Title: Hula Hoops and Snack Breaks
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world.
Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown (mentioned)
Summary: Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like experience Family Day.
Note: This is the last installment of Grade School. It'll be told in five parts.
I've really enjoyed writing these stories, and it'll be hard to let this go, but this is how I planned to end it from the moment I started the series.
I hope you guys enjoyed reading Grade School as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Dick flipped through the pamphlet, unable to stop himself from grinning.
Not that he wanted to stop.
Admittedly, the beginning of the day had left him feeling like he'd made the biggest mistake of his life by even suggesting that they come to this event.
Admittedly, dealing with Stacy and then watching Tim traumatize her had been horrifying.
Admittedly, Jason's tour idea had nearly pushed him to a breakdown.
But!
It had all turned out okay! They'd taken pictures! They'd intimidated jerks who were mean to Dami!
The day was turning around, and it might even get better: Jason and Cass were obviously getting into it, and Tim was clearly coming around – sort of. And Dami…
Well, Dami was a work in progress.
So was Bruce.
But things were still better than they had been when they'd first gotten here, so Dick had hope.
"Well, Grayson?" Damian demanded. "What next?"
He didn't exactly sound happy about there being a "next", but at least he was asking. Showing interest was a good sign.
Dick hummed and turned to Damian with a smile. "I've got a great idea."
"No, you don't," Jason said, smirking.
Dick stuck his tongue out and turned back to Damian. "On the other side of the campus – bouncy house."
"Yes, absolutely," Jason said, a wide smile forming on his face.
Cass nodded vigorously.
(I knew it was a great idea!)
"No," Bruce said.
"…Bouncy house?" Damian repeated derisively, sneering.
"Absolutely not," Tim said, looking at him like he'd lost his mind.
Well, if he had, it was definitely their fault.
"Well," Dick replied, "it looks like we're tied. So… I think we're gonna' go."
"That's a horrible idea, Grayson."
Jason pursed his lips and shrugged. "Honestly, kid, it doesn't matter what you think. We're going. Definitely."
Dick grinned at Jason. He was pretty sure that Jason was planning something ridiculous and didn't actually respect the sanctity of bouncy houses – bouncy houses were awesome; they were like trampolines, but cooler! – but Dick would take what he could get. There was no telling how long Jason would be on his side, anyway.
Tim scoffed. "Didn't you just say that you didn't want to do anything he suggested?"
(Why do you have to bring stuff like that up, Timmy?)
Jason snorted. "You can't put me in a box, Tim!"
Tim shot him a dry look. "You put yourself in a box. Like, one minute ago. Everyone was here for here for that."
"Yeah? Well, you can't keep me in a box; I'm taking myself out of the box!"
"Pity," Damian stated. "I liked you better there."
Well.
That sounded vaguely homicidal and would only lead to a completely different and much more disturbing conversation, so:
"We're going to the bouncy house, because bouncy houses are awesome? Right? Cass?"
Cass nodded. "It sounds fun."
He beamed at her; she was really getting into the spirit of the day!
"Cass thinks it's fun, and we should listen to Cass, so we're going."
"Oh, we should listen to Cass, huh? Where was that attitude when she said she didn't want to come?"
And Jason was no longer on his side.
Well, he might still want to go to the bouncy house, but he had completely shifted gears at this point.
Dick rolled his eyes. "Can we focus on what matters here? The bouncy house is a great place where only good things happen; that's where we need to be."
"You do know that 5 kids were injured when a bouncy house got swept away by a gust of wind, right? And another kid died from the same thing happening."
Dick stared at Tim in horror. Why did it always have to be this way?
"How do you know this?" Jason demanded, gaping at their little brother.
Tim shrugged nonchalantly. "I know things."
"Debatable," Damian retorted. "Though, for once, Drake has a point. These… bouncy houses," he said, spitting out the phrase disdainfully, "are obviously death traps. And the name alone sounds idiotic. We shouldn't go."
Dick was about to counter Damian's statement with an argument mostly composed of the words "fun", "crucial childhood experience", and "please", when Bruce cut in.
"You are aware of the height and weight restrictions, aren't you?"
They all turned to stare at him.
"Damian is the only one who'd be allowed to go in."
"Crap," Jason muttered. "Why are all of your ideas so horrible, Dick?"
"I got caught up in the moment!" Dick explained. "It's a bouncy castle! They're fun."
"No, they're not," Tim commented. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."
"I can," Damian muttered.
Tim rolled his eyes. "Well, we're obviously not doing that-"
Dick found himself sighing simultaneously with Cass. Who even followed those height and weight rules anyway?
"So, what are we doing?" Tim finished.
Dick hummed thoughtfully, letting the bouncy house idea go and turning back to the list of activities in the pamphlet.
"Getting food," Jason suggested.
"You suggested the tour; it's my turn," Dick retorted.
"Hunger trumps turns," Jason said plainly. "And, just because Tim subsists purely on coffee-"
"That's not true," Tim protested.
"Yes, it is; you're a pathological liar."
"You're just saying things we already know, Todd."
Jason snickered. "Well, I don't want you guys to forget who Tim is, you know?"
"Okay, can we get back to the point? If you had one?" Tim redirected.
Jason rolled his eyes, but complied. "Food. I want some. Let's eat. They're selling carnival food, right? Deep-fried corndogs."
Damian snarled. "That sounds disgusting, Todd."
"You're a vegetarian, so no one cares," Jason retorted.
"I love how you marginalize an entire group just because Damian's in it. I respect that. I aspire to that," Tim remarked.
"Oh, grow up, Drake."
"After you, Demon – if your growth hasn't already been stunted so badly that-"
"We can eat after we do an activity!" Dick interrupted.
He didn't want to hear about Tim talking about things being stunted. He also didn't want Damian to attack Tim for picking on his height.
Again.
"Right, Bruce?"
Bruce looked like he didn't want to be pulled into this. Well, too bad. He shouldn't have had so many kids if he didn't want to deal with things like this. It was really his own fault.
"Right," Bruce said with a grimace. "Let's go."
"Where?" Cass asked.
Dick blinked. Right. He needed to pick something. "Ah… Oh! Hula hooping!"
"Kill me now," Jason moaned.
"So, you begging for death is going to be a recurring thing today?" Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow and smirking slightly.
"Apparently."
"It doesn't have to be," Damian said.
"What's with you and killing me today, Damian? Shouldn't you be focusing that on Tim?"
"I think he has enough homicidal intent for both of us, Jason."
"I certainly do, Drake."
Dick sighed and hung his head. "You're not supposed to admit to that, Little D."
"At least not in public," Cass added.
"Can we go?" Bruce interjected.
Dick smiled and turned to him. "Finally enjoying yourself, Bruce? I knew you'd come around."
He looked unamused. Dick just grinned wider and put his arm around Cass's shoulder.
"This is going to be great," he said. "I can break my hula hooping record. I need to get a video of it though; Steph never believes that I can go as long as I can; I don't know why she doubts me."
"Tim, you want to take this one?" Jason asked.
"A deny you the pleasure? Never."
"Really, guys?" Dick questioned, looking back over his shoulder. "My hula hooping record is not a joke."
"You're a joke," Jason retorted.
Dick should have expected that one.
"I can record it for you, Dick."
"Thank you, Cass. Cass is a good sister," Dick said pointedly.
"Cass is a good everything," Tim said dryly. "You really shouldn't be comparing us to her."
Cass just smiled, laughing and shaking her head.
"How long is your record exactly, Grayson?"
Dick smiled and opened his mouth to answer – he couldn't believe Damian was actually interested! – but Tim cut him off.
"Wait, you actually care?"
"Obviously not. I just want to know how long we have to put up with this ridiculous activity."
Dick's face fell.
Of. Course.
"Now, now, children," Jason said. "We should support Dick; this is the only thing he's good at, so we shouldn't make fun of him for it."
"Grayson is more than adequate at plenty of things, Todd."
"Thank you, Damian," Dick said, smiling.
Damian nodded seriously. "While half of them are utterly pointless and hold no true value in real life, that doesn't mean he isn't good at them."
Jason threw his head back, guffawing. Tim snickered. Bruce rolled his eyes, very much unsympathetic. Cass patted his shoulder. Dick just smiled and shook his head – as backhanded as it was, a compliment from Damian was a compliment.
His grinned and turned to look at the others when they arrived at the site. "All right, let's go!"
"Ha ha, no," Jason replied.
"Yes. All three of you."
Dick wasn't the only one gaping at Bruce. He was, however, the only one smiling at him after he got over the shock. Dick had no idea why Bruce was making the others participate, but he didn't actually care.
"Great!" Dick exclaimed. "Come on, let's grab our hoops before they start the next round!"
Tim shook his head. "I feel like this is punishment for something."
Damian scoffed. "For you maybe, but I haven't done anything wrong."
"Keep telling yourself that," Tim retorted.
Damian glared. "Father has his reasons."
"Yeah," Jason agreed. "He hates himself and is taking it out on us by making us hula hoop."
Damian snarled silently at Jason, but Dick grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the hoops before things could escalate.
"Okay, let's get our hoops. Here you go, Dami."
Dick grabbed his hoop and handed one to Damian. Damian took it reluctantly, looking at him with pursed lips.
"What am I supposed to so with this?"
Dick blinked. Right. Damian didn't know how to hula hoop.
"Oh! I'll start, and you just copy me, okay? Jason, Tim, here."
They took the hula hoops he passed him with little enthusiasm, but he didn't stop grinning. He was totally going to show Steph.
"Cass, are you recording?"
She held up her phone and gave him a thumbs-up.
"All right, Dami, watch!"
Dick readied his hoop and waited for the signal from the judge timing the event.
"Ughh…" Jason groaned once Dick started hulaing.
Dick rolled his eyes and grinned. "Come on, Jaybird! It's fun."
"You keep saying the word 'fun', but you have no idea what it means."
Dick ignored him. "Want to give it a try, Dami?"
Damian did not want to give a try.
Neither did Tim, for that matter.
"Do you guys even know what participation is?" Dick asked wryly.
They ignored him.
Dick smiled at one of his competitors before turning to wave at Cass.
"This is so boring!"
Dick turned and shot a look at Jason. Jason ignored him, hefting his hula hoop repeatedly and shooting a thoughtful look at Tim.
That was a bad look.
Oh, and Dick was right.
"Hey, Tim, catch!"
Jason hurled the hoop at Tim, but he miscalculated – throwing a hula hoop wasn't like throwing a batarang, go figure – and ended up hitting Damian right in the face.
(This is going to end horribly.)
Dick exchanged a look with Tim before turning to Bruce and Cass.
Cass looked invested. Bruce looked like he was regretting forcing the others to participate, which was fair.
"Look, Damian-"
Damian didn't care what Jason had to say; he snarled before lifting his hoop and charging at Jason. Jason stepped backwards hastily, knocking over a middle-aged man who he had probably just caused to break his hip.
This was why Tim had been concerned about lawsuits. Dick understood that now.
"Sorry," Jason called out before stealing a 12-year old's hula hoop, ignoring the girl's protest and brandishing his weapon at Damian. "Damian. Be reasona- wait, who am I talking to?"
Their hoops clashed together. Jason grinned; Damian continued to snarl.
"You'll pay for that, Todd!"
"You're ridiculous, you know that?"
Other contestants were diving out of their way as their battle continued; the judges looked at a complete loss.
Dick was also kind of at a loss – or, he would have been, except these were his brothers and he was honestly not sure what else he had been expecting.
Tim looked comical, standing there in his 3-piece suit, barely five-feet from Jason and Damian's increasingly heated fight, holding a pink and orange striped hula hoop and staring up at the sky blankly, like he was mentally preparing to scold Superboy for taking so long to come save him.
Dick cracked a smile. He shouldn't be enjoying this because it was horrible, but it was actually pretty funny. People were getting knocked down, and half of them looked more terrified than annoyed… but it was pretty funny.
"Ow!" Jason cried when Damian landed a hit below his knee. "Okay, you know what – truce! All right! Truce!"
"Not in a million years, Todd. Accept your fate like man."
"No, no, no! Hear me out, okay?"
Damian was still in a fighting stance, but he had lowered his hoop slightly. "What? And talk quickly."
"I was aiming for Tim. How about... we go after Tim. Together."
Tim snapped back into reality with a jerk. "What."
But it was too late: appealing to Damian's eternal willingness to fight Tim was always foolproof.
Damian smirked, his anger falling away into the easy pleasure that characterized his actions whenever he was tormenting Tim.
"You have a deal, Todd."
Tim looked at them in disbelief. "No."
They ignored him and launched an attack coordinated enough that they could have been suited up.
Dick bit his lip as Tim worked to avoid their attacks, the three of them heedless of the surrounding crowd.
Bruce had his headache face on again, and Cass had stopped recording Dick to follow Jason, Damian, and Tim's exploits. Dick couldn't blame her. He kind of wanted to join in – he would, except he really needed to break his record.
"Fight back if you don't want to die, Drake," Damian taunted, swiping his hoop at Tim's neck only for Tim to drop gracefully to the ground as he dodged it.
"Yeah, Tim," Jason joined in, "your life is on the line here."
Tim looked severely unimpressed, even as he barely avoided getting clocked on the side of the head by Jason. "Really? You're going to kill me here. In front of dozens of people – hundreds, if you count everyone on campus."
"You think I don't know how to take care of witnesses?"
"He knows how to take care of witnesses, Tim."
Dick huffed. He really didn't think that was the argument that Damian should be making – like, at all – ever – but, on the other hand, it was nice to see Damian having fun.
Tim winced when Damian hit his shoulder, but just shot him an annoyed look. "You're both insane. I'm not doing this."
"Is it because you're in a pretentious suit surrounded by pretentious people? Because you're not above this, Timmers. You're really not," Jason said, grinning.
"You're not above anything, Drake."
Tim heaved a sigh, jumping over a swipe Damian made at his feet before smacking Jason clear across the face.
"Nice job, Timmy!"
"Shut up, Dick!" Jason shouted.
Dick beamed, he shouldn't be encouraging this, but also, he really should. Because this? This was harmless. And hilarious. And they were all having fun. And there were hula hoops!
He'd known it would be a good idea to come to this thing!
"Damian, I'll compensate you if you come to my side."
Jason gaped at Tim in shock. Damian was also gaping. Dick barked out a surprised laughed.
(Oh, that's great, Tim!)
"Hold up!" Jason protested. "You can't just whack me in the face and then try to steal my partner!"
Well, apparently, he could, because, after a brief and disturbingly ominous silent conversation between Tim and Damian, Damian smirked.
"Very well, Drake. You will be paying me as soon as we return to the Manor."
"Obviously."
Jason shook his head slowly. "E tu, Brute?"
"I got a better deal, Todd; it's your own fault for failing to compensate me appropriately."
"We were attacking Tim! How is that not appropriate compensation?"
"Some things are more important," Tim snarked.
"Only just, Drake. Only just."
The battle started again, more vicious than before, not that all of them were participating. And because Tim and Damian were unfairly terrifying on the rare occasions they decided to work together.
Dick glanced over at Cass with a smile, but frowned when he noticed Bruce wasn't standing with her. He looked over his shoulder, grinning wryly when he saw Bruce charming the judges and various participants who had been forced to the sidelines due to the fight. That was a good idea – maybe Tim wouldn't hound him about lawsuits after all.
Dick turned back to his brothers, still grinning, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Jason.
"Okay, you know, what? You guys are horrible. Here I am, an innocent citizen of Gotham-"
"I'm trying to decide if that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever said, but there are so many instances, it's hard to tell."
"I've given up on trying to classify his insanity, Drake. It's a lost cause."
"Oh, ha ha. You guys think you're so funny, but I know where you sleep."
"That sounds like something an innocent citizen of Gotham would say," Tim drawled sarcastically, aiming a particularly brutal strike at Jason's neck.
"I feel like you're both taking this too far," Jason muttered and he ducked out of the way and stumbled backwards to avoid the shot Damian aimed at his legs.
Dick kept hulaling – he was the only one competing at this point, but that was fine; he wasn't in it to win, he was in it for the record – but frowned slightly when he realized they were getting closer to him.
"Uh, do you guys maybe want go the other way? I mean, this is great and all – it's nice to see the three of you bonding – but I'm in the middle of something important."
They ignored him.
Typical.
Damian had a surprisingly lofty tone for someone who was trying to annihilate his older brother with a polka dotted hula hoop. "You shouldn't have started a fight you weren't willing to finish."
"It's a hula hoop fight!" Jason stated, entirely exasperated.
"A fight's a fight, Jay," Tim explained matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, are you channeling Damian right now? Is that what's going on here?"
They were getting really close – really close. Dick tried to edge out of the way, and he definitely would have made it if Jason hadn't tripped into him in his effort to escape Tim and Damian.
"Ow!" Dick cried, barely managing to catch himself before rolling out of Jason's way so he didn't get trapped under him. And how unfair was it that his little brother was bigger than him?
(Wait a minute.)
He was on the ground. His hula hoop was on the ground. He had stopped hulaing.
"NO!" Dick cried. "I was in the middle of breaking a record! I was so close; how could you?"
"It was in pursuit of the cause, Dick. We all have to make sacrifices," Tim drawled, holding his hoop casually like it wasn't some sort of weapon of mass destruction.
"Some things are more important, Grayson," Damian added solemnly, raising his hoop above his head. "Goodbye, Todd."
"What is my life?" Jason asked, staring up at the sky blankly from where he was sprawled on the ground.
Damian swung his hoop downwards with all the intent and gravitas of an executioner. Jason rolled out of the way at the last minute, only to be smacked in the face by Tim.
Jason came to a stop on his knees, clutching his face. "Seriously? What's wrong with you? That's the second time you've gotten me in the face!"
"Not like there's any reason I should avoid it."
"That's cold, Tim," Dick commented, getting back to his feet. "You know what else is cold? The fact that none of you care that you ruined my record!"
"Let it go," Jason muttered, standing up. "They don't have hearts. Food?"
Dick wanted to protest, but Tim and Damian were smirking and shaking hands in a disturbingly professional manner for two people who had just destroyed their older brother with hula hoops, so he really didn't have it in him to do anything but smile.
"Fine," Dick acquiesced. "We can get food, but Tim's paying for mine because you guys ruined my hula record."
"I don't remember agreeing to that," Tim said dryly.
Dick just grinned and walked forward, slinging an arm around Tim's shoulder. "You agreed in your heart."
"Didn't you hear? I don't have one."
Dick laughed, wrapping an arm around Cass as she walked over to where they were. "Jason's just upset you smacked him in the face."
"Twice!" Jason shouted.
"Grow up, Todd. You got what you deserved."
"Brat."
Dick grinned, winking at Bruce, who was staring at all of them, drastically unamused.
"Hey, you'll send me that video, right, Cass?"
"I'm sending everyone the video."
"Please don't," Tim asked.
"Too late."
Dick grinned. "Awesome."
Tim adjusted his jacket, shooting a half-hearted glare over his shoulder.
Jason was busy mocking Bruce and Damian, so he didn't notice.
"I can't believe Jason did that," Tim grumbled, straightening his tie. "A hula hoop fight, honestly."
Dick blinked. "Why is that hard to believe?"
Tim shot a look at Dick, who was smiling at him. Why was he so happy? How was that fair? It wasn't. In fact, Tim found Dick's good mood obnoxious.
"What are you gonna' tell Steph about your record?" Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Dick's smile dropped instantly.
Cass was shooting him a dry look, but Tim ignored it. He had just run around a grass field in a custom-made suit. There were wrinkles. He'd have to get his suit dry-cleaned.
No one should be happy.
"Drake, what did you say to Grayson?" Damian demanded, looking between them with a scowl.
"I just asked a question," Tim replied casually.
"Tim is spreading despair and pain because it's all he knows how to do. He learned it from Bruce," Jason said.
"Father did not-"
"Boys," Bruce interrupted, face slightly pinched as he looked at them.
He probably need a massage. Or a break from them.
Cass slipped from under Dick's arm and went to stand next to Bruce. "Take me to eat."
"That's what we're doing," Dick protested.
"Not here. The cafeteria."
"Elitist," Jason grumbled.
"I can't eat carnival food without Steph," Cass said with a shrug, tugging Bruce along with her.
He went with her easily enough; Tim couldn't fault him.
Except he could. Because it was fine for him to leave, but how could he leave Tim?
Tim took a step in Bruce and Cass's direction, but was immediately yanked backwards by an arm around his shoulder.
"Where do you think you're going, Babybird?"
Tim stared balefully at Jason. "With the other Elitists."
"Ha ha ha. No. You don't get to escape."
Tim sighed and wondered if this was payback- okay, it was definitely payback. Tim just wasn't sure what it was payback for; there were so many options.
Jason dragged him over to where Damian and Dick were already wandering through the food stalls.
"Okay, what were you thinking, Jaybird?"
"Deep-fried corndogs. And everything else, since we're here."
Damian's sneer was well-earned. For once. "You're disgusting, Todd."
"You can have cotton candy to satisfy your under-developed taste buds, brat."
Dick interrupted in his typical, timely fashion, which was a shame, because that sounded like it was going somewhere great. "Look! They have soft-pretzels! You've got to try those, Dami."
"No, I don't."
Tim shared a smirk with Jason.
Dick was full on pouting, which wasn't exactly a surprise. "But, Little D, you'll love it. I promise! Have I ever steered you wrong?"
"Low blow," Jason muttered, snickering.
And it was. Because Damian was staring at Dick with a pained expression, arms crossed, lips twisted, and 5 seconds from giving in.
"Fine," Damian muttered petulantly.
One would think that Tim got tired of being right, but that was not at all the case. Sure, he got a little bored by Damian's predictability, but that was another matter entirely.
Dick grinned. "Okay! So, pretzels and corndogs and definitely cotton candy – did you want anything, Timmy?"
"Freedom," he drawled.
"Something attainable," Dick corrected.
Tim cocked his head.
(Fair.)
"Coffee."
"You're going to die," Damian said plainly.
"Yeah," Tim agreed easily. "But coffee's not going to be what kills me."
"I don't think they sell coffee here. You're out of luck, Timmers."
Tim levelled a blank look at Jason. "I bet they sell coffee in the cafeteria."
"Blah, blah, blah. You talk like I care what you say," Jason responded, grinning.
"Todd makes a good point."
"No!" Jason protested. "You don't get to side with me after your unforgivable betrayal!"
"If you knew how to better incentivize-"
"Hurting Tim is the only incentive you need!"
Tim rolled his eyes. "Right. I'm going with Dick."
Dick smiled. "This means you're paying, right?"
Tim heaved a sigh. "I'm going to be paying for this for weeks."
"It doesn't take you that long to write a check, right?" Dick asked with a weak laugh.
Dick was completely ignoring the emotional trauma of having to write settlement checks. Tim hated settling. That sort of weakness could erode away at the infrastructure of their way of life.
Tim shuddered. "It's not about the money, Dick. It's not about the money."
Dick grimaced. "How about chocolate covered things? Everybody loves chocolate! And it has caffeine!"
"Fine," Tim conceded, lips pursed as Dick pulled him along through the rows of stalls.
"Okay, pretzels first, then something with chocolate." Dick stepped up to the pretzel stall with a glowing smile. "Oh, look! They have chocolate dip! Uh, can we get one of the plain soft pretzels with chocolate dip, one with salt and cheese sauce, and one with cinnamon sugar and icing"
"Are you allowed to have that much sugar?" Tim asked with a half-smile, pulling out his wallet.
"I am a full-fledged adult and I can have as much sugar as I want," he paused and gave Tim a wry smile. "As long as Alfred isn't watching."
"You set the best example."
"None of you ever copy me anyway; I'm not worried."
Tim shrugged as he handed the money to the vender. "That's sound logic."
"Don't sound so surprised!" Dick said, grinning as he reached for the food.
Well, Tim was using the word "food" loosely.
"This is so unhealthy."
"Weren't you just planning on getting coffee – and only coffee – for lunch?"
Tim rolled his eyes as they walked towards the seating area. "You say that like coffee is unhealthy."
Dick arched an eyebrow.
"Coffee has a number of health benefits," Tim pointed out, taking a seat at the first available bench.
"Not the way you drink it," Dick countered, setting the food down and sitting across from him.
"I'm a victim of my upbringing," Tim said with a shrug.
"Are you talking about the fact that you're an emotionless bastard?" Jason asked as he approached them.
"I'm talking about the fact that I got my coffee-habit from Bruce."
Jason snorted. "Even he doesn't drink as much as you do."
"We're supposed to surpass our parents," Tim countered deliberately, eyes shifting over to Damian.
His face was screwed up and his chest was puffed out; there was probably nothing about Tim's statement that didn't offend Damian.
Unfortunately, Tim's comment, purposefully crafted to elicit one of Damian's patented "blood son" speeches, supplemented by the ever-popular "no one can be as good as Father" speech – they were so much fun to pick apart – was wasted when Dick spoke.
"What happened to the cotton candy?"
Jason stared at Dick like he was an idiot before jerking a thumb at Damian, who was grumbling and crossing his arms. "Damian took exception."
Tim stared. "Why couldn't I have been there for that?"
"Because you're a traitor and you don't deserve nice things," Jason said firmly. "We can't sit here. There's no mustard here. There's ketchup and barbecue sauce and steak sauce – which, what the heck, where are they selling steak? – but there's no mustard. I can't have a deep-fried corn dog without mustard."
"What a shame," Damian drawled, sitting down next to Dick. "You can't have food callously named after a house pet."
Dick ruffled Damian's hair with a grin before turning to Jason. "I think the steak sauce is for burgers; they're selling those."
Tim rolled his eyes. Again. He was going to sprain something. "Wow, Jason. It's not like you can just take a bottle of mustard from another table."
"Wow, Tim. I'm sorry my first instinct isn't to steal and deprive other people of things."
"You stole a little girl's hula hoop!" Dick cried.
"Tires," Tim said plainly.
"Really, Todd? Really?"
Jason smirked as he walked over to the closest empty table and snagged the mustard. He walked back and dropped down onto the bench next to Tim.
"So," Tim began, "what exactly happened with the cotton candy?"
Jason's lips quirked as he shook the mustard bottle. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"Bring it."
"There's nothing to bring," Damian growled.
"Your perspective is irrelevant," Tim stated.
"Eat your pretzel, brat."
"Ignore them, Dami," Dick said with a sigh. "They won't stop no matter what you say."
"Look at that wisdom, Tim. Look at it."
"I'm so impressed," Tim drawled.
Damian glared, but Dick just shook his head.
"You really should try your pretzel, Dami."
"Exactly," Jason agreed. "Now, where was I?"
"Cotton candy," Tim reminded him.
"Excuse me!"
They all turned to look at the person who had spoken.
It was a kid, younger than Damian, and he looked supremely pissed off.
Whatever this was, it was going to be fantastic.
Tim pulled out his phone and discreetly began recording.
"Can we help you?" Dick asked, smiling and leaning forward.
The kid was surprisingly immune to Dick's charms. He pointed past Dick, glaring at Jason. "You stole the mustard!"
"Oh, my gosh," Tim intoned.
Jason shot a look at him that clearly said "this is your fault".
Tim cocked an eyebrow challengingly.
"HEY!" the kid demanded.
Jason turned back to him. "What?"
"Jason!" Dick cried incredulously.
"Give it back!"
"No!"
"If you don't give it back, you're going to go to jail; stealing is wrong!"
Jason slammed the table. "I'm not going to jail!"
The kid stomped his foot. "Jail! Jail! Jail!"
Tim had to give the kid props for accidentally hitting on Jason's insecurities and running with it.
"Jason," Dick began, a little desperately, "just give back the mustard!"
"I stole it fair and square!"
"JAIL!"
"Little Wing, please!"
Tim was honestly a little in disbelief – partly because this was happening, and partly because he had just shared a genuinely commiserating look with Damian.
"JAIL! JAIL! JAIL!"
"It was his idea!" Jason snapped, pointing at Tim.
Tim looked at Jason, torn between incredulity and amusement that Jason was selling his brother out. To a kid. Over mustard.
"JAIL! You're both going to jail! Batman's going to send you to jail!"
Dick looked somewhere between horrified and amused.
Damian was smirking, but, for once, Tim couldn't blame him. This was incredible.
Jason sneered. "Batman's not good enough to put me in jail."
The kid stomped his foot, glaring fiercely. "Yes, he is. You're both going to jail and you'll die there!"
"You know what?" Jason began.
"What?" The kid responded, purely combative.
"Jason! What are you doing!? I've been looking everywhere for you! I-" a woman walked up to their table, stopping in her tracks when she saw them. "Oh my- I'm so sorry. Has he been bothering you? Jason!"
"He stole the mustard, Ms. Wheeler!"
"Look, this kid just came up here and started hurling outrageous accusations-"
"He's a LIAR!"
"Jason Winston Gabriel! We do not call people liars and we do not accuse them of stealing!"
"But he-"
"No! Apologize right now. Now!"
Tim watched in a strange state of suspended glee as the younger Jason's face contorted into, quite honestly, the most disturbing expression Tim had ever seen.
"Sorry," he gritted out, sounding not at all apologetic, before stomping off without a backwards glance.
"Oh- Jason!" Ms. Wheeler turned to them. "I am… so sorry. So sorry. So, so sorry. Jason!"
The four of them watched as she ran after her charge. Tim was fairly sure the general mood was awe-struck. Even Damian looked captivated.
"Well," Tim said, turning his phone off and looking over at Jason before affecting a thoughtful tone. "Well."
"Shut up, Tim," Jason ordered, somewhere between a laugh and a glare.
"Why should he?" Damian asked loftily. "After all, your namesake-"
"He's not my namesake!"
Damian shot Jason a judgmental look.
Tim grinned at the exchange, offering a smirk at the bemused smile Dick shot at him.
"You know what?" Jason started. "Why don't you eat a corndog? Maybe you'll stop being a jerk."
And then Jason waved his corndog in Damian's face, baring his teeth mockingly.
Damian, predictably, took the provocation badly.
"Get that monstrosity out of my face, Todd!" he snarled, snatching the corndog from Jason with a harsh tug.
"Your hand is touching it! I can't eat that! Look at this!" Jason cried, turning to Tim and Dick for sympathy.
He should have known looking to Tim was a lost cause, honestly; Tim had turned his cellphone back on as soon as Jason had started harassing Damian.
Dick looked vaguely troubled, which Tim would admit was probably wise.
And here Tim was. Being right. Again.
Damian darted forward, leaning across the table to smash the corndog into Jason's chest.
Dick let out a strange sound that Tim didn't care enough about to decipher.
How could he devote any time to that when Damian had just started a food fight? With Jason?
Jason looked at the crumbs and grease stain on his shirt before looking at Damian, who had settled back into his seat with a triumphant grin.
Oh, did he think this was over? How naïve.
"Did you just stab me in the heart with my own corndog."
It wasn't a question, but Damian didn't really do tonal cues, so…
"Yes," he affirmed, viciously pleased.
Jason nodded slowly. And then he threw his second corndog straight between Damian's eyes.
The absolute shock on Damian's face would make anything that happened for the rest of the day worth it.
Dick let out a laugh before shaking his head furiously. "No. Nope! Okay, let's get you cleaned up, Damian. You want a napkin?" Dick grabbed a handful of napkins from the basket at the center of the table and proffered them to Damian urgently. "Here, you should wipe that off your fa- no! Damian, you're better than this!"
"Don't lie to him, Dick," Tim said, watching delightedly as Damian picked up his pretzel deliberately and brandished it at Jason.
Jason smirked.
Damian reached forward and smashed his pretzel against Jason's head so hard it broke apart. Damian sneered at his, now useless, weapon, apparently disappointed in a soft pretzel's unsuitability as an object to cause blunt force trauma.
While Damian despaired of his choice in weapon, Jason snatched the chocolate sauce Tim hadn't even started using and held it upside down over Damian's hair.
"Gah!" Damian exclaimed, intensely horrified by the cholate dripping its way down his face.
"Not the chocolate sauce!" Dick despaired.
Tim wasn't even mad that Jason had taken it from him without asking.
"That's what you get for-"
Jason's gloating was cut off when Damian smashed his cheese sauce against the bridge of Jason's nose, crushing the condiment cup.
"Oh, the cheese sauce!"
Tim gave Dick a curious look, but figured his oldest brother was choosing to focus on the loss of food to avoid losing his sanity. It was probably the healthiest coping mechanism any of them had ever employed.
Jason pursed his lips before stealing Tim's pretzel and whacking Damian in the face with it.
"I'd eat that, but I don't know where your face has been."
"I know exactly where your face has been," Damian retorted.
Jason cocked his head quizzically.
"He means you were dead. And your face was underground," Tim explained.
Jason shook his head. "I'm kind of worried that you can translate that."
"What else could he have meant, Jason? Damian's not exactly creative."
Damian ignored Tim's insult to look for more ammunition, which just meant that Tim had wasted his breath. Dick noticed Damian's intentions and clutched his food closer, shying away from Damian warily.
"Ha! That means I win," Jason declared with a grin.
Damian snarled wordlessly before snatching the mustard bottle up and squirting it at Jason.
Or, more accurately in Jason's direction.
Because, yes, Jason's face and most of his shirt did end up covered is mustard, but Damian's haphazard assault also made Tim a victim.
Tim doubted Damian was sorry.
"Oh! The mustard! No…" Dick looked horrified, but he was also laughing.
Jason's face was blank as he slowly wiped the mustard off of his face with his hands, smearing the excess off onto the table.
"Well played," he acknowledged before reaching for the ketchup.
"No!" Dick protested, leaning forward and sliding all 3 condiment bottles towards him. He grabbed the mustard from Damian and then hugged all four bottles – along with his pretzel and icing – to his chest. "I am not getting hit."
"You couldn't have done that sooner?" Tim griped, turning his phone off and grabbing a wad of napkins to wipe the mustard off of it and dab at the stains forming on his suit. He didn't even care about the mustard on his face.
"Buzzkill," Jason muttered, grabbing his own napkins and passing some to Damian, who took them with a smirk.
"I win."
"Shut up."
"This is never going to come out," Tim grumbled.
"Oh, so you don't know how to get mustard stains out? And here I was thinking you knew everything."
Tim glared at Jason. "I only know the useful things. Like how to get blood stains out."
Damian huffed amusedly.
Tim stared at him.
Damian stared back.
They shared disgusted looks before turning away from each other.
Tim couldn't believe he'd said something that had made Damian laugh; he was a disgrace. He didn't even deserve to get the stains out of his suit.
"You know, I think the real reason you two fight is because you're so alike," Dick said, nodding in agreement with himself.
"No one asked you," Tim muttered.
"You sound like an idiot, Grayson. Or worse: like Todd."'
"You know what?" Jason asked mock heatedly. "You're a sore winner and a horrible person."
"And here's Jason, everyone, saying things we already know," Tim commented idly, grabbing more napkins and glaring at Dick who was still as pristine as when they had arrived.
"Shut up, Tim."
"Is that all you know how to say?" Tim shot back.
"He has a limited vocabulary, Drake; you expect too much."
"I know more words than all of you!"
"Sit down, Jaybird, you're making a scene!"
They all turned to Dick, incredulous. He shrugged unrepentantly and began eating his pretzel.
"Does anyone else think this is really unfair?" Tim questioned.
"Yes," Jason agreed.
Damian snorted.
"What happened here?"
They all looked to the source of the question, only to find a wide-eyed Cass and a dead-eyed Bruce staring at them.
"Food fight," Dick explained plainly.
Tim shrugged. "It was less of a food fight and more Damian and Jason taking turns putting food on each other."
"Todd started it," Damian offered.
"Lies and slander."
Bruce sighed heavily.
Cass just grinned at them. "It's my turn to pick."
"Joy," Damian groused.
Tim grabbed the last of the napkins, looking down at his suit hopelessly.
(My thoughts exactly.)