My life officially has become very weird and strange. It was odd at first, given the occasional sighting of the chaos that is Gotham City. Stuff that, on any other day, I'd really just turn around and go in the exact opposite direction. Ya know, like any sane person would do. You hear gunshots or people fighting? Or the pained screams of various thugs? You turn around. You see something like, oh I don't know, a giant cloud of something slowly spraying down, or ice in the middle of July? You just walk right back to where you were going. My apartment was always in a part of town that didn't see that much chaos in the last few months, so it was always a fallback point for me. It was a place that I could relax in, where I wouldn't see anything crazy.
That is until the night that Red Hood literally crashed into my kitchen, ruined my food, and left me with a few thousands dollars before hopping out the window. That was probably the start of my relatively normal existence dying a painful, awkward death, just like the time I went to prom. Because Red Hood just decided to keep. Coming. Back. I don't know if I did something, or said something, but finding the very armed and bulky vigilante breaking into my home was something I never expected to happen. And that was just the beginning.
It started with the free food. Bribery at its finest, but I couldn't care less. It was damn good, and probably the best stuff I had eaten in years. I thought that would be the end of it. That Red Hood was just going to stop coming, the food along with it. And I was preparing for it. But that didn't happen. Instead, more people showed up. Black Bat and Batgirl.
They came when I was sick, and just...decided to help me. They said it was an apology on behalf of Red Hood. But I don't know. Looking back it was something else. I couldn't put my finger on it. And they still kept coming back. I wasn't sick. I wasn't hurt. I didn't need any more help. But they kept on stopping by, almost on a nightly basis. Whether it was five minutes or fifty, they would just spend time, eating whatever I made and talking with me. My life officially has become very weird and strange. And for some reason, I don't want it to go back to normal. Not anymore.
Michael wasn't sure why today seemed off. Maybe it was just how he felt waking up. Maybe it was because Tuesdays were just odd for him. Or it was something that he was forgetting, a little thing in the back of his mind. In any case, Michael just chugged down a brew of cheap coffee, ate a quick breakfast, and made his way into work. It was just like any other day for him...until it wasn't. Because that bad feeling Michael had was proven right only a few hours in.
He wasn't sure who the kid he was working with was. They were new, obviously, and trying too hard to show off for everyone. Michael knew the type. They didn't need the money, just an excuse to get out of their homes and other useless ideas like that. People like that didn't usually last long, either because they couldn't handle the work itself, or disagreements with the boss. Or in rarer cases, they got injured and quit right after that. This looked like it was going to be one of those last issues.
The kid in question was trying to shift around some boxes, and Michael could see from his space that there was one particularly heavy looking box on a top shelf that was moving way too close to the edge.
Before Michael could shout to the kid, or give him some sort of warning, the box fell. Time seemed to slow down, and Michael wasn't sure what to do for a split second. As he saw the box that was likely on a direct path to the younger worker's head, his body seemed to move on his own, him sprinting over and pushing them out of the path. Michael didn't know why he moved forward, or tried to save the kid. But he was very sure that it had something to do with the various masked people that had been coming over (more like breaking into his home but who was checking?) recently. Of course, every action, good or bad, had a consequence. In this case, it was bad enough that Michael could hear it the moment it happened.
'SNAP'
Michael was on the floor. He could tell that much. At first it seemed like everything was dulled. Sounds, sights, smell. And then everything was suddenly far more intense, especially on his right leg. Michael let out a shout that slowly turned into a scream as he looked down to confirm his worst fears. Broken. He had a broken leg, and right now the pain that was barely forming was suddenly skyrocketing. He knew for a fact that moving around would only make things worse, but Michael could barely register the shouting, or his fellow workers moving around to try and get him help.
The pain was there throughout all of it, and Michael was certainly feeling it. In fact, at one point the pain was actually strong enough that Michael found himself blacking out. That was probably the best part about it all. Michael didn't dream while he was unconscious, just drifted around. Then he was reluctant to wake up, but the dull feeling where his leg was got him going.
Waking up was simple enough, if still painful. Michael stirred, letting out short groans and rubbing his eyes. He couldn't move his right leg, mainly because it was being held up. Michael flinched at the sight, already knowing full well that it was going to cost a lot of money. Money he didn't honestly have. The lack of health insurance was also a metaphorical kick in the gut, but he was digressing at this point, instead more focused on the fact that he was in a hospital, a very good hospital by the look of things.. Clearly someone was keeping an eye on him, because Michael could see a doctor, an older man, walking into his room. Turning around, Michael couldn't help but frown. It was night time already. He had been out for a while it seems.
"Well well, look who's awake. You took a pretty bad fall helping out someone from what I heard. Mr...Kessler right?" The doctor asked, glancing down at his forms. Michael could only wince, but nodded at the question. "Well, your leg was thankfully a clean snap. We had to do a bit of minor surgery, but it's nothing major rest assured. You did hit your head, so that's what knocked you unconscious. So how are you feeling right now?" He asked, and Michael needed a moment to take in the fact that he had to deal with surgery. That was even more money. He couldn't help but let out a hollow laugh. Maybe it was the sarcasm that he liked to fall back to. Maybe it was something more tired and done with just about everything. Michael didn't care for a second.
"Well Doc? If I'm gonna be honest, not feeling the best right now. The leg isn't exactly helping. So uh, give it to me straight. How long am I gonna be off it?" Michael asked, looking around and suddenly feeling thankful that there was a paper cup full of water on the table next to him. He reached for it, slowly taking a sip of the much needed water.
"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're going to have to stay off that leg for the next 3 or 4 weeks. At minimum. I'm sorry but you're also going to have to stay here for a week as well, just to make sure you don't stress your leg." The doctor added, and Michael could only internally sigh. Well it wasn't like he had any plans before this. "I do hate to ask right now, but do you have insurance Mr. Kessler?" The doctor continued, and Michael visibly winced. There it was. The oh so horrible question he had been hoping to avoid. He didn't. He couldn't even call in worker's compensation, because the company was only in it for cheap, hired labor. The workers had all signed agreements that they were responsible for taking care of themselves. His boss tried to fix that but it went nowhere. If they got injured, they got injured, end of story.
"Nope. Sorry doc. Just let me know what the bill's looking like right now." Micheal shot back, doing his best to keep his voice level and his tone uncaring. He was pretty confident that it was at least a bit convincing, even if Michael was trying to convince himself more than anyone. The doctor wordlessly handed Michael a sheet of paper, and he looked down at it. Something else that wasn't his leg had probably snapped, because Michael could only stare at the very large amount that seemed to be at the very least five figures worth of money. Michael hadn't seen that much money in a lifetime. Clearing his throat, he looked at the doctor.
"Do you need a moment Mr. Kessler?" The doctor asked, and Michael couldn't help but shakily nod. It wasn't the older man's fault. Not at all. As the doctor left, Michael waited until the door shut fully. Then he let out a choked sob as he dropped the paper. His hands were shaking. They were shaking, and he couldn't stop them. There had to be something he could do. Michael was thinking back, trying to remember who he was close to. But then again, no one actually came to mind. The only people he could actually really rely on were...Black Bat, Batgirl and Red Hood. But they had only kept an eye on him for minor things. This was major. They wouldn't go out of their way for something like this. No reasonable person would have. That traitorous thought echoed in his mind for so long, that it finally kicked in fully. No one was going to come, and he was on his own all over again.
Suddenly his hands met his face, and he could feel his whole body shuddering. Michael was doing his best to tune out the world at large, because right now he was a mess, and it wasn't exactly something that he wanted to acknowledge.
"Oh god. Oh god. Oh my fucking god I don't have that money. Oh Jesus Christ that's so much money. I don't have that money. That's going to cost so much...fuck...FUCK!" Michael couldn't help but say, realizing that yes, he was actually crying right now.
He hadn't done some actual crying in a long time, but it never felt good. This time it felt worse. Michael couldn't hear anything around him, not even the slight shuffle that appeared outside his window. He was too focused on the bill that had floated to the floor. Unfortunately, that also meant that he could see the calendar that was placed on the table next to him. His eyes widened at the date, and suddenly it occurred to him just why this morning felt off.
The date was all the indication that Michael needed. It was only a few days from his mom's anniversary. That week wasn't exactly a fun one, and clearly wasn't going to be a fun week this time around. Guess the universe really did have it out for Michael. He just wasn't sure why that was by this point honestly.
Jason Todd was going to be honest with himself, at least in the safety of his own mind. He was concerned. And a bit confused. The last few days had been a trip, from having to set up a schedule with both Steph and Cass (seeing as how they came to an agreement that if the three of them showed up at Michael's apartment it'd probably be too chaotic, and more than likely cause the only non vigilante to have a heart attack) to actually acknowledging the fact that he had made a friend, or even just an acquaintance that wasn't a crime fighter or superhero in any way, shape or form.
It was nice to talk to someone who wasn't into the whole 'superhero and villain' thing. A relatively normal person in the increasingly growing madness that was his own life was a breath of fresh air. Granted he did end up having to deal with the fact that said person apparently managed to befriend both Cas and Steph as well. It was a slight hurdle, but at the same time it did mean that things were relatively peaceful.
Having gotten used to Michael's schedule was easy enough. He always was home by either 9 or 10, always in the PM, so that meant that Jason was well on his way through the usual patrolling. It gave him time to deal with whatever crimes were in the area, and then stop in for a small break. Peace of mind and all that. Just like right now. Quickly, Jason moved from one rooftop to another, expertly landing on the fire escape that led to Micheal's apartment. Once he was there, Jason expertly (in his humble opinion at least) unlocked the window and slid on inside.
"Hey kid! Good news, I brought a sandwich from that good deli down the block! Fresh meat and everything!" Jason called out, looking around for a moment. Nothing. It was odd, but at the same time Jason was used to sometimes waiting. Michael liked to take his time showing up sometimes. At least that was the original line of thought, until Jason saw the clock and noticed it was already half past 10. Which meant Michael should have, realistically speaking, been home by now. Now Jason was concerned. Instinctively, he reached for one of his guns, looking around for a moment. The apartment hadn't been ransacked, so that was at least one good sign. That meant that Michael was probably alright. However, Jason wasn't in the mood for dealing with probably, so he did the next best thing. He commed the best possible person for this job on a private channel that only the two of them could talk in.
"Hey Red Hood. Everything going alright on your end?" Barbara Gordon, life saver that she was, answered right away. Jason could only let out a sigh of relief. If she answered right away, that meant that there was probably nothing major going on right now. No super invasion, no city wide war. No rampages. Nothing that could get Michael into some form of danger. It was hard to admit, but the kid had been growing on Jason in the past few weeks.
"Hey Oracle. Look, uh, I need another favor. One you can't talk about for now. Think you can find me Michael Kessler's location? Just got a feeling and figured I'd ask." Jason admitted, glancing around and deciding to leave the freshly made sandwich in the best possible place. The fridge. Walking over, Jason could only nod in approval at the sight before him. "Kid's been getting better food. Good for him, that old take out was garbage anyways." He muttered, giving a short nod as he put away the newer stuff.
"Michael Kessler? Gimme a moment." Barbara said, probably already working her magic. Jason could only wait, admittedly doing that by snooping around. It wasn't his fault. Michael wasn't there, and it wasn't as if Jason hadn't done this sort of thing before. He walked around, moving from place to place, idly poking over things. The only actual thing that stood out was the strong, hardback book that was on the counter. It held a simple title, which was self explanatory. "Recipes". Below that was a single name. "Elizabeth Kessler". Admittedly Jason had never actually seen the cover of the book, seeing as how Michael was always reading out of it. His eyes widened a bit, but before he could look more into it, his comms pinged again. Almost immediately Jason pulled back, brushing off his interest and reaching for a nearby batarang to flip in his hand.
"Alright Oracle, talk to me, whadda got?" Jason asked, slowly moving his head from side to side as he tossed the small throwing weapon into the air. She was quick. That was good. It meant that Michael was easy to find, and Jason just had to play off being concerned. Playing things cool usually worked out in the end. Of course that idea was pushed out the window by Barbara speaking up. The tone itself was a bad sign, but the words she said made things worse.
"Hood...Jason. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Michael Kessler was hospitalized earlier this afternoon." Those words threw just about every sense of the word 'calm' out the window. That also meant that Jason missed catching the batarang he had tossed into the air, letting it clatter to the floor as he jolted.
"What?! How- nevermind. Which one?" Jason immediately asked, already making his way towards the window. He practically hopped out of the apartment, turning around and making sure to lock the window back up just as it was before he came in, before reaching for his grappling gun, aiming for a nearby rooftop.
"It says here...Broken leg. And a concussion. It doesn't go into the exact details, but it sounds like it was a workplace injury. Gotham General by the way, fifth floor. Oh, you're in luck. He's got a window view. Room 504, I'll mark it so you can spot it easy enough. Good luck!" Barbara added, the comm link shutting off. While the sentiment was appreciated, Jason didn't need luck. He had been to that hospital in particular enough times to know the rooms, and that room in particular was easy enough to spot. It took him no time at all (even if he had to stop the occasional mugging. But it was quick. No quips, no time wasted). Just as quickly, he moved himself up until he reached the exact floor, and found himself outside the very room that Barbara had told him about. Jason was about to reach and knock on the window when he heard a sound he hadn't expected to hear. A sob. Then a familiar voice rang out, and Jason's eyes widened. Sometimes the fact that he was so well trained to eavesdrop on things was a blessing and a curse.
"Oh god. Oh god. Oh my fucking god I don't have that money. Oh Jesus Christ that's so much money. I don't have that money. That's going to cost so much...fuck...FUCK!" That was Michael alright. And for the first time he didn't sound annoyed, or casual. He was scared. And he was crying, in the middle of having a mental breakdown it seemed.
Jason was conflicted for a moment, hanging there outside before reaching a decision. Taking a short breath, He made his decision. He reached up, gently knocking on the glass and revealing his head, praying that Michael could hear it. He did, and Jason noticed him quickly wiping away his eyes, clearly trying to hide the fact that tears had been there not a moment ago. Michael nodded, weakly gesturing for Jason to come in. He didn't hesitate, carefully and quietly opening the window. He made his way in, and looked Michael over. He was a mess.
"Hey kid. Heard you got hurt. Everything alright?" Jason asked, quickly pushing past the normal bantering and small talk that they usually went through. He knew that hospitals had nurses checking up on patients regularly, so that meant that, as shitty as the situation was, Jason couldn't risk being there for long. Michael let out a short, hollow chuckle, waving his hand.
"Ah I'm fine. I'm gonna miss work for a few weeks, but hey. Maybe I'll get lucky. Call in for compensation. What, they charge like… 80 grand or something like that if you get an injured limb?" Michael asked, and Jason couldn't help but huff. It was clear that Michael was deflecting, and it wasn't going to fool the vigilante for a moment. Michael wasn't a trained professional, nor was he a good liar, at least compared to some of the people Jason worked with. He took off his helmet, and while it wasn't looking Michael in the eye, it was the second best thing with the domino mask. He showed how unamused he was, no smirk this time around.
"Let's just avoid the small talk. I've worked this gig long enough to know when someone's lying. So we can just move to the part where I'm gonna be blunt. You're hurt. I heard you freaking out. And I'm here to say…" Jason paused for a moment, trying to find the words. What was he here to say exactly? When he paused however, he could see something in Michael's eyes that hadn't been seen since the moment the pair had met. Hope. There was hope where there wasn't before. "I'm here to say that I'm going to help you. Broken legs suck for everyone, and I know injuries better than most people." Jason admitted, putting his helmet to the side and walking over. He wasn't sure exactly what to do, but there was an effort at least, putting a hand on Micheal's shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but apparently effective.
Michael had, with surprising speed, quickly shed the mask he was wearing. The metaphorical one at least, since Jason could now see the absolute despair that had been on his face before. He practically melted, and Jason had to catch himself when suddenly he felt a pair of arms around him. Hugging. Michael was hugging him. For a moment, it was awkward. Jason didn't normally do things like this. Physical affection at least. He was more subtle about it. Smooth, and uncaring in the best way possible. But he had to improvise, and improvise he did. It was awkward, a bit slow, but eventually Jason wrapped one arm around Michael and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder once more.
"It's okay. It's gonna be okay Michael." Jason muttered, doing his best to comfort the obviously distraught boy who was currently holding him in a death grip. Eventually however, Jason had to begrudgingly (not that he was ever going to admit it to anyone at all mind you) let go of Michael, pulling away and looking down at him.
"Look, I gotta go. I'm still patrolling, and I don't think the doctor's gonna like me being in here if they come and check up on you. I'll be back. Promise. Just gotta go for now. Alright?" Jason asked, looking down at him. Michael had passed out once more, and Jason let out a short huff. He did his best to make sure that his...friend was at least in a comfortable position, before quickly putting on his helmet. Glancing back once more, Jason couldn't help but sigh. He was so not good at this sort of thing. But there was someone that was. Exiting the room was simple enough, child's play even. After that, Jason made another call on his comms, knowing exactly who to turn to. "Hey. It's me. Listen, I got a favor to ask you...It's complicated." This was going to be a long conversation.
Michael could only sigh in relief as he wheeled himself out of the hospital. The first day had been hell, the second day there was not much better. He didn't eat much at first, seeing as how he probably could barely afford his first night to stay there. The third day brought great news. It was even better than that really odd fever dream that Red Hood showed up in for some reason. Michael just figured it was just the drugs that were pumped into him, but that's besides the point. The third day had brought in the news that his whole bill, including any new charges were paid for, anonymously at that. Michael figured there was probably some sort of mistake, but that was all tossed out the window when he was left a note that only he was allowed to open up. Reading it confirmed his suspicions.
'Heard what happened. Hope you get better, bake more cookies and waffles.' It was unsigned, but Michael knew for a fact just who actually had sent it in. Or at least what group. So the Bats, the three that he knew at the very least, were loaded? That honestly explained a lot. Seeing They clearly had high tech gear, and more often than not there was some sort of theory about just how they could afford it. That and the large amount of money Red Hood had just left on occasion also helped. And while Michael wasn't complaining, it was a bit jarring that they had gone out of their way to pay for his hospital bills. In the end, whatever minor breakdown Michael had vanished, and he could finally actually enjoy something for once, broken leg aside. He made sure to eat up, and the next four days breezed on by. That's what led him here, getting out of the hospital as quickly as he could wheel on by. He was never really a fan of them after all.
Getting through Gotham in the daytime was actually easier than Michael had thought it was going to be, seeing as how most of the crime actually happened at night. He didn't have to worry about being mugged, being targeted by any kind of super criminal was literally nonexistent. Which meant that Michael could take his sweet time, get a hotdog from a nearby cart, and relax without having to stress anymore from the last week. Eventually he got home, night time already in play. Maybe Michael had lost track of time. It didn't matter, because he was home free.
His elevator worked out great. Honestly that was fun, and it didn't cause him any trouble thankfully. Getting into his apartment was also a breeze, seeing as how he still had his key among other things. While it looked as dusty as he expected, given how long he had been gone for (even a few days away from home can feel like a lifetime honestly) something stood out.
On the floor where his kitchen was, Michael found what appeared to be a batarang. It was a carbon copy of the ones that Batgirl had slipped him, except for the fact that it had a red tinge to it. Seeing how it was obvious just who this one belonged to, he couldn't help but chuckle. It explained how Hood had figured out just where to go, or at least figured out something had happened. Of course that led to the awkward realization that it wasn't a fever dream that Michael had of Red Hood visiting him, but reality. Shaking his head, Michael did his best to just try and stand up using the crutches he was recently given.
It was…not fun. But he could at least walk…barely. Not really, it was more of a hobble forward on shaky arms. But at the very least, Michael had something that he could use to wack anyone that annoyed him. Not literally, but the imagery was good enough for him to think about. At least he could move over to the window, take a moment and just enjoy things. That was until Michael actually looked outside and saw something that he most certainly was sure wasn't there before.
There was a man doing what looked like gymnastics on the rooftops. Honest to god flips, twirls and handstands. The main thing that stood out, besides the obvious flipping, was the black and blue getup that he had on. It was something to behold, seeing the man moving around. Then it dawned on Michael what was going on.
"Why's he just flipping all over the pla-Oh god he's coming over here." Michael said, doing his best to hobble away from the window, even if it was a futile effort. Soon enough, the masked man was there, peeking into Michael's crummy apartment. He gave a cheerful wave, smiling at Michael and knocking on the window.
"Hey! Mind if I slide in? Saw you peeking out, and I got a bit curious." The man said, and Michael could only nod, gesturing for him to come inside. That just about confirmed it. The spandex, the black and blue? The cheerful attitude? This had to be Nightwing. Michael had never actually seen the hero before, given that he worked out of Bludhaven. Of course it did occur to him that he probably didn't know much about heroes, besides the three that visited him before. Michael could only give the most eloquent of responses to the new vigilante in his home.
"Uh…why are you here?" He asked, and internally cringed at the question, hobbling over to his fridge and taking out a bottle of water. He was barely getting used to Red Hood and the others showing up at his place. Now the original Robin (At least that was the theory) and famous hero Nightwing was in his apartment. Michael could't exactly drink alcohol, at least in the presence of a vigilante, so he went with some water, taking a gulp and looking over at the newcomer. Nightwing shrugged, leaning against a nearby wall.
"Oh, a little birdy mentioned something about some 'amazing cookies' so I kinda had to stop by to see them for myself. That and Little Wing was a bit concerned about your leg, but he couldn't really miss a patrol this time around. I'm more flexible, literally and figuratively." He admitted, and Michael took only a moment to realize that there was one person he knew was both male, and more than likely had a connection to Nightwing that was…decently close to Michael. That meant that Red Hood's nickname was-
The sheer thought on it's own was enough for Michael to swallow some of his water wrong, and he quickly put the bottle aside, coughing and sputtering as he tried to catch his breath, doing his best to hide the snort of laughter that was already forming. Michael hid his grin, waving off the very concerned looking Nightwing, who looked ready to go over if Michael had asked for assistance.
"Sorry. Sorry. I just… did you say 'Little Wing'? You mean Red Hood?" Michael asked, covering his mouth for a moment, catching his breath finally. The other main reason his hand was at his mouth was because for some god forsaken reason, Michael was still grinning. For a moment, he forgot about his troubles for the week, instead just taking in the fact that he now had dirt on Red Hood. Nightwing looked at Michael, before grinning and moving on over.
"You bet! Honestly, the amount of nicknames I've got for him is amazing! You wanna hear some of them?" Nightwing asked, pulling out a small notepad. Michael's eyes widened a bit, and he was about to say yes when he hissed, accidentally putting a bit too much pressure on his injured leg. Immediately, he leaned on his good leg, glancing around.
"Fuck! Sorry, sorry. I uh, forgot to take some pain medication today. Can you pass me that bottle? Please?" Michael asked, gesturing towards a small pill bottle that was, much to his annoyance, on the other side of the room. Nightwing moved faster than he realized, and suddenly Michael found himself sitting down on his couch, leg elevated and stable.
"Ah jeez, that leg doesn't look so hot. Had a bad break huh? You gonna be alright? Everything else set here?" Nightwing asked, standing over Michael and looking at the leg in question, wrapped up in a cast. It took Michael a moment to realize he wasn't standing, and that he had a bottle of water and his pills in hand.
"Uh…yeah. Yeah I got what I need. It's…" Michael paused, surprised that the vigilante cared so much. From what he could guess, Nightwing had only second hand information on him, and that was scarce, seeing as how he wasn't exactly close with Red Hood and the others. Yet here he was, doing his best to help Michael out. "It's fine. Really. Thanks." He continued, thrown off by just how nice Nightwing was. He quickly shook those thoughts off, downing the needed pills, and turned to see Nightwing holding up that notepad once more.
"So, you ready to hear what else I call our favorite brooding vigilante?" He asked, and the grin that had faded was back once more, and Michael could only nod. Maybe these next few weeks wouldn't be so bad after all.
Jason stood on the edge of a roof, pacing back and forth. Michael had been taken out of the hospital today, and the only reason he knew that was because Barbara Gordan (the amazing saint that she was) had been able to find out when he was being released. Jason knew for a fact he wasn't as good at handling personal feelings, and he wasn't afraid to admit that. But he knew someone who was far better at handling people.
Dick Grayson. Nightwing. The original boy wonder. And probably the friendliest person Jason had the courtesy to know. And probably the best person to deal with someone having a crisis. He would have asked Barbara to do something, but she (metaphorically) put her foot down, making it clear she wanted to take time before introducing Michael to Oracle. Which was fair, seeing as how Michael tended to get panic attacks whenever he was introduced to a new vigilante. (Jason thought back to how Cass and Steph had met with the guy in question. If that was any indication, it was probably wise to take things slow.)
Thankfully, it seemed that Michael and Dick had hit it off rather well, even if Michael kept Dick at arms length. He did that with just about everyone else when they first showed up, so it wasn't surprising. Eventually, Dick ended up leaving, with Michael giving him a confused, if heartfelt goodbye.
Jason wasn't surprised at all when Dick landed next to him, grinning like an idiot. Clearly he was proud of himself, and at the moment Jason wasn't sure whether to give him a smack on the back of the head or pat him on the shoulder. It only took a moment for the silence to break, and of course Dick had to have the first word.
"So! He was nice. Your description matched him to a T, gotta say! Shy and all, but real well mannered and polite. Though he did get a bit sarcastic when it came to you. I wonder why." He said, eyebrow raised underneath his own domino mask.
"Hey, don't look at me. Kid's got spunk all on his own. Should've seen what he said the first time we met. Crashed into his window on patrol, landed on his table. Didn't ask if I was okay or anything. Went straight to asking if I could have just landed somewhere else." Jason shot back, unapologetic in his words. It was true. Michael had a fire in him, one that, even though it barely showed, was there nonetheless. There was only one issue that Jason had, with all things said and done. Taking off his helmet, he gave Dick the most unamused look he could possibly give. "Did you really have to call me that by the way? I have a reputation to uphold ya know." He continued, raising an eyebrow. Dick only laughed, waving it off.
"Come on, he loved it! Besides, you should have seen the way he was grinning. Kid looked like Christmas came early. And I didn't tell him everything. Just enough to get conversations going." Dick said, idly opening up a tupperware that Jason was so very sure wasn't there before. His eyes widened as he saw the cookies inside, and that Dick was clearly already snacking on one. "You were right! These are amazing!" He said, grinning and quickly closing the tupperware.
"Hey! Give me one! I'm the one who told you about him anyways." Jason said, already reaching for the tupperware in question. Unfortunately Dick pulled away, teasingly waving the box in question and slowly backing away.
"You want these? Gonna have to put some effort into getting em. Come on Little Wing, let's see if you're as good as you think you are." Dick said, turning around and tossing himself off of the roof, going right for a dive.
"Why you black and blue son of a-" The rest of Jason's curse was cut off as he quickly followed along, practically throwing himself after Dick, grapple gun in hand. Just another night dealing with his idiotic family. He wouldn't have it any other way.
AN: Hoooo boy this was certainly a dozy to get out there. Not gonna lie, wasn't sure if I wanted to keep crossposting this fic, if only because college and other bits of stress got to me. Like I mentioned before, this fic is basically based out of the Wayne Family Adventures webtoon, since I've seen that the characterization that I tried to put into the Batfamily here basically follows along with what I had planned out. In any case I'm going to at least try for a weekly, if not monthly update schedule from here on out if only to try and get my muse back on track. I'd like to take this time once again to thank everyone for reading and following along, I'll do my best to keep this story going from here on out! Take care, and enjoy!