It was a Wednesday night unlike most he had experienced recently.
Steph was busy with cheerleading practice, getting ready for a big game that was supposed to mean a lot to the whole school- he'd already set the date aside in his calendar to be able to go. Tim and Cass had been called in by the Bat to aid in a search for a particularly slippery supervillain, and they'd probably be busy for the rest of the week with that mission.
For the first time in around a month, Greg was certain that there would be no kids coming over to visit for a good handful of days. It was the first time he'd get a proper break from continuous appearances ever since Steph had weaseled her way into his civilian life.
It would have been great to have taken advantage of this lull in the kids' presence, but Bruce was currently busy not just with the case that Tim and Cass were working on, but also some big movements within Wayne Enterprises that would, if everything worked well, eventually mean that Bruce Wayne would be able to offer more philanthropic help to the Justice League.
Greg did half a mind of messaging one of the Soldiers, just to see what they were up to and if he might be able to fit into any of those plans, but decided to keep that option in his back pocket for now. He had never been one to need constant social interaction and it had been quite some time since he had been given the liberty to be by himself for multiple days.
He finished making his dinner for the night and found himself feeling bittersweet about the fact that he had needed to make such a small amount of food. It had become a custom to make enough for leftovers, at the very least, because even if a kid didn't appear one day, there was no certainty that would be repeated on the next.
A simple plate of chicken quesadillas looked back at him, plain and somewhat lonely looking.
The feeling made Greg smile softly, then shake his head at himself. He moved over to the living room to set up a movie while he ate, all the while chiding himself, ever so gently, over having become so attached to the kids so quickly.
There was nothing wrong with growing to care about people, he'd learned the hard way. It only became difficult when you suddenly had to leave them. He loved hard and deep, forming bonds he considered to be meaningful to just about anyone he deemed worthy of it.
That had always been the reason why leaving people behind had hurt. He legitimately cared about those people he surrounded himself with- he learned everything they offered for him to learn about, wanted to see them succeed, wanted to see them be the best people they could possibly be within their lives. Hell, if he could help, he wanted to be there to make them better too.
In the past, when he had first started forming bonds with the rest of the Seven Soldiers, he had been wary to form such bonds. He had known impermanence his whole life, beginning with the death of his youngest brother to whooping cough before he had even managed to learn to talk. It had been an ugly disease, marking him in such a profound way that, quite frankly, his earliest memories were of watching the little creature struggling to even breathe.
Still, he had fond memories of his time with his family, even with the way that his siblings all eventually forged their paths away from their small town, even with the way that his extended family either died off, walked away, or had never even been around. Friends had been few back then, but the few he had managed to make had been important.
Then he began to go about making his own life, in the big city, away from his family, and eventually managed to stumble onto the same case as Travis and Wing. They'd worked together well enough and, after a few other encounters, eventually agreed to establish a more direct communication to offer one another aid.
They'd been there to witness Greg struggling to get a young Stuff to accept that he wasn't another person that was going to take advantage of him. Travis had helped out, seeing how he had experienced a similar thing with Wing only a few years before. They'd grown closer then, Greg getting to see Travis as an honorable man that, even if he didn't have a need to help out, still did.
Funny enough, Morgan Le Fay had been the reason why he'd met Sir Justin, Pat, and Sylvester. They'd met while working the same case, just from a different angle, and eventually they'd all found each other.
At first, they had all been distant friends- the kind of people he could work well with but not the kind of people to get to know his real name; real self. Eventually, they started working together more and more often; relying on each other much more to bring some justice into the world. Eventually, Oliver had appeared within their ranks and their lives had begun to bleed together so much they just decided to drop pretenses- they became a group at the same time they became a real group of friends.
And then, Bugsy had happened.
They had tried to be there for him. He hadn't let them.
And then, Nebula Man had happened. And Greg had thought he'd lost out on any chance to reach back out to them and show how grateful he had been to have them in his life.
With a sigh, Greg pulled himself out of those memories and moved to grab at the control of the console. He placed the plate on the couch and went about turning on the contraption and putting on one of Cass' movie recommendations.
Those memories were always painful to dig up.
"You're gettin' old, Gregory." he murmured to himself with a quick shake of his head. "Reminiscin' an' belly-achin'. If'n you don't watch out, you'll be gossipin' balderdash in a knittin' circle." just like his mom had liked to do, back when she had had the luxury.
He searched up the name of the movie and made to put it on.
But he was interrupted when he heard a loud thud coming from his room, faint enough to make him think it had come from the balcony attached.
Immediately, he shot up. He grabbed the gun he had hidden away within the long drawer beneath the television, then made his way towards his room. He sneaked about, keeping his footfalls light, and managed to open the room without any issues. He found nothing amiss within, but did see a silhouette outside of the windowed door that wasn't a regular part of his balcony's decoration.
He could see a sharp edge that seemed like a shoulder that tapered into what looked like a human's body. The fabric around the body was loose at the top, but tight lower- was that a hip?
With the gun still in his hand, he opened the door up.
And he couldn't help the long sigh he let out.
"Not Bruce. No one else from his cult either."
"You're makin' this real difficult, son."
Jason frowned at the term, but focused on keeping his hand pressed against his seeping wound with the towel Greg had given him. He winced at the way nerves fired off with pain as he shifted to get more comfortable, but soon instructed, "You've gotta have instruments in here. Just get me something- I can sew this shut myself."
Greg had propped him up against a wall on the inside of his apartment- he'd been dragged across a whole-ass bedroom before he'd been allowed to rest. There were a few plastic bags laid out all around him, undoubtedly thrown about to make sure he didn't get any blood on the carpeted floor.
All of the lights here were turned on, so it was very easy to see the frown of frustration that came over Greg. Jason watched on as the man let out a huff of such frustration, then shook his head. "Can't. Ain't got nothin' here."
"What?"
He wasn't sure if it was the incoming shock from blood loss or the absurdity of such stupidity, but Jason was legitimately surprised to hear that. Wasn't this Bruce's boyfriend? Why wouldn't he have access to medical equipment? That was just stupid!
"Only got a simple first-aid kit; good enough for common accidents." he fished out his phone from his pocket as he said, tapping at it with almost clumsy hands. "I got an old friend that lives nearby- maybe he can come over."
Jason's displeasure at Greg's lack of proper preparation was not greater than his displeasure of Bruce ever catching wind of this- so he asked, "Not part of the-"
"No sir." the cowboy raised his phone to his ear then, "Part of an old group of friend o' mine. They don't really know your father."
Normally, he would bristle at anyone calling Bruce his father. But his fingers were beginning to get cold and Jason decided it would be in his best interest to keep a lid on his emotions and focus on the issues at hand rather than the issues they'd never work through.
Greg spoke quickly and tersely into the phone, giving a vague but informative enough rundown of the issue, as he moved closer to Jason. When the man pressed his left hand over Jason's, adding further pressure onto his wound, Jason hissed. Greg didn't acknowledge him, focus on the injury and getting whoever was on the other side of the phone call to move fast.
Not more than a handful of minutes later, the bright lights that came with the Watchtower's teleportation technology lit up the apartment. Jason cringed at it, closing his eyes, and then became alarmed when he noticed that the words the men exchanged sounded muffled to his ears.
There was a pause in which the man that had come in took in the scene before him, a quizzical look on his face. Then, as if something within him snapped, he rushed forward and began to give curt but hurried instructions for Greg to follow.
Jason hissed and snapped at every single jolt he was subjected to as the men worked, eventually asking why the fuck they hadn't put him under yet.
This guy, whose name he still did not know, actually had the gall to offer him a toothy smile, even as his gloved hands were covered up to the elbow in his blood, "I'm not an anesthesiologist." and Jason only had a fraction of a second to understand the answer before the needle was pushed through his skin once again.
"I really did think you spun a tale to get me here, ace." Travis finished washing his hands in the bathroom sink.
Greg huffed, insulted, but continued to keep an eye on Jason.
The young man had eventually managed to fall asleep- or unconscious, really- as Travis had worked on him. They had moved him after Travis had finished working and he was properly bandaged up, so now he was dozing on the sofa.
Greg's quesadillas rested on the dining room table, untouched.
He wasn't hungry, though, not anymore.
"One of those rookies Court's been raving about?" Greg didn't really startle when Travis walked past him, accustomed to the way the man just about ghosted through existence.
"Yup." he breathed out and didn't really argue when Travis sat down at the table, pulled the plate towards himself, and began to eat at what had once been his meal.
Travis was the oldest friend he had- both in reference to how long they'd known each other and their ages. The man was a semi-retired college professor at this point, well up in his years, and so, a semi-retired superhero as well. Because of this, he knew Greg- sometimes, it was even eerie how much the other man seemed to understand him.
Once he finished his first bite, Travis stated, "You know I'm waiting for you to elaborate. There's no need for you to stay as shut up as a clam about this."
Habits were hard to break, no matter how good or bad they were.
Breathing in, Greg moved over to the kitchen. He began to go about the motions of preparing coffee for the both of them and Travis kept on eating, waiting in that ever-patient patience that unnerved him.
Once the coffee was being brewed within the media, he turned to the older man. "Cape name's Red Hood. There're... extenuating circumstances 'bout his relationship to me. But, well..." he raised a hand up to his chin, rubbed at it, and forced himself to continue speaking. "He's a kid that matters to me. "
Travis' face had more wrinkles to it than the last time they had seen each other face to face. Granted, that had been around a year ago, to celebrate the anniversary of the day the remaining Soldiers had reunited. A bittersweet occasion, that had been... but an all around happy one, in all.
With a small nod, Travis continued to wait.
Greg had always hated this. Giving away information that was prized to him had never been easy. When people asked about it, it became easier. But being tight-lipped was a way of life to him. Travis knew this; and wanted to help him work his way out of the bad habit. Not because he found it tedious or annoying to have to ask questions. No, he wanted it to change because he understood Greg's psychology.
For a few seconds, he found himself shifting from one foot onto the other- he felt like a child getting scolded, even though he hadn't done anything wrong.
He moved towards the refrigerator before just about pleading, "Can you wait for Poker Night for me to explain them circumstances? Think it'd be best to tell y'all at once rather than havin' ta go person by person." there was also the small fact that he needed the go-ahead from Bruce to tell the closest thing he had to a family of his own about their relationship, considering the complications that may occur, so it'd be best to wait for later on.
"You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about." the other man reassured, and Greg knew that... but it was still hard to just chat about himself. "I think I've heard Red Hood's name before. One of the Bats, right?"
"Yessir." he pulled out the milk and moved to serve it into two mugs, "Still like prefer it black?"
"Half and half. I shouldn't be drinking too much caffeine this late." he answered as jovially as his deadpan tone could get, followed up by the question, "Poker Night is still going to happen on the 30th, right? Michael messaged me, but that boy teeters on the edge of being a yuck on his worst days."
Lee Walter Travis was the kind of man Greg had always aspired to be; in a way, he felt he had accomplished such a feat; in many others, though, he knew he had failed.
He placed both mugs in the microwave to start heating them up, then turned once more to face Travis. "That's the date. Still gonna make that lasagna?"
After a hum and a nod, Travis mentioned, "I still don't understand why you keep asking me to make one. You've perfected the recipe."
"Never." a small, shy smile began to play at the edges of his lips. He began to shed the feeling of having done something wrong, slowly falling back into the comfortable haze that Travis was always able to craft by just being a reassuring presence. "This student hasn't yet surpassed the teacher." then, he quickly added, "I'll be makin' them chocolate cookie dough brownies Court likes, though."
Travis' face pulled into a mock look of disgust, then he stood up to move towards the kitchen. He walked past Greg, ignoring when he tried to take the plate away, and got to work on washing the plate.
The microwave dinged, Greg served the rest of the coffees, and fished the sugar out of the fridge so they could each sweeten their respective drinks. Travis' face looked like he was contemplating something as he moved, eventually speaking up as Greg moved over to the table to sit down.
"Think you can make a batch of regular cookies? I don't think my heart can handle that much sugar but I'll be damned if I can't have something sweet you've made."
Travis sat opposite him and offered a toothy, conspiratorial smile, and Greg smiled back.
Greg was too nice.
Jason didn't trust him.
There traces of the three brats that had pledged to no longer attempt to spy on him all throughout his apartment, including a gaming console he knew Tim had once owned and caused a number of arguments between him and Steph.
"The pancakes'll be ready in a bit. Done changin' your bandages?"
His whole body ached. The stitches all around his abdomen pulled taught whenever he moved to any degree, making fire shoot up everywhere. There was no doubt that he had twisted his ankle when he'd missed the landing on Greg's balcony- and he was kind of annoyed at that because he had almost succeeded. The bruises all over his face were undoubtedly bright and angry.
And yet, in this pitying state, Greg hadn't pushed to force Jason to let him help. He'd just offered to help if Jason wanted it.
He was playing at something.
"Yeah." he clenched his jaw as he finished tightening the knot on the wrap around his torso, breathed out and allowed himself to sink back into the couch.
At least the cushions were soft. And he hadn't bled into them.
Whoever that other guy had been, he did good work.
"Where are the rest of the brats, anyway? Thought they were always in here."
"Oh, they are, generally." the suspicious cowboy answered with a small smile dancing on his lips; Jason found himself scrutinizing it to figure out if it was genuine or not. "But they're all busy fer now. Think Steph's s'pposed to pop up 'round the weekend at some point, but not fer long."
Jason nodded at this information before focusing on the game he was playing. Greg went back to his work, strumming sporadically at his guitar every now and again.
He was playing an angle, Jason knew.
There was no way someone that loved The Bat wasn't playing one, after all. He had yet to ask why Jason had collapsed on his balcony, but it was only a matter of time before he'd spring the trap, he knew. There was no way he wouldn't.
"Damn, this ain't easy."
Jason was about to start slamming his head into the wall to get it to start working again.
Why did everything this guy do seem so genuine?
"You make it look natural, son." but even though he was getting his ass handed to him in the video game, Greg kept on clacking away at the controls with graceless fingers.
Jason had thought him brusque and awkward from the way he handled different handheld items. It wouldn't have been much of a stretch- a marksman like the Vigilante didn't need to be good with anything other than his guns, after all. But he'd witnessed the absolute ease with which the man plucked at his guitar strings, strong yet gentle, and he didn't like what he had witnessed.
How could one blunder with something as easy as using a phone or playing with a video game control and yet have fingers that danced about with ease over something as difficult as a guitar?
"Still want somethin' Asian for dinner?"
"Yup."
"Alright." he set the controller down between them, standing up from the couch. "I'll get to work then. Good luck playin' online."
Jason wasn't bothered by the words. He was bothered by the tone. The guy was jovial and genuine with what he was saying. And when he walked off to the kitchen, he did so while he whistle a jaunty tune.
He had no idea what the rest of the brats saw in him. This perpetual good mood he seemed to be in... it was very much uncanny valley reminiscent.
The next time he fell onto Greg's balcony with an injury he needed to be treated, he did stick the landing.
He had known that the replacement wasn't going to be in the apartment, supposedly busy on a study date of some kind with a group of students from his class. Cass and Steph had been called in by Bruce to work on some kind of case. So he had known that there would be no one there to witness him.
This time, Greg didn't have to haul him through his apartment- he was able to walk himself to the dining room table.
Quite frankly, the bullets embedded into his arm wouldn't have been hard for him to take out, just annoying. But his nearest safehouse had been ten minutes farther than Greg's apartment. So he'd decided to just take the easy route for once in his life and drop in.
Greg had taken one look at him and pulled out his phone.
Lee Walter Travis was the name of the doctor that had patched him up. An old friend, Greg had mentioned. Old indeed.
This time around, the mood in the apartment had been a lot less intense as Lee had worked on him. These wounds hadn't been life-threatening, after all, and Jason had been conscious enough to snip at him over how harshly he was moving. Lee had bitten back conversationally, seeming to not be bothered at all by his snarky remarks.
After everything had been said and done, Greg had made coffee for him and Travis but Jason turned him down. Instead, he had taken a simple glass of water.
The two had chatted about names he barely recognized, mentioned some kind of gathering on the 30th, and then asked Jason what he had been up to to wind up in such a state. He'd answered simply and vaguely, then waited for the eventual digging into his life... that had not come.
While Lee had looked at him with unimpressed black eyes, Greg had moved the conversation onto asking about the crook he'd been hunting down- if he was worth all this trouble or had just managed to get lucky in wounding him.
Jason had answered dumbly, admittedly taken aback by the lack of a grilling session.
This time around, he was able to sleep in the guest room... and was very not happy to find one of Steph's obnoxious plush toys on the bed.
Lee Walter Travis was the Crimson Avenger. There was no doubt about it. The facial structure shared between both figures was uncanny- and their connection to Greg in either person was not something that could be looked over.
Jason dug into the Avenger's Justice League file, finding that he had ties to a group dubbed The Seven Soldiers of Victory that had a very muddy and uncertain description to them. There was mention of time travel, sure, but when he looked up each member in reference to history, he found absolutely nothing. All he could find was that they existed in the present. Nothing about the past.
Aside from recent events, the League had seemed to be purposefully vague on what had happened in reference to time travel. And when he had tried to dig further, he'd found that the more complete files were under a heavier lock than the rest- he'd have to force his way in.
The Vigilante was part of this subgroup of the League.
Making a conscious decision to not yet raze everything in order to get more answers, he began to instead connect names he had heard from the older men to faces on the League's profiles.
Bruce knew that he was looking in on this- he'd used his pass-codes for a reason.
He was bothered by the fact that Bruce had not yet scolded him over his snooping.
~Golden Wind: _Golden Glocks _Golden Dick Please tell me one of you can come down to my school right now~
~Golden Wind: I need an adult~
~Golden Glocks: Can't. Don't legally exist.~
~Golden Dick: I'm stuck in Blüdhaven. What's wrong?~
~Golden Wind: They're saying I cheated on a test.~
~Golden Wind: The Dean's threatening a lot~
~Golden Wind: What do I DO?~
~Golden Dick: Calm down, first of all. Did you cheat?~
~Golden Wind: NEVER~
~Golden Wind: They're saying I'm too dumb to have gotten a perfect score~
~Golden Glocks: WHAT?~
~Goldilocks: Tht's fcked up~
~Golden Dick: Duke, don't worry. You didn't. You'll be fine~
~Golden Wind: The teacher's saying I've been nothing but a problem the whole semester~
~Golden Wind: There talking supension. Maybe EXPULSION~
~Golden Wind: Think Im gnna start crying~
~Golden Dick: Have you called Bruce?~
~GoldHeart: He's in an airplane~
~Golden Glocks: Al?~
~GoldHeart: Knee deep in the garden prbbly. And the Manor's an hour away at the least~
~GoldHeart: Duke call Greg. He works some twenty minutes away from school. If he doesnt answer Il go down~
~Golden Wind: Can Greg even help?~
~Golden Dick: Bruce was supposed to have included him into all your files. Trust Tim~
~Goldfinger: Trust Greg.~
He had never been in a school this big ever in his life. He'd allowed himself to marvel at the vast, almost gothic-like decorations and the tidiness of the place for only a second; then moved like a man on a mission.
He was on a mission, after all.
Duke's call had been sudden, unexpected, and heartbreaking. The boy had sounded on the verge of tears as he'd asked if he could come and help him out with the issue he had landed in with the school.
Monty hadn't been happy and he'd had to make promises he wasn't particularly happy with about trying to get Mari McCabe to contemplate starring on the video for All I Can Promise is Memories, but that was nothing compared to what he would have been willing to do. If they'd threaten with dropping him, he would have left without a hesitation.
When he had reached the Dean of Discipline's office, he'd found Duke sitting all alone on the outside. His knuckles were pale form how tightly he'd been gripping at his phone and his face was pulled into a grim and forlorn look that had no right to be on someone so young.
"Duke, I'm here." he was somewhat breathless, but the rush through traffic and the minutes of absolute stress had been worth it just to get to look at the face of sudden hope that Duke's morphed into.
"Thank God." the boy whispered, standing up to rush over to him. "Greg, I didn't cheat. I swear I didn't."
His eyes were wide, rimmed with red, and Greg's heart clenched. He raised his hands up to rest on both of his shoulders, offering a steadying smile, "I believe you. No need to worry 'bout me."
The boy was near tears, humiliated, terrified, and so very much worried that people wouldn't believe him. He had no idea why this worry, though. From what he'd heard and what little he'd seen, Duke had a good head on his shoulders. Of Bruce's kids, he'd be the last he'd expect to try and cheat on a test. Tim was the only other one- the rest were unabashed wild cards.
"Does the Dean wanna talk to me alone?"
Duke nodded, Greg squeezed his shoulders once more, and nodded at him. "Give me quick version of your story, son. I'm gonna need it."
And Duke delivered on quick, rushing past a story that would have taken some five minutes within just one. He nodded, took in the information as best he could, and steeled himself for what he hoped wouldn't be a difficult confrontation.
He highly doubted that, though, considering the way that Duke seemed to have a history of getting targeted by this supposed dean of discipline.
It had been an agonizing ten minutes before he heard another person speak again.
In the meantime, he was texting Tim, who kept reassuring him that everything would be fine and the truth would clear him. There was a bitter voice in the back of his head that was angry about the fact that Tim wasn't getting in trouble for texting in class, even though he had been written up for it a month ago. But he chose to ignore that because it hadn't been Tim's fault that his teachers were nicer.
As he sent Steph a message of gratitude for the Jojo memes to keep him distracted, he heard the door to the Dean's office opening. He glanced up just in time to hear Greg hiss, "Ma'am, I don't know if you're being racist, classist, or just a mean-hearted monster, but this ends now. Bruce an' I'll be settin' up a parent-teacher meetin' with all o' Duke's teachers. Then we'll speak 'bout what he wants. An' I'll make you a promise right now, if this boy wants to stay in this school, it'll be you that'll be regrettin' ever insultin' 'im."
Duke had heard a lot of good things about Greg ever since Tim, Steph, and Cass had deemed him someone worth gushing about. He'd been subjected to rough recordings of him attempting to write songs that Steph took without his knowledge, just like he had listened to the one single he had officially released because Cass had put it on repeat when it first came out.
He had always sounded like he had a warm, syrupy voice. Kind, really, in a way that had reminded Duke a little of his own father's, just less deep.
Now, though, that voice was arctic.
"Mr. Saunders, it is not respectful of you-" Dean Winchester followed after him, looking as condescending as ever.
"No." he turned around sharply, facing the much shorter woman. "What ain't respectful is you insinuatin' that my boy oughtta leave this school fer issues you've stirred up. 'is sleepin' in class is yer fault's fer not payin' attention to science, 'is absences're always excused, an' now you're blamin' 'im with cheatin' even though he's consistently proved ta be brilliant in the sciences." taking advantage of her stunned silence, he turned to Duke, eyes flashing to become warm once more when he finally registered the look of pure shock on his face. "Let's go, son."
Duke was stunned and silent as Greg moved forward. So stunned had he been by what he had heard- the passion with which Greg had defended him- that he hadn't felt capable of moving. He only really began to move when Greg placed a gentle hand over his shoulder, softly pushing him down the hall.
Behind them, the dean called for them to come back and have a civil discussion.
"I'll call Bruce tonight an' see what we can work out for your schoolin'." Greg spoke firmly, but gently, a clear shift from how cold he had been previously. "I wasn't playin' 'round, though. I nailed her to the counter, y'know- your science teacher only thought you'd cheated after she stuck her beak where it had not business." he huffed, "Does she speak to you kids that way? Felt like the damn hoosegow, not a school."
Duke felt dizzy.
Not ten minutes ago, he was sure that he was going to get suspended or even expelled for having committed a crime that he hadn't. Now, though, he had Greg pushing him down the halls of his school asking if he'd want to stop by an ice cream place before he returned him to Wayne Manor- text a friend of yours to catch on today's work, but don't stress 'bout school.
Dumbly, he agreed to his plans.
Eventually, when Greg left him alone to order ice cream for them both, he pulled his phone out and informed the rest that Greg had come down to help. Immediately, the questions of 'what happened' flowed in. But Duke was still too dazed to properly register what had happened.
One of his teacher's main complaints was that he kept falling asleep in class, but that generally only happened in the first two periods of class because he had not yet managed to free himself of how exhausted he felt in the mornings, so he wasn't surprised that they had spoken about that. But he hadn't thought the absences were an issue, he always had a doctor's note to excuse him and had never slacked on homework.
~Golden Wind: He's...~
~GoldHeart: Caring?~
~Goldfinger: Badass~
~Goldilocks: Absltly AWESOME?!~
Duke found himself unable to think of a proper word to describe what he was feeling. So he instead just let them know that Greg had believed him immediately and was now on a warpath against the Dean.
~Golden Glocks: Huh.~
~Golden Dick: So everything worked out?~
~Goldilocks: Srsly, /3333333 him~
When Tim and Cass went do Greg's apartment after the whole Duke situation, Jason dropped by. He didn't tell them anything as he muscled his way in through the door Cass opened. Instead, he just walked into the guest room, deposited the backpack filled with supplies into the closet, and told them that they couldn't touch it.
He didn't bother with telling them to not tell Greg about it, because it's not like he actually believed they would keep a secret from a man they just about idolized now.
He still didn't trust Greg. He still believed that the cowboy was too perfect.
But he was starting to believe that his imperfection didn't lie within a faked personality. Slowly, he was coming around to the idea that the care he was showing for the rest of the brats- himself included, admittedly- was real. No, now he was starting to believe that the imperfection had to do with the time travel mention he had yet to understand about the Seven Soldiers.
The rest of the brats were useless in getting any answers- the few that actually knew the man actually respected his boundaries while the only one left willing to dig was Dick and he still wasn't going to interact with him unless 100% necessary. But it wasn't like this bothered him too much. He was accustomed to working alone by now.
"Jason," Tim spoke up in a warning tone as he came out of the room without a bag.
"What? Can't I leave some supplies like you?"
Cass stared him down but he just moved into the kitchen to grab some water.
The two didn't think it was worth it to bother him, so they didn't speak to him as he made himself comfortable on the couch and began to play some video games.
Bruce was standing by the doorway, Greg sat on his bed.
The scene was very reminiscent to how his parents had once handled a similar situation back when he had been in elementary school, when he had gotten in trouble for retaliating against a boy that had cut off a handful of his locs while they had been in art class.
Duke's heart felt very tight.
"We spoke with your teachers and all of the complaints they have about you have been blown out of proportion by the Dean. We have enough information to move forward with a claim against the school but want to talk to you about what you want before we make any moves." Bruce spoke calmly, almost as if he was in a business meeting.
Greg's hand was warm over his shoulder, calming and present.
"We're not doin' anythin' without your input, son."
Tears began to prick at his eyes; that term rolled off of Greg's tongue effortlessly, as if it came naturally to him.
It had been a very long time since he had felt like someone's son. Bruce had tried his best, but Duke had kept him at a distance and he'd allowed it to stick. But Greg... Duke hadn't even been able to keep the distance between them. He'd just... been there.
Believed him.
"I know that Gotham Academy is very different from what you're accustomed to; no one would blame you or think any less of you if you were to leave. There are plenty of other schools in Gotham- you could even go back to where you used to go to if that's what you wish."
If Bruce had told him this months ago, Duke wouldn't have hesitated to make the move.
But even with all of the complications and issues he'd faced, he'd managed to make good friends in this new school. And he actually enjoyed the classes- they challenged him and made him work. He also liked being on the school robotics team, even if the captain hadn't liked him at first.
He didn't want to leave.
It would have been the easiest thing, really.
But it wasn't fair to him that he would be leaving because a teacher had hated him from the moment he'd been matriculated. And it wasn't fair to any other student she may have done this same exact thing to.
Breathing in to steady himself, Duke ignored the tears stinging at his eyes before informing both men that he'd like to bring some hell to the Dean.
Greg smiled and promised that hell would be unleashed.
Bruce didn't scold either of them for crass language.
It was a valid question.
One he had waited to hear, even. Because he had known it had been coming ever since Jason had first collapsed onto is balcony with an injury that would have taken his life if not for Travis.
With a sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the stove. Jason looked back at him with a cautious stance to his whole body, eyes marginally narrowed.
It was nearing midnight and he needed to get some rest before he went into the recording studio tomorrow. Heartstrings had been approved by the head honchos and they wanted it recorded as quickly as was humanly possible.
But Jason had appeared once again, sporting only a nasty bruise on his abdomen, luckily enough. And after he'd aided in what little first-aid was required, the boy had sprung the question on him.
He breathed in, contemplating how to answer it.
The answer was a really simple one, granted. But it was an embarrassing one. He wasn't particularly proud of the reason behind he had promised what he had- he could barely come to accept his own damn stupidity sometimes, even.
"I made a promise." he started slowly, registering the way that Jason's face read of incredulity almost instantly. He had to stop himself from huffing cynically at that. "I had a bad habit of patchin' myself up without realizin' my limits. If not fer my friends..." his grip on his own arms became tight. He cleared throat, moving past the knot in his throat. "It's best to bleed out on Travis' floor while he works on me than to bleed out by my lonesome."
He lowered his gaze over to his own feet, preferring to look at his scuffed, old boots, than at the judgmental look on Jason's face.
"But what if you have an accident and no one else is available? What if any of the brats do?" Jason jabbed, Greg just stopped himself from wincing. "Are those friends of yours really that stupid?"
He had to stop himself from lashing out with anger.
Greg centered himself before he answered, "Think of what you're sayin' 'fore you speak, son." he cautioned, lifting his gaze with what he knew was a cold look on his face. "Them friends know me."
Oliver had been there to save his stupid ass when he'd almost bled out from having thought that he could handle the injuries he had been left with after the Thanagarians had finished up with him. He'd come to the ranch to make sure that he had made his way fine, seeing how they had all gone without communicating for much too long.
It would have been a damn foolish end.
The Soldiers had been the ones to ask him to never have proper surgical equipment in his home; but he knew that if this had happened after he'd befriended Michael, Mari, and the rest, they would have been part of the petition. He still struggled to determine what was something he could handle by himself and what wasn't.
Jason scoffed.
"It's stupid." he reiterated, but quickly followed up with, "But if I bleed out on your floor because Travis wasn't available and you have no tools, then it'll be your fault I haunt you for the rest of your days."
Greg still felt like his haunches were raised. But he forced his shoulders to relax, his muscles to become less wound up. Then he offered a small smirk, "Don't worry, I know a mechanic. An' I'm sure Green Arrow'd be overjoyed ta play a role in savin' a bat's ass."
The deadpan stare Jason leveled him with reminded him so much of Bruce that Greg couldn't help but break out into a proper smile. "I would actually rather die."
Greg had convinced Tim and Cass to watch Jojo.
Greg wanted to watch Jojo.
Duke had no idea what he was supposed to be feeling right now. But he felt a really weird sense of happiness and confusion as he sat on the couch between Greg and Tim, Cass lazing in the hammock behind them.
His parents had never been interested in watching anime and Duke had never faulted them for it. They had been busy individuals back then and it wasn't like their generation was going to understand what the appeal of anime even was.
He had decided to start them all off with Part 3 for the simple fact that Jotaro was modeled after Clint Eastwood and that would hopefully give Greg something to enjoy. Well, that and the fact that Hol Horse was an actual cowboy that appeared within the series. So two possible characters for him to like.
Damian was sulking inside of the guest room at the moment and Steph had left them a long string of expletives within the Golden Children chat over how unfair it was that they had been pulled from school for the week and would be able to spend time with Greg when she was supposed to be his favorite.
It was surreal, really.
Bruce had pulled all of his kids from Gotham Academy, leaving them to Greg's care to make a point to the school.
A power move that only the rich and powerful could do, sure... but damn was he grateful that Bruce had chosen this.
They all deserved a good vacation from school, after all.
"Wait a second, these're s'pposed ta be high schoolers?"
"Don't question it." he answered quickly, "Just enjoy the ride." because that's what Jojo was- one long wild ride that elicited as much love from him as it did confusion and hatred.
Tim quipped a couple of times about how inconsistent the show was with its own stand rules, but Cass and Greg remained mostly quiet. Whenever Greg did make a sound, it was generally a snort of amusement or a hum of understanding.
By the tenth episode, Jason popped in with a stack of pizzas in his hands.
Tim and Cass stared wide eyed at him, but Greg just thanked him for picking them up- think you can go get Damian from the room so he doesn't waste away?
Jason grunted that he wasn't some errand boy and threw himself onto one of the dining room table's chairs, but still did the half-ass attempt at completing Greg's task by yelling for Damian to appear, there was food.
The show was paused, pizza was handed out, and eventually they all took their proper places back in the living room- now with Jason sitting on the chair he had pulled up- to continue watching their show.
As they finished the first half of the Part, Duke noticed that this was the first properly lazy day he had had ever since his parents had been left incapable of taking care of him and Bruce had taken him in. He hadn't needed to go out as Signal today, Bruce's orders, and then the rest of the day had been spent watching the show.
Tears sprung up to his eyes again, but he did his best to ignore them.
He wasn't feeling sad about what happened to his parents- or, at least, that wasn't the reason why he had tears. No, he knew that his eyes had watered up because he now could remember what it felt like to spend time with a family- no matter how disjointed and chaotic it could be.
"Tim once told us that I just needed to ask you about something for you to tell me about it. That true?"
"Sounds 'bout right." he murmured with a nod, finished writing down the lyrics he had been contemplating, and glanced up at Jason.
The young man was standing by the bookcase, looking over one of the books Cass had recently finished. His back was turned to Greg, so he couldn't properly read his face.
And it was true.
He was generally an honest person. He just didn't bother with talking too much about himself when questions were asked.
"Alright. I'll bite." the book slammed shut and Jason turned around with a cold, disbelieving look on his face. "What's the story behind you and the Seven Soldiers of Victory?"
It was as if someone had punched him in the diaphragm, really.
The question hadn't just come out of left field- it was something he hadn't thought he'd ever have to talk about until he brought it up. None of the kids had ever so much mentioned such a title- and none of them had ever asked to learn more about the kids of friends he kept that weren't directly related to Bruce in some form.
But... well... Jason had met one of the Soldiers. And he'd heard them talking about the rest on plenty of occasions now- every time he'd come over and gotten patched up by Travis.
Maybe they had let slip the name at some point and he hadn't even noticed?
"Well," he started, leaning back into the couch's armrest, moving his left leg down so his foot could rest against the floor. "We're old friends. Worked together for a long while 'fore disbanding to join the League."
"A group of superheroes that worked together before the Justice League formed?" Jason's tone was incredulous, bordering on scathing. "You'd think there'd be news reports about that. At least mention of them before the League popped up."
Greg took a moment to internalize what was being said.
Then he brushed at his pants before standing up, "Son, if you want me to tell you 'bout the history of the Soldiers, you've just gotta ask."
A fire came into the young man's eyes then, catching him off guard.
He hadn't thought that this would be a difficult conversation. He understood where Jason wanted it to go and was willing to allow it- it's not like it was some great big secret. But that fire... that glare... it reminded him of Stuff's voice the last time they had had their last, truly bad argument.
"You want me to believe that you're just going to talk about something you've worked so hard to cover up? I was raised by the Bat- I can spot a lie."
He didn't allow himself to frown. Instead, he did everything in his power to keep his face neutral; to keep from letting Jason know how bothered he was by this resistance.
"I ain't never given you a reason to doubt my honesty."
"You're dating Bruce." came the cynical scoff, "Forgive me for not forgetting all the half-truths and lies he used on me to keep me in line."
"He's changed." Greg commented, but quickly moved on, "The story behind me and the Soldiers is that we're not from this period in time. We're from the past. That's why there's nothin' recent on us."
There was more to the story. He wasn't blind to this. But he also didn't want to have to talk about it if Jason didn't ask about it. That was proper trauma. He could accept being out of time, talk about it on a superficial level, even. But talking about the way that all traces of their existence in the past had been obliterated... that still hurt too much.
"That's it?"
He closed his eyes and breathed in, working hard to not frown with displeasure.
"That's the great big secret?" Jason's voice was hollow, "That's not nearly as bad as I expected... why's it so classified in the League documents, then? If it's that simple?"
He wasn't sure if it was the flippancy or the admission to having riffled through their documents- but something about Jason's answer nearly set him off.
He grew angered and was, so, unable to stop himself from biting back. He was only just able to stop the bite from being venomous. "Well, I'm sorry that trauma ain't engagin' enough for the audience. But that's all you're gettin'."
And he was walking out of the apartment before Jason was able to come up with a proper response.
He had fucked up.
Jason wanted to kick his own ass right now; but he knew that once he did what he knew he had to do, he'd have to wait in line for his turn.
~Golden Glocks: I fucked up~
~Golden Dick: You've never been bothered by buring the body alne.~
~Golden Dick: Just do tht agn~
He frowned at Dick's stupid reply, then quickly explained how grandiosely he had messed up with as few words as possible.
~Golden Glocks: Gregs pissed at me~
~Golden Glocks: I pushed too far and pissed him off~
He shouldn't have asked today. He should have waited for a better day, when he wasn't feeling as pissed as he had with Bruce. But they had just had an argument over his nighttime activities and he'd hidden away in Greg's apartment and then he'd noticed what he had done and his anger had become misdirected because of course he had.
How dare Greg have become someone he actually felt safe around? How had he even managed that?
He'd been frustrated and then remembered how he'd made no headway finding out about the Soldiers on his own. So his impulsive ass had, once again, acted against his own best interest. And now here he was, pacing in front of the bookcase, waiting impatiently for the rest of the brats to dogpile on him so he could get their help to fix this.
~Golden Wind:... I thought that wasn't phsically possible~
~Goldilocks: Grgz human 2~
~Goldilocks: Jst apologize~
~GoldHeart: You want JASON to apologize?~
He frowned at Tim's reply, but waited for the rest's input.
As he did so, he moved over to sit on the couch. He was able to remain sitting for less than ten seconds; then he was up and pacing once again.
~Goldfinger: Apologize~
~Golden Dick: I recommend an apolgy and a promise to take over B's shift one night so they can have a date night~
~Goldilocks: thts MANIPULATION~
~Goldilocks: DONT DO THAT~
~Goldilocks: B honest~
~Goldilocks: Hez niiiiiiiice~
He knew that.
That had been one of the main reasons he hadn't trusted him in the beginning. Hell, he still didn't fully trust Greg.
But the way that his face had contorted; the coldness of his voice; the fact that it had been his words to have set him off like that... He felt more than guilty enough right now.
Greg had been nothing but nice.
Why couldn't he treat anyone well? Why was he always burning the bridges people tried to build to him?
Steph had warned against manipulation, but that wasn't what this was. This was a peace offering.
Vigilante had been having a conversation with Green Arrow and STRIPE; Jason hadn't missed out on the way that the blonde had seemed very apologetic while Greg had seemed to be chiding him. The robotic suit completely obscured whatever feelings Pat was currently going through.
When he had walked up to them in the hall, he had been quick to ask for Vigilante a quick moment of his time.
He'd thought Greg would tell him to get lost from the cold way his eyes had first regarded him.
But then, the man had sighed and motioned his head towards the side. Then, he'd told his friends that he'd meet up with them for Poker Night before reminding Arrow to stop yanking at STRIPE's unless he wanted to find out how slow a death in space really was.
Once they were alone within the hall, he'd been quick to apologize. He hadn't explained himself, what had happened to set him off, because those were excuses. Fact of the matter had been that he had lashed out at the wrong person and Greg hadn't deserved that. Not after everything he'd been putting up with when it came to him.
And now, he had just finished offering for the man to go with him back to Gotham. He didn't feel like he needed any help in taking down Black Mask and his goons, but this was the only thing he knew might register as an olive branch and not a bribe. This was him asking for help- something he just didn't do.
Guilt and worry continued to hold him in a vice as he waited for the cowboy's answer.
"Gotham ain't my territory." but his tone wasn't final- it was more tentative than anything else.
"The Bat has a clause for when we look for outside help." he explained quickly, "I invited you- you can come."
Vigilante put both of his hands on his hips, looking down at the ground. The brim of his hat completely dashed away any chance he would have had to get a read on him from just his eyes.
Then he heard a heavy sigh, "I appreciate this, son, I do." and Jason, in that moment in time, began to wonder if there was anyone out there that he wouldn't manage to alienate by being the piece of shit he was. "But you didn't have to come all the way up 'ere. A message would've sufficed."
Then Vigilante was looking back at him with bright eyes, "I should apologize too, fer blowin' up the way I did. Wasn't might mature on my part."
Jason found himself unable to properly digest the words at first.
Then he shook his head, took a step back, and motioned in the direction of the teleporters, "I don't do mushy stuff. You in or not?"
And he winced at himself because Greg was trying.
But then the man shrugged lightly, moving to walk forward. "Why not? I've got the time."
~Goldilocks: Jason Peter Todd Wayne-Saunders WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!~
Jason frowned at the screenshot that followed Stephanie's message, quickly reading through it.
It was an excerpt on a piece in which some fanboy's blog had written about the newest vigilante in town. There was a blurry picture that looked a lot like him in his gear kicking at a gunman's face, all the while a blurred figure that was undoubtedly Vigilante was rushing in the direction of Black Mask's escape.
They had taken the criminal down, of course, and he was supposed to be on his way to Black Gate by now- if he hadn't already arrived.
Regular civilians wouldn't have been able to really make out the image; it would have taken quite a bit of technical fixing to make it readable even on a computer. But the brats weren't regular civilians.
~Goldilocks: HOW DARE U TEAM UP WITH HM BFR ME?!~
~Goldilocks: BASTRD~
~Goldilocks: SCM~
~Goldilocks: IWLL DNC ONUR GRVE!~
Then she sent a message with a dozen emojis of headstones.
Jason shook his head at her theatrics and decided to stoke the fires because why wouldn't he?
He'd learned his lessons about being careful with Greg; about not taking him for granted. But Stephanie was basically a little sister. And, because of that, he could push her just a little more.
~Golden Glocks: Sxit lzrs~
It was a nice little bit of petty revenge for what she had told them a few weeks ago, too. So it was perfect.
Stephanie began to send a slew of angered images, along with threats of bodily harm and colorful insults. He chuckled at each one that came by, and rejoiced in the messages of confusion and slight heart from the rest of the Bat brats.
~GoldHeart: I didn't know this was even an option~
~Golden Wind: I thought Bruce didn't let outsiders work in Gotham tho?~
~Goldfinger: traitor~
~Golden Dick: Wait, does this mean I'm the only one that hasn't yet been won oever by him?~
Jason did answer that last one.
~Golden Glocks: Bscly. I acpt dfeet.~
And then, just to really dig at Steph's side, he added, ~Golden Glocks: Sx 2 sck~ before throwing his phone far away from himself.
~..~..~
And that's the end of the double feature!
I'm supposed to start hairdressing school this week, so this will likely be the last update I give for a little bit- at least until I've found steady ground with the new school year. That's why I decided to make it double the usual length and give both Duke and Jason's story.
I do know that Jason basically took over, but... well... he's the difficult one. Duke's just a sweetheart that deserves all the love in the world.
Hope you liked!
Eventually, it'll be Damien's chapter.
Maybe there'll also be a chapter in which we get Bruce and Greg adorableness. Who knows? I'm having way too much fun with this cast.