hello fellow humans.
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Jason wasn't sure what, exactly, had happened in that library, but now Damian and Tim were free and clear while Jason had received a month long ban. He was fairly certain Damian and Tim had both used him as a sacrifice to appease the librarians. He wasn't sure how, exactly, that was fair, but he guessed that was sibling hood for you. Now they owed him money for the library fines.
It was terrible.
Jason had no idea why Dick enjoyed this stuff.
He also wasn't usually one for visiting the Manor, but whatever madness led to him agreeing to the harebrained scheme of Tim and Damian meant for the foreseeable future more often. Tea with Alfred acted as a convenient excuse to drop by the Manor, and it was even an enjoyable one. Bruce, Jason was pretty sure, hadn't suspected anything, because whatever the hell the three of them had going on - a truce? - was still so recent. Wisely, Bruce had no desire to go any where near it, either.
That didn't mean that Jason was keen on running into Bruce though and risking the big man finding out the three of them were digging into Dick's past. What it did mean was that Jason's timing had to be perfect to avoid running into Bruce, avoid arousing Bruce's suspicion, and still come around to help Tim and Damian.
Fortunately for himself, Jason was well-trained.
He arrived at the door to the impromptu research room that Damian and Tim had taken over, two coffee cups in both of his hands. He didn't bother knocking, instead opening the door and looking around the room. Somehow, since Tim and Damian had sent Jason to negotiate with the librarian, the two of them had acquired even more articles. Some of them, Jason noted, were internet articles or photocopies of newspaper articles.
In the center of it all was Tim, and Jason squinted his eyes as he looked at the younger boy.
Tim's got big dark circles under his eyes, of the sort that a raccoon would be jealous of, and Jason looks down briefly at the coffee in his hand. He considered the merits of not giving Tim coffee, feeling like maybe that'd be the responsible thing to do. People, especially teens, shouldn't have too much coffee, right? They needed sleep. Dick wouldn't want TIm to have the coffee. He'd been on a Tim Needs Less Coffee kick lately, much to Tim's dismay.
Jason looked back up at Tim, and then back down at the coffee again.
Ah, what the hell?
Jason didn't feel like risking depriving Tim of coffee. He'd already had to face down the librarian, and he'd likely have to do it again.
He placed the coffee near Tim, whose hand immediately crept over to blindly reach for the coffee until Jason pushed it into Tim's hand.
Jason rolled his eyes, saying, "What's up, dirt? Not gonna acknowledge me?"
"'Dirt?' Have you looked in a mirror lately?"
Jason admittedly hadn't looked in a mirror lately, but he was sure he looked fine. He huffed in annoyance.
"I am fantastic looking," Jason informed Tim, who only rolled his eyes.
Little shit.
"What have you got for us?" Tim asked as he popped the lid off the coffee and blew on it gently. "Did you talk to Ivy?"
"Ivy ran off with Harley Quin and they're having some quality girl bonding time dismantling the patriarchy," Jason told Tim and Damian.
"Oh," Tim frowned.
"Everyone else is terrified, but they're having the time of their lives."
"Good for them," Damian said firmly.
Personally, Jason agreed with Damian, but he didn't admit that aloud. Selina also said something about it being their honeymoon and gal pals, which Jason mostly understood, so he figured it was best for everyone if Ivy and Harley were best left on their road trip. Maybe they'd play ding dong ditch Lex Luthor.
Tim barely spared them a glance from where he was going through pop culture magazines, the sort that had little questions about dating games. When Jason tilted his head to read the title, he realized they were truly getting desperate. The one Tim held in his hands currently apparently ranked the "Wayne Boys" by appearance, and Tim wore a faint expression of distaste as he flipped through it.
Jason also made a face. Not only was "Wayne Boys" inaccurate, but it also sounded like the title of a bad boy band. He vowed to never ever let Steph or Barbara see this specific magazine.
Jason was not boy band material, and Roy could shut up now thank you very much, Jason absolutely did not sing in the shower.
Damian saw Jason looking at the magazine, and told Jason, "Grayson is ranked first."
Jason sighed. "Of course."
"I'm ranked above you," Tim said conversationally, not taking his eyes off of the magazine.
Now that was just rude.
"You're not good looking enough to be me," Jason scoffed. "You're still all . . . "
He gestured with his hands at all of Tim.
"I'll have you know I'm ranked the second hottest Wayne," Tim sniffed, then wondered how he got into this conversation.
Okay, Jason might be right, maybe it was time for sleep.
Tim eyed the coffee Jason brought.
Then again, maybe he just needed more caffeine.
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"C'mon, guys, let's get you in," Dick said, a yawn cracking his jaw.
Stumbling into the Batcave early enough for the sun to be rising wasn't his idea of a good time, but needs must. Joker had been unusually active, possibly because he was throwing a fit his favorite Bat wasn't in Gotham. With Bruce away on Justice League business, it'd been all hands on deck this time. They were lucky Jason happened to be out of town, too. Barbara and Steph had been able to help, but Cass was away, and Steph had been herded back to Barbara's apartment practically falling asleep on her feet. Dick couldn't really blame her, because he was exactly that tired himself.
Dick peeled off the gloves of his Nightwing uniform, tossing them in a heap by the conveniently located bench. He shrugged out of the top next to reveal the close fitting tank top he wore underneath, and groped around blindly for the dark blue hoodie he left hear earlier.
Nearby were Tim and Damian, also in the process of peeling off their combat boots and stifling yawns.
Tim grumbled, "if anyone else wants to be a vigilante, then they can deal with Joker at three in the morning."
The unspoken fuck that guy was heard loud and clear.
Dick snorted. "You know I once had a little old lady I walked across the street lecture me on my life choices?"
The new information made Tim blink as he tried to picture it.
"What," Damian said flatly.
Dick nodded seriously. "She was very intimidating. I think she'd make Joker a model citizen."
Both Tim and Damian looked seriously doubtful about this information, but it had the intended affect, lightening the mood and loosening the tension in their shoulders.
"Hey," Tim frowned, pulling on his red hoodie, "What was up tonight with Joker's meeting with some members of the League of Assassins?"
Damian stiffened.
Dick frowned, too. "You sure you saw them?"
He kept one eye on Damian, who had slowly started slinking towards the staircase.
"Yes," Tim said with certainty. "I got there before you."
He had, in fact, gotten there before either Dick or Damian, which was a testament to Tim's skill.
Dick held up his hands. "I believe you. For now, there's not much we can do besides wait. If you want, you could see if there's been any recent League activity near where Joker's been. Might be a connection there."
Tim curled his lip with distaste. "Thought Ra's would never want to deal with Joker again after Jason."
"Maybe something forced his hand."
That was about as likely as Joker becoming a model citizen, but when you were a vigilante surrounded by gods and metahumans, the impossible was your bread and butter.
"Hey, I'm gonna go find Damian. You good?" Dick asked.
Tim nodded and yawned. "Yeah, I'm good, go."
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Damian had gone straight for the roof.
Maybe he'd been spending too much time with Dick.
"Hey, Dami," Dick said. "What's up?"
For once, the nickname didn't make Damian turn around with a snarl. That, in itself, was a worrying break from routine.
Damian didn't say anything, but Dick had learned that sometimes silence was the best way to get Damian to talk. He wondered what was going through the boy's mind. It had to be about Tim's report about the League of Assassin members he'd seen on the call, speaking with Joker. Had Damian realized who they were from Tim's description?
Abruptly, Damian turned and asked, "Do you think my mother misses me?"
Dick's automatic response was on the tip of his tongue before he bit it.
He sighed deeply. "I think," he said slowly, "that she probably does."
He didn't doubt that in some twisted way Talia cared for Damian, maybe even loved him, but the way Damian was raised in his early years always made Dick so furious. They taught a child to kill and to be ruthless. Talia may love Damian, but love wasn't always enough. Maybe a part of her missed him, but maybe a part of her, the part that had drawn Bruce toward her, recognized that Damian was safer with them. He didn't think that Talia's love either could make what Damian went through justifiable.
Damian had been forced to grow up too fast, learned to be hard and cruel and no one had ever let him be soft.
Now? Now Damian was learning how to be a kid, and Dick would do everything in his power to let Damian be soft.
Those days when Bruce and Talia had an ongoing flirtation seemed like a fever dream, like they weren't quite real, and sometimes it made him want to tell his younger self to either hold on to it or to do something different. He'd never been able to predict that lengths Talia would go to, and the way Damian would be raised. Dick couldn't say anything about Ra's al Ghul, if he cared for Damian as his grandson or as anything more than a tool. Either way, Damian was gone from both Ra's and Talia. Sending Damian their way had perhaps been Talia's best decision regarding him.
He reached out a hand hesitantly and gripped Damian's shoulders, which seemed so tiny.
"Damian," Dick said softly, before he stopped when Damian prepared to pull away.
He thought carefully about what he was going to say, then said, "Sometimes the love people give us isn't the love we need, or love that we recognize."
Love was more than likely a stretch to say about what Talia felt for Damian, but he wasn't talking about just Talia now, and Damian knew that. He'd tell Talia to go to hell if she were here.
Damian sneered, but it was half-hearted. "Grayson, you were fighting at my age."
The boy said this slowly, like he was explaining something simple to a small child. Dick pulled away, and he crossed his arms.
"Only because Bruce knew I'd be out there anyway." He looked Damian in the eyes, and scoffed, "Believe me, he tried to stop me from being Robin. Even after he agreed, I had all these rules."
He widened his eyes and made a face for comedic effect.
Damian was skeptical. "I have," he wrinkled his nose,"restrictions, too."
If his facial expression wasn't enough, the distaste with which he said 'restrictions' told Dick exactly what he thought of them.
"They're a little different," he made a thoughtful noise, "Over the years, Bruce has adjusted some things."
"What?" Damian narrowed his eyes.
Bruce hadn't wanted Dick to become Robin. It'd taken a lot of pleading, and eventually the fact that he kept sneaking out clued Bruce in that he wasn't going to stop. Dick was going out there with Bruce or without Bruce. He sometimes wondered if Bruce ever regretted taking him on as Robin, and how the man had coped with his worry over what might happen.
Dick sighed. "We can come back to this." He said, a serious note in his voice, "Damian, you shouldn't have had to go through that."
He'd say that as many times as Damian needed to hear it. Someone had to.
"You went through training at that age," Damian hissed back.
Damian's rage and defensiveness didn't scare him away in the least.
"Damian," he explained gently, "I was born into a family of acrobats. I learned acrobatics with a net and a flock of family members watching me. It's a different form of training."
Other than assassin training, Dick didn't say, but both of them heard it all the same.
"C'mere," Dick opened his arms, gesturing for a hug.
For a few moments, Damian remained stubbornly apart before he moved closer, more quickly than was strictly necessary. Dick hugged Damian, and gradually, he relaxed, the tension bleeding out of him.
"It's okay," Dick told him, "to care for people, and to miss them."
He wondered, briefly, if someone, Bruce maybe, had thought to tell Damian that before. It wasn't a sin for Damian to miss parts of the only life he'd ever known, as much of a life as it had been.
Dick closed his eyes before he said, "For what it's worth, I'd miss you."
There was no verbal response, and he didn't expect one.
Instead, skinny arms carefully reached around to hug him tightly, and Damian's whole body shook silently. Whether it was from the cold or something else, Dick wasn't sure, but he let Damian have his privacy.
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"Hey, Donna," Dick said after a click when the call connected.
Wisely, he'd set the phone on speaker mode and put it in the counter. He preferred his eardrums intact, thank you very much. He wasn't sure what Donna's response would be, but he stood a safe distance away. As he waited for a response, he chopped cucumbers into little slices, the knife going snick snick with each slice. The little hellions needed a snack that wasn't cookie dough and some of them liked cucumbers, so cucumbers it was.
See, Alfred? He made sure they were eating healthy and everything. Someone should pay him babysitting money. At the very least grocery money.
". . . Is that all you've got?" said Donna, her voice tinny and far too calm.
He winced a little to himself, before looking at the cucumber in front of him and saying, "I'm remembering to eat all my veggies?"
Dick was pretty sure those were swear words in Ancient Greek, but he chose to ignore them. It was better to pick your battles sometimes. Best not to poke the bear too much.
"Babs mentioned you wanted to talk with me," he said.
"I can't talk right now," Donna said, "I'm in the middle of something."
Dick hummed. "I call you later, if that works. Or stop by the Tower." He hesitated, before adding, "Been meaning to talk to Beast Boy. Possibly Cyborg, too, if he's around."
Donna scoffed. "Oh, they're around. And they definitely want to see you."
"See, it's when you say things like that in a warm and threatening tone of voice which make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
He heard a loud laugh come from the phone, and Dick smiled to himself.
"I'll let them know you need to talk to them," Donna said. She sighed. "Are you alright, Dick?"
He put down the knife.
Dick gripped the edge of the counter, his head turned down. He thought about the question, and he knew the pause was long enough Donna would be worried, but then, she already was. It wasn't like she didn't have any reason not to be concerned.
"I'm hanging in there," he finally said.
There was a doubtful noise from the phone. He sighed.
Thousands of miles away and still on his case calling out all his bullshit. He never could catch a break.
"Seriously. I promise. It's been rough lately, but I'm - I'm doing okay. I'm speaking with Wally more," he added.
She hummed noncommittally when he mentioned Wally, and he could almost see her frown.
"Okay," Donna said, clearly reluctant to let the topic drop. "Just remember if you need to talk, I'm here. Let Wally know, too."
Dick smiled. "I know." Then, he said innocently, "should I tell Wally to drop by . . .?"
"Don't you dare."
"Talk to you later, Donna," Dick said cheerfully. "Love you!"
She begrudgingly answered the same, before the phone beeped, indicating the call had ended, and Dick shook his head.
Without looking up, he said, "You want some of these?"
"You're out of milk," Steph said. It came out more like yer ow off mill and she unrepentantly shoved another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
He had no idea when she'd gotten that. It must have been before he woke up and started the cucumbers, which would've been early. Or maybe she just never went to sleep, and that thought was a little scary.
He waved the hand holding the knife in a move Alfred would have frowned upon. "I'll buy more tonight. Please chew with your mouth closed. I think there's oranges and bananas somewhere."
She tossed him a thumbs up, then motioned towards the cucumbers, chewed, and swallowed.
"Do you have any to go containers?"
Dick nodded. "Yeah. Tell Babs I say hi, okay?"
Steph gave him a small smile, before it faded. "She's worried about you, you know?"
"Well," Dick countered, "I'm worried about you. You're going to be late."
Eyes widening, Steph checked the clock on the oven and cursed as she dashed out the kitchen, suddenly all frantic movement.
A shout of, "I am so not doing push ups today!" could be heard from the hallway, and Dick smiled a little.
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Weekends, Dick reflected, were the best.
Weekends meant time the could spend with the people he cared about. Weekends meant a large white wolf laying down next to him, practically on top of him. Wolf was still tense and watchful, but much more settled than he was initially. Something played on the TV softly - a documentary about the ocean? - but Dick wasn't paying much attention to it. He was trying not to fall asleep, but Wolf was a warm weight beside him, and there was something almost hypnotizing about the documentary's narrator.
He decided that the ability to narrate things evenly in a calming way must be a special requirement to narrate a documentary. There was something about it that just made him want to shut his eyes. He let his thoughts wander a bit, and his eyes strayed to Wally, who had recently been called out on a Justice League mission and only just got back, soaking wet from the pouring rain and more than a bit grumpy.
Out loud, he asked Wally, "So, what's it like calling the Leaguers by their first names?"
Wally paused from where he'd clearly been absorbed with something on his phone. He didn't bother to look up when he answered.
"It's a bit like, hmm," Wally furrowed his eyebrows. "Like that moment when an adult tells you to call them by their first name."
Okay, maybe he desereved a little of the sarcasm there. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer and all that jazz. He'd also been calling some of the Leaguers by their names for a few years now, but he imagined for Wally it had to be a little different constantly working with them.
Still.
He made a face. "Weird."
"No, really? I hadn't noticed that at all."
Now that was just unnecessary sarcasm. Dick rolled his eyes at Wally as Wally smirked at the phone screen, all proud of himself. He steadfastly pretended to ignore Wally and focus back in not the documentary, noting the way Wolf's head tilted to the side as he looked at the seals on screen.
Then Wally snickered as he read something amusing, and as much as Dick wanted to stay annoyed curiosity won.
"What're you laughing about?" Dick asked.
Wally shook his head, opened his mouth, and then shook his head again.
"Just," he said, "social media. Did you know about those posts about things only in Gotham?"
Dick blinked. "I think Babs has texted me some?"
She'd texted him some screenshots with a crying laughing emoji and then a little devil next to him. Something about an appreciation for his ass?
(Dick normally considered himself very well versed in text speak, but whatever that had been confused him. There had been a lot of emojis.)
He was aware that his ass was damn fine, thank you very much, but he wasn't sure what that had to do with being an only in Gotham thing. Wouldn't that be an only in Bludhaven thing? His ass has been in both Gotham and Bludhaven, and recently, it's been in both places fairly often.
Eh, it didn't matter.
Dick mentally shrugged at it. He was busy enough keeping up with the other Bats, the Titans, and Wally. Rapid changes in social media were low on his priority list, and besides, screwing up things deliberately to drive the rest of them nuts was one of his fun pastimes. He was pretty sure Cass knew exactly what he was doing, but she wasn't saying shit, so she was the one he texted normally.
Sometimes to drive Jason nuts he texted entirely in emojis. It was fun watching Jason's little text bubble dots appear and then disappear as he tried to figure out a response that wasn't immediately filled with rage.
"Anyways," Dick said, "what's this about?"
Wally stared at him, pity in his eyes, before he said, "You gotta get online more, dude."
Dick crossed his arms. "I'm plenty online," he grumbled.
"Sure."
This made Dick roll his eyes. Honestly, with friends like this, who needed villains? Wolf sighed heavily next to Dick, and in commiseration Dick buried his hands in Wolf's thick fur. It looked much better than it had before, and as a bonus, petting Wolf meant his hands didn't get as dirty. It did mean Wolf's fur got everywhere, including all over his clothes, and Titus had a habit of constantly sniffing Dick whenever the came over now.
A thought struck him, and Dick almost jolted upright as he remembered.
"Hey, you have a dog, right?"
He made Wolf jump, irritated at having his focus broken away from the documentary, and Wally startled too, almost launching his phone into the air.
"What?" Wally blinked. "No."
"Shit."
That . . . that wasn't good.
He'd told Damian Wally had a dog, didn't he?
"Why shit," Wally asked flatly, and then narrowed his eyes. "Dick. Why shit."
Dick frowned in thought, before he turned to Wally.
"Uh," he said. "I told Damian you had a dog."
Wally's dog Nelson had become his go-to excuse whenever Titus sniffed him. it turned out he'd been using a Swiss cheese excuse on a very intelligent person. Dick supposed he was lucky Damian hadn't called him on it. There was one possible solution to the situation, and Wally must've seen the realization in Dick's face, because the speedster narrowed his eyes.
"But I don't have a dog," Wally whispered. "Not that I don't want one, but like, I don't have one!"
"I know!"
"You told him I do!"
"What am I supposed to do now!"
"I don't know! Tell him my dog ran away?!"
"What?" Dick threw his hands up in the air. "No!"
Then they'd have another issue on their hands where Damian tried to physically fight Wally, and knowing Damian and the sheer force of his rage in a pint-sized body, it wouldn't be pretty.
He was still shaking his head at the idea, and Wally very much looked like he wanted to hit Dick with one of the pillows on the couch. So Dick held up his hands defensively as Wolf watched all of this, thoroughly entertained.
"Alright, alright," Dick said. "Let me think."
There was one possible solution, he realized.
One solution that was the easiest, and that was to make the fictional dog a reality.
"Dick . . . No. Absolutely not. Dick!"
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so. i have had a bit of a wacky week. my philosophy midterm came for me, and i have been super busy with two jobs on top of school.
also, possible trigger mention skip this sentence if you don't want to read: but i was uncomfortably close to a shooting that happened. I'm okay, everyone i know is okay, but it was not fun so i needed to write to get that off my mind. My roommate's also being super weird right now and it's draining.
hope you guys are doing good.
feel free to come haunt me on Tumblr, but im not all that interesting.