You Can't Wear That

Complete crack!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own.


Jason Todd sat at the kitchen island in full Red Hood garb sans the helmet, polishing off a turkey club sandwich made by Alfred's glorious hands. He guzzled down the orange juice, and after wiping his mouth, donned his helmet. With a sigh he leaned back in the chair.

No, he wasn't going off to fight crime. Somehow his Bat brothers had roped him into going to some cosplay event downtown. Big nerds, the lot of them. He frowned behind his mask. Which said a lot about him since he'd allowed the big nerds to persuade him into accompanying them for the past three years.

"There you are!" Came Tim's voice as he entered the kitchen.

Jason raised an eyebrow. Tim was dressed in full Star Fleet attire, shut up, complete with the little communicator doohickey. What the crap? He really needed to solve his accursed need for inclusion. "Hey Little Bird."

Tim almost smiled before his face broke into a disconcerted frown. "I thought you said you had a costume."

"This is it." He gestured to his uniform. He tilted his head when the teenager's expression immediately morphed into one of disapproval.

"You can't go as yourself."

Jason gathered his dirty dishes and rose, walking towards the sink. "Why not? I saw people dressed as Red Hood last year." Seriously it was okay for a dude with a beer gut to dress as him but not the real thing? What sense did that even make?

"Yeah and there were like 10 Batmen there."

"Exactly!" He set the dishes in the sink. "So, what's the problem with me going as Red Hood?"

"Those men weren't the real deal. They were just some guys dressed in Bat suits." He reasoned, eying the elder man with challenging eyes at the last point.

He restrained the deep-seated urge to make a snide remark about Tim's last statement. "So? Look don't worry I won't blow my secret identity." He waved the boy off with a heavy dose of nonchalance.

"Screw secret identity. It's not about that." Here the younger man tilted his chin up with all the imperiousness of a Wayne. "It's the principle of the matter."

Jason glared at the boy as he spewed some lecture about the true spirit of cosplay. At one point during the lecture he wondered if the boy was going to produce a cosplay shrine out of thin air and start worshipping it while frothing at the mouth.

"There you guys are!"

He turned to the voice's owner. It was Dick dressed in complete Pokémon trainer regalia. He nearly rolled his eyes. Typical. But he nearly swooned from sheer shock when he saw the devil child next to him. How did Dick get Damian into a Pikachu outfit without severe bodily harm? A ribbon of increased respect for Dick unfurled in his chest.

"Jay bird you can't go as yourself."

Jason frowned deeply at Dick. "No, I'm not having the same argument with you." He couldn't keep his eyes off a downright sullen Damian. Oh my god the little gremlin with all his saltiness was fragging adorable! He fished his phone from his pocket and snapped a couple of pictures. The boy's pupils shrank, and he instantly turned to rabid chipmunk mode, flinging obscenities at him. Jason of course took it in full stride. "Sorry shortstack you look so adorable." He taunted.

Dick tightened his grip on the boy's hand to keep the livid child from trying to maim Jason. "Tim you think you could readjust your Saiyaman suit in 30 minutes?"

"What?" He squeaked. "Wait… No."

"On it! It'll fit him perfectly." Before he could protest the boy bolted out of the room.

Jason stood; brow furrowed wondering what had just happened. He could always fight his way out of this craziness but the other three would gang up on him. Alfred would probably even get involved. Oh god, he was going to look like a complete idiot. He sighed heavily, giving in without a fight.

A beat of silence passed then: "You owe me a set of shuriken Grayson! Then I'm burning this atrocity and throwing it in the bay." The boy said this all with a deadpan face though his tone dripped with black acid.

Forty-five minutes later Tim appeared with the suit. There was a brief struggle during which he was double-teamed by Dick and Tim and prodded into submission. He stood stewing in the readjusted Saiyaman suit, quiet expletives streaming from his mouth. Stupid cosplay. His frown deepened with intensity when he glanced at Damian. The little twerp was beaming, no doubt at his misery. "Shut up. At least you're getting something for your humiliation."

"Okay!" Dick clapped his hands. "Let's go!" He trotted towards the garage, a resigned Damian in tow.

Tim followed with matched eagerness. "Come on Jaybird."

Jason growled in vexation but followed, nonetheless. Screw his life.


Two days later:

He and Damian stood at the bayside a garbage bag between them. The boy, who had no doubt been shell-shocked from the cosplay experience snatched the bag up and spat upon the charred remains within. The level of abhorrence the boy had for the costume in the bag bordered on disturbing. Images of cheek-pinching and baby talk the boy had endured entered his mind. He was surprised the little gremlin hadn't eventually assaulted one of the cosplayers invading his personal space.

Damian growled choice words in Arabic with such vehemence he thought the kid might bust a vocal cord. "Geez, kid."

Damian continued his tirade of obscenities.

He tied the bag and hurled it into the bay. They watched it sink beneath the murky waters. Damian visibly shuddered at the memories. Jason stared at the night horizon briefly in contemplation, trying not to remember the crapstorm that had been cosplay this year. He cast the boy a sideways glance. "How about some pie?"

Damian's cursing abruptly stopped. "From Mary Lou's?" He semi-asked semi-demanded.

Jason decided to ignore the boy's tone, the goblin had been through enough already. "Is there anywhere else?" He grinned when the boy gave a satisfied nod.

"And I'm getting extra-whipped topping." He stomped away.

Jason chortled at the boy but followed. The kid was a royal brat and he lived for his misery but even he needed comfort sometimes. He climbed into the car, finding it already cranked. Together they started towards Mary Lou's for much needed comfort only decadent, artery-clogging, teeth-rotting pie could bring.

FIN