Howdy, y'all,
Don't know why I opened like that...I'm not Southern.
But I AM back with a new installment! It's been a long few months of job hunting, familial disintegration, hospital visits, a broken toe, impossible flatmates, and more. Nevertheless, I got an idea for Jazz and Jason's second date and it sorta ran away from me. So while I'm STILL waiting to receive a contract for a job (got an offer, don't know which client I'll be placed with, could be in 2 different cities entirely, and my current lease expires next week), I used this fic to vent my need to have SOMETHING under control in my life.
Overshare? Overshare.
Anyway, let's get to it!
"This is dialogue."
"This is alternative dialogue, meaning whispered or spoken from a distance such as on the phone."
THIS and this and *this* are emphasis. The *this* emphasis is more along the lines of the snarky or sarcastic.
I do not own Danny Phantom nor the DC characters appearing in this fic.
A VIGILANTE, A DIFFERENT VIGILANTE'S SISTER AND A VILLAIN WALK INTO A BAR
02
A Family Joint
As she emerged from her taxi, Jazz couldn't be more grateful for date number two's change of venue. The non-arctic-themed restaurant allowed her to go full-swanky with a tidy black dress. Its silky fabric accentuated her stature and hugged her curves, while the plunging neckline exposed a moderate amount of skin. After a tiring day of exploring her new city, however, the length of the dress and its slightly flared hem were strategic. The long garment hid a pair of comfortable shoes and no one in the fancy hotel's restaurant would be any the wiser. To complete the look, coordinated aquamarine jewelry and hair accessories shone brilliantly against her alabaster skin and fiery red hair, respectively. She was a picture of elegance and sophistication.
Despite the lingering foot pain, she elected to stand across the circle drive from the valet stand, allowing the lights of the fountain at her side to play off the water and ripple across her dress. She took in the beauty of the sculpted marble for some time before allowing her gaze to fall on the serenity of Gotham Bay across the street. It was a miraculously clear evening, and she had perfect visibility of the Bristol suburb's manor houses occupying the opposite shore.
The fierce roar of a motorcycle drew Jazz's attention back to the hotel behind her. A sport bike came to a halt by the valet, its rider wearing a luxurious tuxedo and bow tie despite the vehicle of choice. His graphic-free helmet matched the bike in both its scarlet color and clean, chiseled design. Although his darkened visor shielded his eyes, it suddenly angled toward her, giving away the direction of the rider's gaze. He sat motionless while she coyly looked over her shoulder, the elegant pair momentarily frozen in time.
"Uh…sir?" the valet finally interrupted with a fleeting glance at Jazz.
Spell broken, the rider dismounted and handed over his helmet, fixing his cufflinks while the valet produced a ticket. With his back still turned, the man combed his fingers through his hair to recapture some of the style he'd done before the helmet had threatened its presentation. Seemingly satisfied with the achieved tidiness, he finally found his composure and turned on his heel to face the woman.
"Hey, Jazz," Jason greeted with a smile.
The woman was not shy about letting her eyes assess Jason from top to toe and back. Once again, his jacket sleeves left little room for comfort, but the rest of the tux tapered beautifully to fit his athletic frame. Despite her best efforts to remain cool, an errant corner of her mouth curled up. "Hey, Oreo," she replied. "You definitely look like a snack tonight."
"Oh, is that so?" He cockily sauntered across the circle drive to kiss her cheek. "You look pretty dishy yourself without a turtleneck and parka."
Jazz allowed her smile to take over. "Exactly why I chose the place this time. It's amazing what a warm venue will do for a girl."
"That's definitely the right dress to wear if you want to be hot." Jason's grin faltered. "But, uh, are you still sure you wouldn't rather go to some other fancy restaurant? I know a ton of better places that aren't this…uh…"
"Upper-class, pretentious, and devoid of supervillains?" Jazz sassed. "Nope. It's my turn to choose, and I saw this place when I first came to town. I've been dying to check it out ever since."
Her date sighed. "Fine, if you insist. Just don't blame me if it all goes to shit here, too."
"What could possibly go wrong in a high-class place like this?"
"Careful, or you'll jinx it!" Jason turned his gaze to frown up at the towering bayside hotel. "Trust me, villains aren't the only people to worry about in this place."
Jazz rolled her eyes. "Consider me warned."
The man held out his bent arm for her to grab. "Shall we, m'lady?"
The woman simply giggled and slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. As they walked, her palm unconsciously drifted…upwards.
"Yeah, that's still my arm," Jason teased with a tensing of his bicep for emphasis.
Jazz blushed. "Sorry, just…you know they make these jackets bigger, right?"
"My tailor got sent up the river last week before he could finish repairing my other suits, so I had to improvise with an old tux," he explained. With a faux-hurt tone, he added, "But I'll be sure to wear something looser next time."
"I wasn't complaining…" she defended with a gentle squeeze for emphasis. She did, however, notice a hard protrusion of a side holster beneath the jacket. "Ah, found the decoy, but where's-?"
"Ankle," Jason said. "And your mysterious peeler?"
"I'm 'strapped' as always."
"Apples beware." Ignoring Jazz's subsequent snort, Jason turned his attention to the restaurant's host waiting at the establishment's entrance off of the lobby. "Evening, Paxton. Reservation for Darcy, party of two."
The maitre d' beamed. "Ah, Mr. Todd! Why didn't you say it was you?" Paxton turned to a waiter waiting at his left. "Change to table seventeen."
"Uh, Sir? That's one of the ones reserved for…the family," the waiter responded nervously.
"He is the family," the host muttered from behind his unwavering smile.
Jazz's eyebrow raised.
"We'll be just fine at the window table I requested," Jason insisted.
"Nonsense! William will show you to your seat, even if it's just a formality," Paxton teased.
Jason couldn't ignore his date's curious aura. "I've been here before," he explained.
"Jason…Todd," Jazz put together. "Where have I heard that name…"
"You've probably heard both of them individually. Not many guys are running around with two first names."
William led them to the center of the expansive, high-roofed restaurant. With its candle already lit and flickering off the glassware, their table sat near an indoor water feature that shared aesthetic notes with the fountain outside. The waiter pulled out Jazz's chair while Jason unbuttoned his jacket and seated himself. Once they were settled with menus in hand, William took his leave as another man approached with a freestanding ice bucket.
"Your usual bottle of Château de Sacrée-Rivière, sir," the new waiter said as he presented a bottle of Champagne.
"Thanks, Barty," Jason offhandedly replied as he checked his phone.
"It's…Bartholomew," the man corrected. "At least when I'm here."
Jason looked up. "Bart, you know it's physically impossible for me to call you that," he sassed.
Bartholomew rolled his eyes affectionately but served the Champagne anyway.
"You sure seem to know everyone in Gotham," Jazz commented once they were alone.
"I get around." Jason conducted a brief visual search of the restaurant before frowning at his phone again.
"Clearly." Jazz eyed the appetizers. "You're a regular social butterfly."
"And I flutter all over Gotham."
"You know, considering a villain attacked the last time you were engrossed in your phone, I feel obligated to ask: Is everything okay? Again?"
"Ha, good point. No no, everything's fine," Jason assured and pocketed the phone. "It's just never a good sign when the family group chat suddenly goes quiet. Anyway." He raised his Champagne flute. "To a—hopefully—goonless evening!"
"I'll drink to that!" Jazz said, and they took a sip.
"Jason!?" someone called.
Shocked, Jason spat his sip back into the flute, surprising Jazz. Sitting across the water feature from them was a just slightly older man with similarly black hair—though his was longer and almost 90's heartthrob in style–and piercing blue eyes. His gape-mouthed smile never faltered as he briefly locked eyes with Jazz and stood, making his way around to the couple's table.
"Oh, for Christ's sake," Jason muttered and slammed his entire flute's contents. "Prepare for impact."
"What impact?" Jazz asked, subconsciously sitting straighter and smoothing her dress.
"An assault of aggressive friendship."
"Hey, Jaybird!" the other man greeted as he came to stand just beside Jason's chair while still facing Jazz. He rested a hand on her date's shoulder. "What a small world!"
"Go away, Dickhead."
"Come on, Jason. Don't be rude in front of the pretty lady." He turned his smile onto Jazz and extended a hand. "Hi, I'm Dick."
"Jazz. Nice to meet you," she said and shook his hand.
"You know, it's funny. I heard through the grapevine that Jay had a new love interest, but he hasn't said a word about you to the family."
"Probably because I knew this would happen," Jason growled. "Is it just you, or is the entire circus here?"
"Oh, Babs and I needed a night out." He gestured back at his table.
Jazz leaned back in her seat to peek around the water feature's structure. An amused redhead in a wheelchair offered a merry wave, so Jazz returned the gesture.
"Okay, great. Don't keep her waiting," Jason said, brushing him off.
"Since you do clearly know everyone in Gotham, let me guess how you two know each other," Jazz said, overlooking her date's clear interest in ending the interaction. "I'm gonna say you're…the manager at Jason's gym? Wait, no! The local fishmonger?"
"Ha! No, I'm a detective over in Bludhaven, but Babs'll kill me if she has to go more than a couple days without seeing my beautiful face," Dick replied lightheartedly, getting an eye roll from Jason. "And you?"
"Licensed therapist. I start at Arkham on Monday."
"Aaahhh," the elder man hummed. "A woman with a taste for living on the edge."
"If you call a six-figure starting salary 'the edge,' " Jazz drawled, unamused.
"Still, it takes guts to take on the asylum. The people in there…well, everyone in our family has encountered them in one way or another, and it's usually, uh, not fun."
"You guys deal with a lot of rogues then?"
Dick gulped and appeared to search for something to say. "Oh, well, when you're a prominent family like ours, trouble is always just around the corner. Sabotage, kidnapping, cult recruitment…or actually, even cult sacrifice that one time. Remember that, Jase?" he asked with a laugh.
Jazz stared, visibly horrified.
"Sure wish that sacrifice had been a little more successful right about now," Jason jabbed.
"Chill, little bro," Dick defended. "Just giving her fair warning. Gotham's a dangerous place, especially inside the walls of Arkham."
"So, you two are…brothers?" Jazz asked.
"Adopted," the two men chorused, Jason far more aggressively. Dick gave him a playfully powerless punch on the jaw.
"Yet I am the only blood son," a young voice piped up from beside Jazz.
"Fuck!" she chirped with a flinch. An almost motionless boy stood next to her chair, though he grasped his hands behind him instead of mimicking Dick's openness.
"Fuck," Jason concurred.
"Hello?" Jazz amended after a quick glance at her date, necklace clutched tight in one hand.
The young boy's fierce green eyes snapped to meet hers. His brow was set and unwavering. "Greetings, Fenton."
"How do you know my name…"
"Yeah, how do you know my date's name, Demon Spawn?" Jason spat.
The boy scoffed. "Please, as if you didn't attract the attention of Gotham's entire media apparatus on your first date."
"This is Damian, the youngest," Dick informed, "and, as he said, the only biological child of our adoptive father."
"…Oh my god, Jason? Here?!" a new voice declared. Jazz turned to see a tired but well-dressed teenage boy, also sporting black hair, approach the table.
Jason buried his face in his hands with an unintelligible mutter.
"Ooo, and with a date, no less!" the teen added and stood between Dick and Damian. "Hey there! I'm Tim, Jason's younger brother."
"Wow, this is quite the entourage. How many of you are there?"
"Too many," Jason quipped.
"Oh, don't be like that, Jaybird. It's such a sweet, completely unplanned coincidence that they're all here tonight, I'm sure," Jazz droned before turning back toward Tim. "I'm Jazz, but something tells me you know that already."
Tim smiled. "I'm just here with the planning committee for the Humane Society's benefit next week." Summoning an innocent expression, he tilted his head back towards his original table. "So imagine my shock when I look over and my grumpy older brother's smooth-talking a beautiful lady way out of his league!"
"The planning committee," Jason repeated. "Really."
"A couple things came up last minute, so I thought I'd take them here to the family joint for a quick bite while we get it back on track."
" 'Family joint,' huh?" Jazz parroted.
"Has..he not told you yet?" Tim asked, genuinely curious.
"Fuck off, Replacement. You're not wanted here," Jason threatened.
The teen merely rolled his eyes. "Just ignore him."
"Yeah, he acts all tough and gruff," Dick agreed, "but he's a regular Mr. Darcy at heart."
"And with excellent taste in literature, too," Tim added to Dick's appraisal with a wink at Jazz.
"One of Todd's few redeeming and predictable qualities," Damian oozed in agreement.
Jason tore his face from his hands with a gasp and turned to glare at Dick and Tim in quick, disbelieving succession. "You sons of bitches…you checked the reservations. This is a fucking ambush!"
"Don't be too mad at them, Jason. My brother stalked me a bunch back in high school when I got with a boyfriend he didn't like. It's…gremlin love language?" Jazz offered.
Tim and Dick shared a fond smirk.
After a moment, the redhead gestured vaguely. "Plus, it turns out he WAS a villain trying to use my body as an earthly vessel for his dead girlfriend, so…I get it."
Jason gawked. "He what?!"
"It's fine," she assured. "My town's local superhero sent him back to his dimension before anything bad could happen. My brother Danny never let me live it down, though."
After an awkward pause, Damian mused, "I believe she may be more adept than we originally suspected."
"Okay, so are you jerks satisfied?" Jason interjected, finally managing to collect himself. "She's approved by the fucking Welcoming Committee? Can you fuck off now?"
"Hey, Damian," Dick asked, suddenly and exaggeratedly, "If you're here, then does that mean—?"
Jason choked.
The first sign of anything besides self-righteousness crossed Damian's features. "Father insisted on a pointlessly sentimental 'father-son bonding dinner,' " he explained with disdain dripping from every word. "I believe he is greeting the Elliotts."
A boisterous laugh cut through the din of restaurant chatter. At the far end of the room, a tall figure stood with a highball glass in hand. He shared the four brothers' jet-black hair but stood taller than all of them. His alcohol-lubricated movements were just barely not outright sloppy as he joked with the older couple enjoying their meal.
"Bruce!" Dick called.
The man turned around. None other than Bruce Wayne gaped at them. "Boys!" he shouted back, ensuring the entire restaurant had no chance of missing Jason's predicament.
As Bruce began weaving through the tables, something clicked in Jazz's brain. "Father? That means…you're that Jason…"
Jason sighed and shrunk in on himself. "Yeah."
Bruce Wayne's suit did little to hide his impressively bulky physique. Jazz had heard he enjoyed a variety of wild pastimes, and Bruce clearly stayed in shape to sustain those assorted hobbies. Based on the tight fit of the jacket's sleeves, he and Jason likely shared a taste in haberdashery.
"Hello, boys," Bruce greeted, wrapping his arms around Tim and Damian to place himself closer to Jazz's side of the table. The motion jostled his glass and splashed a little of his cocktail onto Tim's sleeve. "Oops. Sorry, kiddo. And you must be Jazz!"
The woman in question suddenly found five sets of eyes on her, Jason's being the most decidedly apologetic.
"It's an honor to meet you," Bruce said, removing his right arm from Damian's reluctant shoulders to extend a hand.
"The honor's mine, Mr. Wayne," Jazz answered and shook his offered hand.
"Bruce, please," the man asserted.
"Bruce," she corrected. "I definitely didn't expect to meet his entire family this evening."
"It was entirely happenstance, I assure you."
"Uh-huh," a bemused Jazz uttered.
"Though Jason should've known he'd run into at least one of us here," Bruce continued. "We tend to think of this place as the family joint."
"It's literally the family joint," Dick clarified. "Bruce here bought it back when I was a kid."
"So that's why you didn't want to come here," Jazz almost whispered, looking at her very guilty date.
"Jasmine?" a distant woman called.
Jazz rolled her eyes. "Now it's my turn." However, her good humor instantly evaporated upon seeing just who had recognized her.
Scarlet red stilettos silently sashayed across the restaurant's carpet, at a slow, deliberate, and confident pace. Above them danced a two-tone black dress that flashed crimson at the right angle, its taper so form-fitting that it was functionally the approaching woman's second skin. A devilish red smirk and a pair of slender eyeglasses completed the ensemble, though the clear lenses did little to disguise lime green irises so bright they virtually glowed in the dim candlelight of the surrounding tables. The woman's hair, a true, much deeper red than Jazz's copper locks, was pulled back into a tidy, symmetrical updo that almost resembled horns.
Jazz's blood froze over.
"Jasmine Fenton, as I live and breathe!" Penelope Spectra drawled in a sickly sweet tone. "What a small world."
"Spectra," Jazz spat. "What are you doing here? I thought you were dead."
Penelope let slip a brief glare before quickly schooling her emotions. "To you, maybe," she said then turned to the men gathered around their table. "I used to be a counselor at Jasmine's high school, but I'm afraid we didn't see eye to eye."
"Attempted murder usually does that to a relationship."
Penelope, noticing the brothers' sudden piqued interest, tittered and waved off the accusation. "Still the kidder! Jasmine's always had a strong sense of humor. A coping mechanism to survive her family's…unique reputation, I'm sure."
"My my, if you were already a licensed counselor back then, you look amazing for your age," Bruce commented.
"Oh, Mr. Wayne! You're too kind!" she said and affectionately ran a gloved hand along his suit's lapel. "I will admit I'm fortunate, since not all of us can age so gracefully."
Jazz's hackles raised further when Bruce's smile fell minutely. So did the other men's. "Where's your lackey?" she asked. "Or is 'independent boss bitch' your new cover?"
"Actually, Bertrand's entertaining an old friend from your hometown this evening," Spectra said. "The guy's obsessed with me, and he's such a drag. Bertrand offered to keep him off my tail for the night so I could have a little fun. Isn't that sweet?"
Jazz stifled a gasp and desperately wished she could check her phone for updates from her brother.
"Ms. Fenton, I have to say, you are dressed to the nines this evening," Spectra observed. "Oh, dear, I hope I'm not intruding on a date! I would hate to interrupt. I know how hard it is for you to find a man that can handle your superior intelligence."
Jason made to stand up. "Now just who the fuck do you think-"
"-you're here with?" Dick interrupted and used the hand on Jason's shoulder to keep him planted in his seat. "I mean, do you live in Gotham now, or are you just visiting?"
Jason seethed, teeth bared and gritted. He clutched a fork in his left hand with an intensity Jazz could barely believe. She then noticed a familiar green swirling around the edges of his irises. Reaching subtly into her purse, Jazz pressed a button on the side of her Fenton Stain Removal pen.
Interestingly enough, Jazz was not the only one to notice her date's eyes. While Dick massaged Jason's shoulders, Tim coughed and made a miniscule gesture towards his own face. Jason, suddenly stricken, scrunched his eyes and turned away.
Spectra's gaze lingered on Jason a moment longer than it should have before it rose to meet Dick's curious look. "I get around quite a bit. Jazz knows just how much I love to fly. But when I heard about this prestigious hotel and its Michelin star restaurant, I knew I couldn't miss it."
Next to the stain removal pen, Jazz's phone woke with a buzz.
1 New Notification from Fenton FinderTM: [Two Ectosignatures Detected - Level 4 Malicious & Level 1 Latent]
1 New Message from Toast: [Just ran into Bertrand around Gotham keep an eye out for Penelobitch]
"And I'm so glad I did!" Penelope continued. "I got to have this…wonderful reunion with a former star pupil and meet her new beau and his dashing family."
Jazz noticed a new bend in the spine of Jason's fork.
"You poor thing, being cornered by everyone like this," Spectra cooed. "I hope Jason at least warned you of what you're getting yourself into by dating a member of Gotham's First Family?"
Jason swallowed.
"Don't be embarrassed by where you come from. Or, rather, who agreed to take you in all those years ago."
"I'm sure that's none of your business," Bruce said. His tone was even, but there was a slight clip to it as he circled around to stand directly behind Jason's chair. "All that matters is that Jason is loved. That's what family is all about, wouldn't you agree?"
"Naturally," Spectra agreed. "I just hope the poor boy doesn't grow unappreciative again."
"I'm no teenager," Jason growled.
Inexplicable glee shone on the woman's face. "Still a child, in my eyes, looking for his place in the world after his last one was lost."
Penelope took a prolonged, deep breath and smiled evilly. Jason wilted slightly.
"What the hell do you know, lady?" Tim spat indignantly.
"I'm a therapist. It's my job to know," she replied.
"Where did you say you acquired your license to practice?" Damian asked.
"I didn't," Spectra replied.
"Well, considering you're off-duty," Dick said semi-amicably, "how about we all just go back to our dinners and leave these two kids alone, huh?"
The Wayne clan made no motion to leave. Jason looked like he wasn't even breathing, the tension in his body threatening to burst.
"You'll leave now if you know what's good for you, you rapidly aging, undead leech," Jazz muttered lowly.
The two redheads individually appraised the rest of the group. Damian, being the closest, had hummed a short agreement with Jazz's sentiment while suddenly playing with her butter knife. Tim glared with crossed arms and a single raised eyebrow. Bruce now had both hands resting on Jason's shoulders, his cocktail forgotten on the adjacent fountain's edge. Dick appeared the most casual, though one foot had slid behind him into a more stable stance.
Slow enough to not worry Bruce, Jason slid his chair back and stood upright. He smoothed his jacket and let his arms hang loosely at his sides. "Ms. Spectra, as much of a pleasure as this has been," he spoke more formally than Jazz had ever heard, "I would like to return to my evening with this amazing woman."
After a hesitation, Spectra let out a disappointed sigh. "Very well, young man. I hope you're able to make it last. Something tells me that might be a struggle for you. And Jasmine," she continued, her tone becoming more self-assured, "there are no words to express how glad I am that I came here tonight."
Jazz subtly slid a hand into the purse beside her without breaking eye contact with her antagonizer.
"Seeing you, meeting this delicious family…and these glamorous patrons! Oh, the envy of this room as aaallllll the Gothamites see this lucky girl worming her way into the wealthiest family's hearts, the inferiority oozing from every square inch of polished silver and pressed linen…why, it's even more delectable than the exquisite food."
"Depart, you spiteful hag!" Damian demanded.
Penelope railroaded on and sauntered towards Jason. "And your date…you picked a good one, dear Jasmine. He tastes of death, just like your brother…"
Jason's instant rush to act toppled his chair and bumped Bruce backward into the table behind him. Dick attempted to intervene, but it was futile, as his enraged brother shoved past him and grabbed Penelope by her nearest arm. Fabric ripped with a scriiiiiitch as he braced his other hand against her hip and flipped the startled woman over the table and into the fountain's pool, knocking over the ice bucket and Champagne in the process. Penelope's startled yelp and the subsequent splash silenced the entire restaurant.
Spectra quickly righted herself and stood in the water. With a slender finger pointed at Jason, she proclaimed for the entire restaurant to hear, "You hateful deviant! You stain on this city's reputation! Mr. Wayne, how could you let your son act out like this?"
Bruce warily eyed the room and then straightened his blazer. "It's a daily struggle, but I have to say you did pick on my most infamously…passionate son."
Having ducked to avoid being hit by Spectra's flailing limbs, Jazz now brought herself out of the crouch and into a defensive stance, ignorant of a slight draft surrounding her right thigh. She aimed a small silver weapon directly at the sopping-wet woman. "Hey, Spectra."
"Jazz! What do you think you're doing? Put down the gun," Bruce warned.
Recognition dawned over Jason. "Peeler…" he corrected, earning glances from his entire family.
Oddly enough, though, the Waynes seemed to relax slightly with the intonation of that single word.
"Fenton tech's harmless to humans," Jazz announced and activated the compact Peeler. She didn't so much as flinch when it enlarged into a gauntlet that shielded her hand and forearm. "It only affects ghosts."
"Are you absolutely sure about that?" Jason warily asked.
Blanching, Spectra looked for an escape. "I'm an innocent woman! Who knows what that device could do to me? You wouldn't dare shoot me so publicly," she weakly threatened.
Damian grinned widely, fire burning murderously in his eyes.
Without diverting her glare from Spectra, Jazz briefly took aim at her opposite forearm and pulled the trigger. After a dazzling green beam passed harmlessly over her exposed skin, she immediately pointed the device back at the ghost in disguise. "Try me, spook."
Spectra, hiding her fear, huffed a laugh. "Oh, Jasmine, you're delusional! You do belong at Arkham, but I'm not sure it's on the staff."
Jazz pulled the trigger. As restaurant guests screamed, a dazzling green beam shot from the Peeler and shredded Spectra of her outer layers like a molting reptile. By the time the weapon powered down, the villainess was nothing but a withered husk, her false skins floating lifelessly in the fountain beneath her.
Everyone sucked in a collective gasp, thoroughly disgusted by the sight. Taking note of the Waynes' assorted expressions, her eyes landed on a traumatized Bruce.
"Ghosts are real, Mr. Wayne," she confidently declared. "And this twisted one feeds on angst and misery to maintain a façade of youth."
The forlorn patriarch shakily snatched his cocktail from the fountain's edge and downed its remaining contents in one go.
"This family is swimming in it, too!" came Spectra's raspy reply. She slowly floated closer. "Orphaned by murder right in front of them, neglected by unavailable parents, raised as a killing machine…. And your new beau: resurrected! He-"
While Spectra had been monologuing, Jazz had grabbed the stain remover with her free hand and pulled the cap off with her teeth. She aimed and sucked Penelope's remaining frame into the latest generation of compact Fenton capture device—featuring built-in ghost tracking, Bluetooth connectivity, and powerful liquid detergent should something spill on her clothes.
"By the way," Jazz said with a glance at Jason, capping the capture device and retracting her partial battle-suit. "That's what Peelers are for."
Breathing heavily, the man's now-greenless eyes went from her to the vacant fountain and back. He stalked over to his date, toppling their table out of the way in his single-minded haste, and tackled her into a passionate kiss. Jazz immediately dropped the Peeler so she could throw an arm around his neck for support. After an awkward pause, the restaurant erupted into applause with a smattering of wolf whistles. The kiss deepened, and Jazz ran her hands down Jason's rippling shoulders and arms.
"God, you are so fucking hot with a gun," Jason breathed.
"Does gravity even mean anything to you?" she moaned.
As their lips met once more, Jazz's fingers wandered up to nestle in his mussed hair. One of Jason's hands caressed the back of her neck; the other snaked around her waist and began sinking treacherously lower.
"Um, lowkey ew?" Tim asked Bruce as they both embarrassedly looked away.
"O~okay, let's break it up, kids. We're in public," Dick interrupted and bodily removed his brother from his date.
Panting slightly, the embarrassed couple quickly fussed at their outfits and hair, hoping to recapture some semblance of sophistication for the masses. With an amused chuckle, Bruce motioned to Paxton who came running with a legion of staff to clear the mess caused by the fight.
"Well, Jason, I guess you picked a good one," Tim commented, stepping aside as a busboy carried away the dirtied place settings.
Jazz chuckled nervously. "Yeah, uh…sorry about this."
"I imagine this happens a lot when you're in a family of ghost hunters," Dick said.
"And just how do you know that?" Jazz accused.
"Oh, uh…lucky guess?"
Bruce chuckled. "I think it's time you drop your little charade, boys. You're insulting the girl's intelligence."
"We just wanted to make sure you were legit," Tim admitted and bashfully rubbed the back of his neck.
"Your ability to defend yourself and perform in a stressful situation is also not unappealing," Damian begrudgingly added.
"Who–or, what was that thing?" Bruce asked.
"Spectra's one of the first ghosts that snuck into Amity Park after my parents' portal started working," Jazz explained. "She posed as a counselor, got my entire high school depressed, then tried to kill me at a pep rally."
"Damn," Tim said, his brothers expressing their agreement. With a gesture to the stain remover, he asked, "So what's gonna happen to her?"
"Oh, I'll just keep her trapped in this till I can eventually get it back to my parents' lab." She capped the pen, then put it back in her purse which Bartholomew had collected from the floor.
"Fucker deserves it," Jason grumbled but brightened slightly when Jazz affectionately rubbed his arm.
The motion ceased, though, when her fingers caught in a tear of the fabric along his left bicep. After she held it out for him to see, the pair barked a laugh. Jason immediately ripped the jacket sleeve clean off before theatrically draping it over the back of his righted chair.
"Well, this is embarrassing," Jason quipped.
Jazz shook her head. "I knew your fear of loose-fitting shirts would come back to bite you. But in all fairness, I'll admit…" She stuck her right leg through the tear that had appeared along the thigh and knee when she had ducked. Jazz dramatically tugged at the dress so the tear would go all the way to the floor, eliciting a laugh from Jason when she then struck an exaggerated pose worthy of a Vogue cover.
Several flashes ruined the moment. A group of paparazzi had crowded the restaurant's entrance, with still more attempting to get a shot through the windows from outside the building. All of their cameras snapped pictures relentlessly.
Damian huffed. "Vultures."
Before Bruce could signal, Paxton already had several staff swarming to reestablish their privacy.
"Welcome to the Wayne Family," Tim drawled.
"You'll get used to them!" Dick cheerily encouraged.
"Tt," Damian tutted with crossed arms.
Jazz followed his gaze downwards to her sneaker which had escaped through the tear in the dress. "Oh, crap. I forgot–well, it was such a long day of exploring, and–they're comfy, okay?"
Bruce laughed. "No one's going to blame you for practicality."
"They might blame you for indecency, though," a final new voice added to the conversation. The soft whisper of rubber tires on carpet stopped as Barbara Gordon's wheelchair rolled up to the group. She held up a wad of white fabric. "Hey, babe, I thought you might want my pashmina for some extra cover."
"Hm?" Jazz contorted and exclaimed when she noticed the tear creeping higher on her hip as well. "Oh! Thank you! Babs, right?" She took the accessory from the newcomer and began wrapping it around her waist.
"Barbara, Babs, Barbie that one time I wore pink," she listed while counting off on her fingers. "Big mistake with ginger hair anyway."
"Well, I appreciate you."
"And I appreciate you." She shifted in her chair, leaning on the arm while she pointed at Jason. "Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting to see this dumbass look like a kid who just found out sugar exists?"
Everyone turned, just catching the slightly dopey expression lingering on Jason's face before it quickly dropped into an annoyed frown.
"I think he might've met his match," Babs concluded.
It was Jazz's turn to feel self-conscious. "Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's only the second date."
As the staff completed resetting the table, the crowd began to disperse, and the diners returned to their own business. Bartholomew produced a new bottle of Chåteau de Sacrée-Rivière, leaving Jazz and the Wayne clan on their own.
"I am a little surprised by how well you guys handled this," Jazz wondered aloud. "Everyone here, actually."
Dick shrugged. "In a place like Gotham, you learn to go with the flow. You'll findare more rogues than pigeons here," he joked.
"Plus, a bat is never too far away," Tim added.
Bruce coughed.
With an easy smile, Jason handed Jazz a new flute of Champagne. "I'm starving. Maybe we can actually order something if these jerks'll ever leave us alone."
A meaningful glance at Bruce kickstarted the man into action. "Alright, let's leave the lovebirds to it," he declared and herded the younger boys away.
Jazz beamed when Damian offered a single curt nod. She snorted when Tim shot her with finger guns. And her chest warmed with Bruce's approving smile.
Dick, the only remaining brother, pulled out Jason's chair for him. "Well, you guys have fun. I'll just be right over there if you need anything," he finished with a point at his table.
"Get lost, Dickhead," Jason drawled, though it was far less venomous than before.
"As you wish, Mr. Darcy," the older man said with an unsubtle wink at Jazz. With that, he wheeled his date away.
Jazz took a satisfying drink of Champagne. "Well, I'll concede that fancy doesn't mean without supervillains when it comes to Gotham City."
"Eh, they mean well," Jason replied with a meaningful glance in his brother's direction.
Jazz snickered. "You know I wasn't talking about them. Besides, they wouldn't be family if they didn't embarrass you publicly. Trust me, I would know."
Jason tried to absently fiddle with his missing sleeve. Upon realizing this, he removed the rest of the jacket and tossed it over the back of his chair, though his decoy gun's holster remained.
His date took a deep breath, sighed, and shook her head.
"What?" the man asked self-consciously.
Jazz wordlessly pointed to his dress shirt's torn right sleeve which had been hidden underneath the jacket's intact right arm.
"Goddamnit," he muttered. "Well, I won't rip this one off at the table."
"Nah, we can save that till later."
"What?"
"Hm?"
"Did you say something?"
Jazz did her best to appear innocent. "Mm–no, I don't think so," she squeaked and took a sudden interest in her menu.
This week's hidden treasures:
- Darcy, party of two: I feel like this is a given in this fandom at this point lol but it is of course referring to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, which Jason is [I believe] canonically known to read
- Château de Sacrée-Rivière: Oooo I'm pretty proud of this one. This is a deep cut to Jason Todd's co-creator Gerry Conway. We already know from their first date that Jason enjoys the bubbles (a Beverly Hills Iced Tea using Champagne instead of Coke). Conway's last name comes from Welsh, Irish, and Gaelic for "sacred river," which is Sacrée-Rivière in French. If any of you even remotely caught on to this, just...all the kudos in the world hahaha
- Cult sacrifice: shoutout to all the summoning Ghost King Danny au fics out there. So many of them are a total blast to read
- Damian appearing and scaring Jazz: that Office meme where Angela appears silently at Dwight's side and he says "Fuck!"
- Danny stalking Jazz and her boyfriend back in high school: this is, of course, referring to the Johnny 13 incident in season 1 of DP.
You all know by now that I don't like to continue oneshots unless I have a really solid idea I believe in, so I hope this lives up to any expectations you might have had! Feel free to let me know what you thought of it. I have ideas for at least 1 more installment, potentially more, but no promises. In the meantime, I'm also on tumblr as AgentIanLegend.
A quick PSA: I've recently been made aware that the Anger Management ship (Jason x Jazz) is becoming the Hardcover ship. I will be tagging both as the new ship name becomes more widely known.
Additionally, I will be using the "vvv fic" tag on related posts on tumblr because this fic's name is just too long lol.
Stay classy!
- hiimian / AgentIanLegend (on tumblr and AO3)