches away from his cheek.
"Watch it!" Tim snapped towards his older brothers, who chorused a "Sorry!" without sounding remorseful at all.
Instead of thanking Tim, like any normal person would, Damian swatted Tim's hand away, snarling, "I don't need your help!"
"You're welcome, Brat!" was Tim's sarcastic response.
And while the younger boys were arguing Dick was busy chasing Jason, who was now running in the direction of the kitchen, taunting his brother all the way. After they had been in the kitchen for not even a minute, Bruce could hear the sounds of porcelain breaking, spoons, forks and other silverware clattering, something splattering on the floor, and, of course, Dick's laughter and Jason's muffled curses.
He kneaded his temple in a feeble attempt to soothe the headache building behind his eyes. Shouldn't Dick turning into a child trigger something like… brotherly protectiveness or whatever in his other sons? Something that made them softer, or something?
He was snapped out of that particular train of thought as Dick came running back into the dining room, laughing obnoxiously, Jason hot on his heels.
That is Jason, right? Bruce thought as he took a better look at the young man who vaguely resembled his second son covered in flour and God knew what else stuck in clumps here and there by… egg yolk? He didn't want to think how Dick could get his hands on those either, when he couldn't even reach the fridge handle.
"Come back here, you little rascal!" Jason roared, waving a spatula – Bruce took a double take at that. Huh. Never thought a spatula could look that dangerous. – threateningly in Dick's direction.
Dick stuck his tongue out over his shoulder in response. His squeal was high-pitched with fear or delight, Bruce couldn't decide, when Jason caught him. Dick squirmed but Jason's hold on him was firm.
"Gotcha!" The glint in Jason's eyes was positively evil as he cackled loudly.
Noticing the predicament Dick was in, Damian abandoned his fight with Tim and came to Dick's rescue. "Todd! You better not harm my little brother!" he yelled.
"Who are you calling your little brother, Dami?" Dick protested indignantly, still struggling in Jason's grasp, getting in a good kick to Jason's face and making the younger man crinkle his nose. Bruce suspected it had more to do with smelly feet than Jason actually getting hurt.
"Come back here, Brat! I'm not done with you!" Tim yelled in rage before joining the fray.
Bruce sighed at his four sons wrestling on the floor, tangled in a confusing mess of limbs. He was grumbling good-naturedly about wanting normal sons, all the while taking pictures – proof that the scene had actually happened.
Chocolate, Candy, Ice Cream
"I heard that you helped Damian with the de-aging serum, Tim?"
"Yes." A pause. "I figured you could use a break and, well, I… I wanted to apologize."
"For what?"
"The way I treated you."
"Tim—"
"Don't tell me it's okay, 'cause it's not. If Damian treated me like that, I'd so kick his ass."
"Tim, you don't have to…"
"Just, let me explain, okay?" A deep breath. "You might not remember, but I met you once, when I was little. You inspired me. You. Not Robin, not Nightwing, You, Dick. You were my hero. Still are. Then I met you and I couldn't be happier. But then Damian came and Bruce was gone and you… You took Damian as Robin… I felt like I was being replaced, like you didn't need me anymore."
"Tim, Damian didn't—"
"I know! Just, hear me out first, okay? So, Damian took Robin's mantle. That hurt. A lot. So I wanted to hurt you back. I know, stupid, huh? But I was just so angry, so disappointed, so… hurt… I… And for that, I'm sorry."
"Oh, Timmy…" Dick sounded troubled. "I'm sorry. I should've known."
"You shouldn't be. You couldn't have known."
"Of course I should have, it happened before. Jason, remember?"
"Still…" Tim shrugged, not knowing what else to say.
"Look, I'm sorry. For everything. I should've told you Damian wasn't your replacement."
"He's too special to be a replacement, right?" A trace of bitterness.
"I know this sounds corny, but trust me when I say you are all special in your own way."
A small smile. "Yeah, that's pretty corny."
"So, it's like this. I'm your brother, right?"
"Yes."
"And so is Jason, right?"
A reluctant nod. "I suppose. So?"
"So… Agh!" Dick ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Okay. Okay. So it's like this. You're candy," he said, earning an amused smile from Tim. "Damian's ice cream and Jason's chocolate, a dark chocolate, but chocolate nonetheless."
"Okay…" Tim nodded, unsure. He had no idea where Dick was going with this.
"And Bruce's coffee, like super black, and Alfie's cookies and Barb's…"
"Focus, Dick," Tim chided, though he had a fond smile on his lips.
"Oh, yeah. Where was I again?"
"Me candy, Damian ice cream and Jason dark chocolate."
"Right. So it's like this. I like coffee, cookies, chocolate and of course candy." This earned him another small fleeting smile from the younger man. "Later on, I find that I like ice cream too. But that doesn't mean I stop liking candy, right? Or chocolate for that matter."
Tim stared.
And stared.
And stared.
Then…
Something clicked in his brain and… "Oh." Blue eyes widened as understanding dawned on him. "Oh!"
Dick grinned, ruffling Tim's hair. "Yes. 'Oh', genius."
Tim swatted Dick's hand away, sticking his tongue out in an uncharacteristic display of childishness. Dick just laughed, shaking his head.
"But Dick, who's your favorite?"
A pause before a grin broke out on Dick's face. "You know I'm not picky about my food."
(Prank) War
It started simply enough with super glue on a few seats, tanning lotion in a bottle of body wash, hair dye in shampoo, and itching powder on bed sheets. Soon enough, though, it escalated into fart-like sounding klaxons and singing grapple guns. And before long, it had turned into a full-blown prank war where his sons were turning one another into kids and cats, where truth serums were put in drinks, and where female-pheromones were added to aftershave bottles.
Truce
When Bruce found himself with bright yellow hair, he knew that his four sons had agreed to come to a sort of truce. He didn't know if he ought to be grateful or not now that his sons had stopped pranking one another. Now, it seemed, they were targeting him.
Bruce sighed. "Why can't I have normal kids?" he wondered out loud. "You know, Alfred, ones less mischievous."
An amused smile on his lips and a knowing glint in his eyes, Alfred simply answered. "I believe your life would be less… colorful that way."
Bruce stared at his reflection, at his bright hair to be exact. "Less colorful indeed," he smiled ruefully.
Worst
Bruce thought that his sons having what he had called "Birdies Civil War" – in his head only, though he suspected Alfred somehow knew – was the worst.
Unsurprisingly, he was wrong.
His eye twitched as he went to his closet, looking for a new shirt, only to find that all of his shirts had shrunk overnight and turned the brightest of colors – yellow, green, orange, pink.
His sons – because he was pretty sure there was more than one culprit– had gone on another crazy pranking spree. Only this time instead of pranking one another, they chose to gang up on him.
Surely nothing can be worse than this.
Note
On one of his shirts was taped a note. It read:
Really sorry, B. But it was either joining them on this or facing all of them.
-D
Complete with a smiley face at the end.
Bruce crumpled the note in his hand. Dick didn't sound sorry, not at all.
End
Bruce wasn't surprised when it was Alfred who stopped his sons' madness.
One disapproving look from Alfred and the four boys (because that was what they were, even if they all insisted otherwise) were staring down at their feet in shame. Dick was scruffing his foot on the carpet. Jason was scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit he'd never been able to break. Tim was twiddling his fingers, peeking from behind his bangs at the grandfatherly butler every five seconds or so. Damian had his arms crossed, though Bruce could see the uneasiness in the way he stood.
They all wore the same guilty look on their faces.
"Sorry, Alfred," Dick said, speaking for his three younger brothers too. "It was… childish of us," he looked at Alfred with a sincerely apologetic look on his face.
Alfred kept his stern expression for a moment longer, before he nodded understandingly. "Just please, refrain from having anymore prank sprees," he said, chiding, "I'm getting too old for this."
"Of course," Dick agreed eagerly. "But, you know you're not too old for anything, Alf."
But even as Dick promised Alfred they'd never do it again, Bruce could see him cross his fingers behind his back.
R-rated
Jason had his handgun trained on the newest super villain wannabe, ready to kill him should the man make even the slightest suspicious movement. And through it all, Damian – flying solo for once, though how the kid could get away from Bruce and Dick was a mystery to Jason – simply watched, gaze impassive, looking bored.
"You're not going to talk me out of killing this guy?" Jason asked, stealing a glance in the boy's direction.
Damian shrugged, not caring. "Will it work?" he asked back.
Jason thought about it for a moment. "Nah, most probably not," he answered truthfully.
"Then I won't bother," Damian said simply, body relaxing as he leaned on the wall.
Curious, Jason pushed the issue, a frown on his face. "You won't even try?" Damian shook his head. Jason's frown deepened. "And here I thought not killing is one of your codes."
"The Batman's, not mine," Damian was quick to rebut. "Personally, I've got nothing against killing people. Especially criminals."
Jason did not know which was more worrying: Damian's brutal honesty or the fact that the Brat's admittance unsettled him more than he was willing to admit.
"You going to shoot him?" Damian's question snapped Jason out of his thoughts.
Jason considered Damian's question for a moment before deciding to ask back, "Are you allowed to watch gory movies?"
Arms across his chest, Damian scowled. "They should've let me."
Which meant no, Damian could not.
And Jason found himself grinning widely. Over the years the rule of kids not being able to watch any R-rated movies had yet to change, it seemed. And if Bruce, Alfred, and, of course, Dick had tried so hard to shield Damian from any kind of violence – excluding patrolling – who was he to ruin their hard work?
With that thought in mind, he slipped his gun back into its holster. The criminal he was fighting might not be a complete fool, but he was certainly not on the same level as the Arkham Regulars. And with the Baby Bird here, there was no need to worry he would escape.
Damian seemed to be surprised by Jason's action, but he regained his composure soon enough. "Going soft, Hood?" he asked, a teasing grin on his lips.
Jason did not lose his composure, he simply grinned back and said, "Whatever you say, Brat. I'm just not foolish enough to invoke the wrath of the scariest mother hen on this side of the galaxy for corrupting his already-corrupted Baby Bird."
Damian scowled. Jason smirked triumphantly.
Red Hood 1, Baby Bird 0.
"So you are scared of 'Wing."
This time, it was Damian's turn to grin smugly, while Jason glared heatedly at him.
Whose brilliant idea was it to make Dick the brat's mentor?
Father's Day
Bruce woke up with a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. And he knew it was that time of the year. The one day when his sons went from being merely difficult to being entirely impossible to handle.
It was Father's Day!
After taking care of his routine – along with hiding as many weapons as possible on his person – he went towards the dining room.
He had expected to see a ruined room with an unconscious Alfred in one corner (because he knew Alfred would not let anyone mess with the sacred dining room without a fight), but he was not prepared to see the sight that greeted him.
All of his sons were sitting at the table, chatting quietly as they waited for breakfast. He could only assume they were going over whatever devious plot they had planned this year, one last time. He just knew that all hell would break loose the moment his sons noticed his presence in the room. His muscles tensed in anticipation.
To his surprise, they simply greeted him as they would any other day. Dick merely waved at him, smiling at him along with Tim. Jason nodded curtly while Damian bade a formal greeting.
It baffled him, but it did not help with his anxiety. If anything it only made him more suspicious. It felt too much like the calm before the storm. And if his sons were this calm, he was scared to imagine how bad the storm would be.
Throughout the day, he kept a close eye on his sons, ready for anything they might throw at him. But he was not prepared for the one thing they all did: they behaved themselves. They were so good, so nice, it was scary. Even Damian never tried to kill – or even maim – anyone. He did not even ask. Bruce started to think the world was ending when he came to a relieving conclusion: these were not his sons. They just could not be.
"Who are you and where are my sons?" he demanded when he finally had had enough. He refused to be driven mad by their good behavior any longer.
Damian frowned, looking hurt. Dick pulled him into a hug, shooting a dirty look at Bruce. Bruce flinched inwardly, the last thing he needed was to invoke Dick's anger, but he refused to back down. This… this tame being could not possibly be his youngest son. It was just impossible.
"We are your sons," Dick's impostor said, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
"Impossible! My sons are never this well-behaved!"
"Are we that bad?" the fake Jason asked Tim's impersonator, an amused smile on his face. Fake-Tim simply shrugged, looking just as amused.
"Give me back my unruly children!"
"Huh? Never thought Alfie could be wrong about this kind of thing," not-Dick murmured to himself, looking honestly dumbstruck. "And here I thought you would be happy if we, for once, acted nicely," he rolled his eyes. "Oh well, if that's what you want," he said, lips tugging up in a mischievous smile, eyes glinting as he exchanged glances with the younger boys – Bruce was sure those looks conveyed coded messages as somehow they all suddenly seemed to understand what to do next, "then that's what you'll get."
With a snap of Dick's finger – he was always one for being dramatic, Bruce thought fondly – each of his sons pulled out their choice of weapon; a permanent marker for Damian, a set of the most ridiculously colored nail polish for Tim, a tangle of hair ribbons for Jason, and, of course, Dick's favorite "weapon": his camera.
Body tensing for a fight, Bruce snarled, "Over my dead body!"
Fight
The first time Damian had a fight with Dick was over the last of Alfred's cookies. Dick had tackled him the moment he realized that Damian also had his eyes on the very last of the sweets on the plate.
They wrestled then: tumbling, rolling, kicking, punching, even biting – doing anything to gain the upper hand.
Then Tim came around. "No one wants this?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before he took the Last Cookie.
Damian and Dick could only stare at Tim in disbelief.
Agreement
Damian and Dick glared at Tim, who only said, "Oops, sorry," without sounding sorry at all.
Damian narrowed his eyes, ready to pounce on Drake when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dick. He growled. "Don't," he said, "Just don't." Because whatever Dick said, he wouldn't change his mind.
But Dick only said, "I'm with you on this one."
Damian turned to look at Dick, wondering if the man was serious. To his surprise, the man was dead serious. Damian smirked, a matching grin on Dick's face.
With a cry, they jumped on an unsuspecting Tim. He had no chance.
Alliance
If Bruce had to guess which of his sons be would most likely to form an alliance, he would say his oldest and his youngest. He had heard many stories about the great team they made back when they were still the Dynamic Duo.
If his sons would go two-on-two, however, then he would expect it to be Dick and Tim versus Damian and Jason. Their similar natures would make them gravitate towards each other.
He should have known better than to have expectations for his sons.
Since his sons really liked to prove him wrong these days, he found it was Damian and Tim who were tied to chairs, covered in red and blue goo, with Dick and Jason laughing on the side.
Nine Out of Ten
"I thought you said that Grayson and Todd fought all the time, Drake?"
"I said most of the time."
"And how often is that?"
"Nine out of ten."
"And the one time they don't fight?"
"They make one helluva team."
"'One helluva team', huh?"
Text
Tim was not stupid, far from it. So of course, he noticed the glare of doom Damian threw at Jason when Dick leaned on him, resting his head on the younger man's shoulder, laughing quietly, as if sharing a private joke. And at that moment, he didn't need any mindreading superpower to know that Damian was planning to kill Jason for "snatching" Dick from him.
And since Tim cared for Jason, he sent a text to warn his older brother.
"Demon Brat has eyes on you. You're so screwed."
A laughing emoticon at the end.
He was such a good brother.
Logic
Even without Tim's oh-so-kind warning (could you tell he was being sarcastic?) Jason knew what Damian had in mind for him. And the exact reason behind it.
Despite the fact that Dick was no longer part of the Dynamic Duo, Jason knew that Damian still saw himself as the oldest bird's partner. His sole partner.
Jason imagined Damian did not take it too well to seeing him go buddy-buddy with their oldest brother.
Logically, Jason should simply tell Damian that Dick and he were not partners. That Damian's position was not threatened in any way. Hell, he should tell the kid that Dick and he could never stand to be each other's partner, for good measure.
That was the logical thing to do.
But Jason was never a fan of logic (that was more like Timmy, his replacement).
So instead of calming the brat down, he riled him up.
Jason pulled Dick close, chin resting on the older man's shoulder, one arm circling his waist in a possessive embrace.
It worked wonders.
Unsheathing his katana (where the hell did the kid get that? Jason thought Dick had hidden it away the first time they became partners), Damian pointed it at Jason. "Get away from him," he growled aggressively, the threat in his voice crystal clear.
Logically, Jason should step back, hands raised in surrender. But he snuggled closer instead, tightening his hold. From the corner of his eye, he could see Dick looking down at him with an eyebrow raised questioningly. Which he ignored, for the sake of annoying the little bird. "Why don't you make me?" he asked, challenging as he grinned at his youngest brother.
Cold blue-grey eyes narrowed. "You asked for it!"
And Damian leapt at him.
Newfound
Jason never thought that he would come up with the word "cute" when he thought about his youngest brother. Yet, here he was…
He grinned widely as he jumped from one rooftop to another, Damian hot on his heels.
"Well, I know he was your partner. But he is flying solo now, and so am I. And he and I work together wonderfully well. We will make a great team, don't you think?" Jason taunted, knowing all the right buttons to push to annoy his little brother.
A katana flying his way was Damian's answer.
Jason cackled as he dodged the weapon. He was starting to understand why Dick liked to mess with their heads so much; it was fun. He was happy to have a newfound hobby: annoying the Demon Brat.
Brain Over Brawn
Tim simply smiled when he watched Jason and Damian fight over who got to be Dick's partner. It seemed they had forgotten that they were not the only brothers Dick had. He grinned victoriously when he succeeded in snatching the oldest bird's partnership for the night's patrol from under his two arguing brothers' noses.
"Brain over brawn, boys," he smiled sweetly as he bragged in a sing-song voice, ignoring the death glares his brothers were sending him.
Surprise
Looking back, Tim realized that it had been glaringly obvious. He should have known there was something up the moment Jason and Damian approached him together. After all, those two would never team up without a more pressing matter to take care of (usually Dick having a date.)
In his defense, Tim would say that he had been too shocked to think that far ahead.
It had been Tim's birthday when Jason and Damian came to him, with a box – with its bright red wrapping paper and green bows atop of it, it looked like a birthday gift – in the younger boy's hands.
"Here," Damian had offered the box with his usual predatory grin on his face. At the time, Tim had chosen to ignore it, thinking that it was his little brother's default smile. That had been his first mistake.
"Thank you," Tim had said once he got over his shock. Jason and Damian had shared a look then, before grinning even wider. That had been another clue that Tim had simply chosen to overlook.
"Why don't you open it, Timmy?" Jason had asked, his voice uncharacteristically sweet.
Dumbly (because never in million years would he think to put the words Jason and sweet together in the same sentence), Tim had done as suggested. He had opened the box and…
… promptly got punched in the jaw by the boxing glove that sprung out.
"Bastards!" After recovering, Tim had chucked the box in Jason's direction, who simply ducked, laughing all the way.
The prank didn't hurt him as much as it annoyed him. The fact that his two brothers were laughing and high-fiving each other didn't help, either.
Behind the Scene
Perched atop one of the tallest buildings in Gotham, disguised as the Batman, Bruce watched as his three younger sons chased one another. Jason was in the lead, taunting Damian all the way. Hot on their heels, hell bent on taking revenge, was Tim. Good, sweet, calm Tim, who was now spewing the most vulgar curses Bruce had ever heard at his brothers for their little trick.
Bruce cringed. It's always the quiet one who becomes the most frightening when angry.
And of course, all of this would not even have happened if not for his oldest son. Bruce turned to look at Dick, who was busy watching his brothers through a pair of Bat-techno-enhanced binoculars. Bruce was sure they had a video-recording feature. Dick and his blackmail obsession.
"When will you tell Red Robin that it was you who gave them the idea for that, I quote, 'wretched misleading birthday gift'?"
"When he figures it out for himself or when he crosschecks with Hood and Robin," Dick answered, not bothering to even look at Bruce.
"And why are you doing this again?" Bruce asked.
"So they can bond," Dick answered as if it was obvious.
Bruce turned to look back at his younger sons. Jason now had his guns out, a disturbingly wide grin on his face as he aimed each at his younger brothers. Tim had his bo staff with him, glaring at both Jason and Damian. While Damian, predictably, focused on Jason, ignoring Tim completely.
"Bond," Bruce deadpanned.
Bonding
"Just watch," Dick said with a grin on his face.
And that was when Bruce realized that a gang of lowly criminals was approaching his quarrelling sons. His body tensed, ready for a fight, but Dick's hand on his shoulder prevented him from taking any action.
"They can take those goons easily, even alone," Dick said.
"But they are not alone, now, are they?" Bruce hissed, glaring at his oldest son.
"They're together, which is always better than being alone."
"Fighting," Bruce could not help the growl as he pointed out this fact.
"Are they?"
"They—" Bruce turned, just in time to see Tim intercept a goon who was sneaking behind Damian, with scarily accurate timing. Not a moment later, Tim was being shoved aside by Jason. Bruce frowned in disapproval at Jason's seemingly thoughtless action, before he realized that despite his previous infractions, Jason was actually pushing Tim away from the line of fire.
Jason grinned, aiming his own gun at the thug who was just about to shoot Tim. But before he could pull the trigger, Damian had already made his move. He kicked the back of the criminal's head, hard, and the goon fell unconscious.
Damian smirked as he said something to Jason, who scowled at the younger boy, but put his gun back.
Dick's grin was smug as he said, "See, bonding."
Okay, excuse time! So, just so you know that I'm sorry for the (very) late update. And I know I promised a longer chapter, but you see... The problem was this one got very long, then I just had to divide it into 2 parts. In other words, yeah, I have another chapter after this. Aren't you happy to hear that? ;p And the reasons why it took me very long time to post this were because: 1) I was (still kinda am) busy with my college life. 2) Because it took me (and BookJunkie)some time to finish and polish this, so tell me what you think! :)
I changed the formatting a little in this chapter. Instead of dividing every part, a line is used to divide every "arc", as BJ put it. Tell me what you think about it. And, of course, thank you very much for all the reviews and faves and follows, they motivate me to write more and better. :)
Since, this chapter is more fun than drama or hurt/comfort hopefully this one can make you all laugh. Good day everyone and see you, hopefully soon. :)