Peter had been at the Wayne's for a week, and the last time that he saw Damian was the same day that, as Tim puts it, Shit Went Down in the library. It's not like Damian had disappeared, though. Karen assured Peter that he was still in the house, and would leave for school everyday.
He was just really good at avoiding Peter like the plague.
In a sense, Peter kind of felt like a plague. Everyone who was close to him got hurt. His parents, Uncle Ben, Tony.. he called it the Parker Curse. Part of him prayed that Tony was still out there somewhere.
That part of him lost hope with every passing day.
Despite his dwindling hope in those that he loves (loved? Maybe it was more appropriate to put it in the past tense, now), the teen was able to develop a routine at the Manor.
With the news of his so-called meta status came a new set of rules. No web-slinging in the house. No startling Peter. No freaking out guests by walking on the walls. It was basic parameters that he was more than happy to abide by. As for the routine, it went as follows.
Peter would usually wake up a little after eight-thirty. By that time, Alfred would be on his way home from taking Tim, Duke, Damian, and Cass to school. When Alfred arrived, he would make breakfast for Peter, and once he was finished, they would both go about their own business.
During the day, Peter did a number of things. Ever since the Edward Tulane incident, as he so cleverly put it in his mind, part of his day was almost always spent looking into the differences between his own universe and the one he had woken up in. If he was not doing that, then he was either exploring the Wayne property (he had found himself wandering out to greet Batcow more often than he'd like to admit), or trying to get into that underground room.
Which was becoming exceptionally harder to do. Bruce had gone back to working in-person the day after the library incident, which meant that the study was open. That did not mean that it made sneaking in any easier, though.
For one, Alfred was extremely observant, and always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. Everytime Peter got close to the study door, Alfred rounded the corner, offering Peter a snack or asking for his assistance in something. It was convenient, and intentional.
Dick and Jason had both gone home the day after the fight with Damian, but the former swung by every few days to check up on Peter. In doing this, he had found the teen creeping around the study more than once, and like Alfred, would direct him away in subtle ways.
Not only was this family hiding this secret room, they were now actively trying to keep him out .
"Young Peter, might I have a word?"
Damnit, I was so close– Peter internally complained, passing the Study with a glance to the door and a frown. "Sure, what's up, Mr. Pennyworth?"
The butler's smile softened, as he had yet to get Peter to drop the formalities. The man placed a gentle hand on the teen's shoulder and led him down the hall and up a set of stairs. They landed together in the hallway of the bedrooms moments later, and walked together down to Peter's.
"I cannot help but notice that you are still living off of borrowed clothes from Master Tim and Master Dick." Alfred said once they had entered Peter's room. Both of them glanced toward the bare closet across from the bed.
Peter rolled his eyes, smiling a little bit. "Well, I don't have a job, Mr. Pennyworth. I can't buy my own clothes, but I'm really grateful that Tim and Dick have been letting me use theirs." He tried to make his tone sound as genuine as possible, because he was grateful. Without those two, he would be walking around in dumpster jeans.
"Yes, those two are rather generous." Alfred hummed his praising agreement, and crossed the room to Peter's empty closet. He tugged the door open completely and glanced around at the empty space. "...Peter, how would you feel about having this space filled?"
Peter paused, processing the words for a few moments. "..you mean like, having my own wardrobe?"
"Precisely."
Peter chewed the inside of his cheek. This felt like a trick question. "...well, I mean, it would be nice. But again, I don't have a job."
"I'm sure that Master Bruce would not mind swiping a few cards of his. Lord knows he has far too many." Alfred hummed, amusement in his tone.
"I couldn't ask him to do that, letting me stay here is already too much." He chuckled awkwardly, sitting down on his bed and watching Alfred pick at a cobweb in the closet.
"He would be more than happy to, Young Peter."
Peter did not doubt Alfred's words in the slightest. Bruce had been hospitable, generous, and kind to Peter for his entire stay. Even if he had only been here a week, he felt like he belonged. Part of him absolutely sang at that thought. The other part of him felt like he was being chewed up from the inside out.
Belonging was dangerous. Peter belonged with his parents, and they were gone. Peter belonged with Uncle Ben, and he was dead. Peter belonged with Tony and the Avengers, and they were…
Hell, he didn't even know where they were. Did the others turn to dust like him? Were they gifted a second chance in a brand new universe, too?
The Parker Curse was the only consistent thing about Peter, and he would be damned if he let it get to this family. They were far too good for that.
"...I understand your qualms about using Master Bruce's money, Young Peter." Alfred said after the teen's prolonged silence had become too claustrophobic. He pulled Peter from his thoughts, and he looked up to the butler.
"Despite that, getting your own clothes will make you feel much better. Using hand-me-downs forever won't always work." Alfred's smile was gentle, and promising. Peter found it so easy to trust that smile. "I'm sure that you and the others could make a day out of it, too. Master Duke mentioned wanting to go to the mall, recently."
Going shopping for himself was one thing, but going shopping with the others? That felt… so much better . They would all be getting stuff, and Alfred was right, they could make a day out of it. Besides, getting out of this Manor and back into Gotham sounded nice, despite the city's high crime rates and even higher pollution statistics.
Peter's previous worries about using Bruce's money slowly eased away in his mind, leaving room for the prospect of a fun day out with the other three teens.
"..I guess that would be fun. If they want to go, I'll go." he smiled just a bit, leaning back onto his hands.
Pleased with Peter's answer, Alfred's smile brightened. "Wonderful, I'm sure that you could all go this afternoon. If you would like, you may come with me to pick them up, and I could take you all once they get out of school."
"...what about Damian? Don't you also pick him up?"
Alfred shook his head. "Not today. He will be spending the afternoon with a friend of his."
Peter wanted to make a witty remark about Damian actually having friends, but he bit his cheek to stay quiet. He really shouldn't antagonize the kid anymore than his mere presence apparently already did.
"Alright, then sure. If the others are fine with it." Peter shrugged.
Alfred nodded. "I shall send them a message, they can look at it during their lunch period." The butler shut the closet. "Summer is nearly upon us, I'd suggest finding some cooler clothing. We can worry about a winter wardrobe for you once fall hits."
The fact that Alfred wanted to get Peter any sort of wardrobe made a pit form in his stomach. The longer he stayed, the more and more that the teen had to face the fact that they wanted for him to stay. It was something that he was slowly becoming more comfortable with. Slowly. Those pits in his stomach, and the clenching in his chest, would never really go away. But they got easier to deal with as the days went by.
"Sounds good." Peter smiled at Alfred. "..thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. For everything- I mean, without you finding me I wouldn't have.."
"None of that now, Young Peter." The soothing British voice lulled Peter into a silence. He listened. "I was merely doing the right thing. You were lost, confused, and clearly you needed guidance."
"You sure guided me through the door." Peter snickered quietly, and his little joke even drew a chuckle from the man.
"I guided you to the Waynes, Young Peter. I get the feeling that you are exactly where you need to be."
"Even if I'm.. meta?"
" Especially because you are meta, Young Peter. This family has experience with these matters."
"...what's that supposed to mean?" Peter felt out of the loop suddenly. Alfred was being so vague and for what reason? All that the man did in response was smile, with a knowing light behind his eyes. The teen frowned, watching the man exit the bedroom.
After hearing his footsteps disappear, Karen spoke up in his left ear.
"Hi, Peter. You seem confused. How can I remedy this?"
"I don't think you can, Karen." He sighed through his nose, falling back against the blankets and staring up at the ceiling. "Not unless you can read minds."
"I can basically read yours, does that count?"
"Ew, don't remind me." Peter huffed out a laugh, smiling a little bit. The sense of humor that the AI had never failed to lighten him up a little bit. It reminded him of Tony.
"I have breaking news from Gotham, would you like it?"
"Sure." Peter hummed, holding his hands above his face while he listened to her voice. The little indents in his wrists- the spinnerets - were barely visible. He couldn't feel them either, no wonder he hadn't noticed until this point.
"There has been an attack on one of the bridges leading to the harbor. The Daytime Bat, Signal, has arrived on the scene and is engaged in a fight with someone the news is referring to as a member of the Rogues' Gallery."
"Rogues' Gallery? What is that, the X-Men of this universe?" He joked, aiming his wrists at the ceiling and shooting a testy string of webs. It felt strange, and it took instinct to actually do it. He would need to get used to this.
"Those are the villains that Batman and his Community have consistently had problems with over the years."
"So which villain is this?"
"A woman referred to as Poison Ivy. I've found some information about her, if you would like it."
"...sure. Go for it."
"Signal, how are you faring?" the hushed voice of Oracle crackled in Duke's ear, and he gritted his teeth behind his bright yellow helmet.
"Just dandy–" He winced, side stepping away from a row of thorned vines that had been sent his direction at an uncanny speed. "I could use some backup, though– or some crowd control!-" the teen yelped, rolling away from yet another barrage of thorns.
"I'm trying to patch in to Red Hood, but he's not responding-"
"Does he ever?-" Duke winced once more, standing up straight and making a quick advancement toward the red-headed rogue. "Just– if you can't get him it's fine, I'll just be late getting back to school–"
"..Pamela Isley, huh?" Peter repeated the woman's real name out loud, trying to recall if he could remember it from his own universe. He could not. "...whose winning?"
"At the moment, Signal is gaining momentum and an upper hand."
"It's cool that this place has a daytime hero, the city seems like it needs it." Peter hummed, tapping his fingers against his stomach.
"When you begin your work again, would you like to do daytime work?"
That.. was a really good question. Back home, Peter went out as Spider-man whenever he was needed. He didn't really split it between night and day, mainly because he usually worked alone.
"...I dunno, I'll have to think about that one."
"Understood."
"Sorry for the late appearance–" Red Hood huffed, sliding on his hip as he ducked his head to avoid a barrage of thorny vines that were previously aimed at his head. Knowing Ivy, she would be trying to rip that helmet to shreds. "I was a bit tied up–"
" Sure you were–" Signal struggled against a different set of vines, the thorns pressing against his gloved palms harshly. If his uniform weren't so sturdy, they would have pierced through already. "Just help me finish this, please–"
"Sure, dandelion–"
"That is such a poorly timed nickname, Red–"
"The fight near the harbor has just ended. Pamela Isley has escaped into the sewers, and one of the bridges has sustained significant damage. There's a poison control team en route."
"That's good, is Signal okay then?" Peter asked, now walking laps around his room, up the walls, and across the ceiling.
"He has sustained minor injuries. Red Hood arrived on the scene and helped finish the battle. From what I'm seeing, Pamela Isley sustained three gunshot wounds to the abdomen."
"Geeze. Who shot her?"
"Red Hood."
Peter paused in his tracks, standing upside down on his ceiling. The nearby window pushed a gentle breeze into the room, ruffling his curtains and hair. An expression of deep thought crossed his face.
"...cool. I guess he helps out in the daytime and the night, then." Peter mumbled, slowly moving until he was sitting criss-cross on the ceiling. The t-shirt he had on, which had the Nightwing logo across the chest, hung loosely around his waist, but majorly stayed in place. He loved convenient physics.
About two and a half hours later, Peter was riding in the backseat of a black GMC Yukon, looking out the window as Alfred expertly navigated the streets of Gotham. It did not take long to get to the school, and once they did, the car joined the line of other parents and caretakers, moving gradually to pick up the students one by one.
Once the GMC had gotten closer to the front of the line, it was spotted by a familiar group of three teens and one pre-teen, who shouldered their bags and approached. Tim pulled the door open, and held it for the other two to pile in. Damian took the front seat, and was pointedly avoiding looking back at Peter.
"Hey, Peter!" Duke greeted, sliding into the seat next to the teen in the middle row. Cass and Tim piled into the furthest back bench seat, sliding the door shut behind themselves.
"Hey, Duke. How was school?" Peter smiled, leaning into the door and resting his head against the cool glass of the window. Karen's voice sparked to life in his ear.
"Duke Thomas-Wayne has sustained minor injuries to his palms, forearms, and lower back."
Peter paused, glancing down to the boy's palms quickly. From what he could see, which wasn't much, they did look a bit scuffed up and raw.
"..you okay? Your hands look red." the teen pointed out, voicing his concern. Alfred glanced through the rearview mirror, watching the interaction as he pulled out of the school's lot.
Duke hesitated, glancing back to Tim and Cass. Did something happen? Peter worried that he may have gotten into a fight. Were the Wayne kids popular at school, or were they like Peter at Midtown?
"I'm good. Tim and I were messing around during study hall outside, and I fell." the darker teen shrugged, folding his hands in a purposeful way that hid his scraped palms. "It's nothing bad, I already cleaned them." he assured.
Despite not feeling assured at all, Peter nodded and dropped the subject, looking out the window.
"Alfred tell you we're going to the mall?" Tim leaned forward between Peter and Duke, changing the subject with a smile.
Peter's interest was once again grabbed and he smiled with a nod, glancing over to Tim in his peripheral vision.
"He's gonna drop us off, then take Damian home. He'll come get us before dinner, so we've got like.. Two and a half hours." Tim confirmed, looking up to Alfred, who nodded in agreement as he slowed to a stop at a red light.
"I hear we're finally getting you some new clothes."Duke teased, elbowing Peter in the side. "You can stop wearing the hand-me-downs after today."
"What if I like the hand-me-downs?" Peter challenged playfully, giving Duke a testy glare which was returned in earnest with a snicker.
"Get over it. You can't live in our clothes forever, you'll need your own."
"Speak for yourself-" Tim huffed, pushing Duke's head in a brotherly manner. "Peter can take what he wants for all I care."
Peter watched the two go back and forth, which, after a few minutes, resulted in Duke leaning over his seat to shove at Tim. The roughhousing shook the GMC, and Alfred ended up reprimanding the two.
The teen only felt mildly responsible for them getting in trouble, but just before he could apologize, the sound of a quiet snicker from the backseat grabbed his attention. He turned his head and glanced back, pausing when he saw Cassandra covering her grin with her hand.
The two made eye contact, and Cassandra winked, covering her mouth with a finger in a shushing motion. Peter's eyes widened, and he turned back around to face the front.
Okay, so she can talk. That's cool.
It was not much longer until Alfred slowed to another stop in a drop-off zone for a large indoor mall. If Peter had to compare it to anything, it would be to an airport. It certainly seemed big enough to be one.
The teens all piled out, save for Damian, who was still avoiding looking at Peter. When the teen got a glance at the kid, all he could see was a stone cold glare aimed down at his own lap.
"Thanks, Alfred!" Duke smiled, waving and sliding the door shut. Alfred waved to the group, not pulling off until he saw the four make it inside the mall.
Peter was immediately hit by a sensory overload. The amount of people inside was jarring, the smells were abundant and potent , and every few seconds, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end. It had him sort of frozen in his tracks, trying to process all of the new and sudden information before continuing any further.
Duke and Tim looked back after a few seconds of walking, pausing when they saw Peter and Cassandra still standing at the doors. They shared a glance before backpedaling to the two.
"You okay, Peter?" Duke asked, a bit of worry in his tone.
Peter could only nod, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds. His senses had never been this sensitive, not even back home. This must be another change, just like his new organic webs.
"Mhm, there's just a lot going on." He said quietly, forcing his eyes open after a second. "I'm good, let's go."
"Are you sure ? We can sit down if you need to." Tim chimed in, jerking a thumb toward the nearest unoccupied bench. "We've got plenty of time-"
"I said I'm fine , Tim. Let's just go." Peter huffed, glaring a bit before quickly wiping it away. He didn't mean to get frustrated so fast, why did he feel so angry? He blamed it on the mass sensory input he was still getting.
"..right. Okay, cool." Tim shrugged, smiling a bit. "Let's find you some clothes, then."
Cassandra stuck to Peter's side as the group walks, with Tim and Duke leading the two around. They went up the escalators to the second floor first, stopping in various outlet stores and browsing the collection of clothes.
Peter tried to keep Alfred's instructions in mind: it was almost summer, meaning he would need warm-weather clothes. Nothing too heavy.
Duke held up different shirts to Peter's torso, while Tim walked around trying to find a good pair of walking shoes for him. Cassandra even broke away after two or three stores, leaving the group entirely to go do… whatever it was that she was doing. They didn't see her for a whole thirty minutes before she came back with an arm full of shopping bags.
"Pfft- shit, Cass, whose all that for?" Tim snickered, pulling at one of the bags and peeking inside. Peter couldn't bite his curiosity and followed suit. Inside were neatly folded shirts, shorts, and basics like socks and boxers.
Cassandra nodded her head at Peter, smiling with a shrug. "...you guys were going too slow.." She hummed, voice soft. It was much clearer than Peter was expecting though, and it surprised a small smile onto his face.
"..thanks, Cass." Peter nodded. "I can carry the bags, you shouldn't carry everything for me." He assured, taking some of the metaphorical and literal weight from her shoulder as he slipped the bags onto his own forearm.
"Peter, do you want any work-out clothes?" Duke called from across the store, poking his head over a rack and smiling at the trio.
"...I guess?" Peter's smile became unsure, and a nervous chuckle fell over him. The longer he was in the mall, the easier and easier it became to deal with all of the sensory information being thrown his way. This was good, like exposure therapy.
Duke nodded and disappeared behind the rack once more. "What's your favorite color?" he called out again.
"Red!" Peter replied with much more confidence. Tim seemed to light up a bit at his response, and Peter could only assume that meant that Tim also liked the color red.
Ten minutes later, they were checking out of yet another store. Peter tried not to look so uncomfortable every time that Tim swiped the shiny silver metal card.
"Do you want anything for your room?" Tim asked as they exited the clothing store, looking around at the other second-story shops that were open. "Posters, blankets, tech?"
"Oh, no, It's okay." Peter quickly assured. "I'll get that stuff eventually, I think Alfred was more worried about the clothes." he hummed, looking down at his borrowed shoes as he walked. He had been wearing them for a week now, and honestly, was kind of attached. He may have to ask Tim if he could keep them.
"Nonsense." Tim huffed. "Who's your favorite superhero? We can get you a poster. It'll bring some life to your room."
"A list of the most popular heroes are as follows: Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, Black Bat, Robin–"
"Robin." Peter settled on an answer quickly, not wanting to make his silence suspicious. "Either him or uh.. I don't know, maybe Batman."
Tim nodded, glancing around the nearby stores before dragging the group to a novelty shop. Inside was an entire wall of merchandise for superheroes. Honestly, it felt more like a comic book store.
Cassandra helped Peter pick out a few posters. They ended up getting one of both Batman and Robin, as well as one of someone called the Martian Manhunter. Peter had never heard of him, but the dorky costume certainly had an appeal to it.
The rest of the shopping trip went by in a blur. The others got a few things, but it was not hard to miss that the trip had almost entirely centered around Peter. He felt a guilty clench in his stomach, but pushed it aside.
They were his friends, they were allowed to do nice things for him. Even if those nice things could be potentially financially draining.
Alfred picked them up around six without any fuss, and they were home by six-thirty. The other three teens helped Peter carry everything into his room, where they sorted all of the clothes into the closet and dresser.
Already the room felt so much more lived in now that he had clothes of his own. Four pairs of shoes were neatly tucked onto his closet floor- two pairs of sneakers, a pair of dress shoes, and a pair of sandals. Owning more than two pairs of shoes felt absurd, but he didn't say anything.
"Where do you want your posters, Pete?" Duke asked, unrolling the two sheets of shiny paper and looking around at all of the empty wall space.
Peter followed his gaze. "..well, I don't want to walk on them, so they'd probably be better closer to the corners of the room."
The three Wayne children all paused and shared a glance. Right, Peter had powers. It was so easy to forget that when he just acted like a normal teen.
"Sure." Duke shrugged, smiling. "Tim, can you go grab the command strips?"
Minutes later, Peter was crouched on his wall above the poster, holding it in place while Duke stuck the bottom corners to the wall.
"That is really convenient." Tim snickered, looking at Peter's gravity-defying position with blatant curiosity. "And it even works through your clothes and shoes?"
"Most of the time." Peter shrugged. "I doubt it would work if I had on anything too thick, like snow boots or something."
"What do you do in the winter, then? Y'know, when you do your Spider-man thing?" Duke asked, looking up at the person on the wall after he finished sticking down the poster.
"Oh, my suit was heated." Peter snickered. "My mentor did a lot to make sure I was safe when I did my thing."
"You mean Tony?" Tim questioned, sitting on Peter's bed.
"Yeah, Tony." Peter felt unafraid to talk about the man now. Of course, he was still particular with how much information he gave away, but that didn't mean he had to lie as much. "He's a tech genius, and a really good guy."
"He sounds cool." Duke smiled, stepping back as Peter walked down the wall and back onto the floor. "Reminds me of Lucius Fox."
"Who?"
"He works with Bruce at Wayne Enterprises, but he also has his own company." Duke explained, and the group herded out of Peter's room. They made their way toward the kitchen.
"Or Alfred." Tim teased. "He helped out Bruce back when he was a kid, after his parents died." he explained, sticking his hands into his pants pockets.
Peter nodded in understanding, tucking all of that information away for later. He could always ask Karen about this if he wanted to know more. The perks of having a supercomputer in his ear.
Dinner was an uneventful affair. The residents of the manor ate in major silence. Occasionally someone would bring up something that happened at school, or on the shopping trip, but otherwise everyone was quiet.
This did not mean that they were uncomfortable, though. In fact, this dinner felt homey. Even if not all of the Waynes were present, it still felt like a family dinner. Damian finished eating first and left without a passing glance.
"...is he okay?" Peter asked after he was sure that the kid was far enough away to not hear. "He's been avoiding me, and I'm starting to think I did something wrong."
Bruce paused, looking up from his meal for the first time. He glanced at Peter, then the doorway where Damian just left, and sighed.
"...Damian is still trying to grapple through his emotions. He's trying not to take them out on you." the man explained with carefully chosen words. "After last week, I had to have a talk with him."
"You were out of line, Damian."
"I was trying to–"
"I know, but you went about it in the wrong way."
"Father–"
"Damian."
"..."
"What you did was incredibly dangerous, especially knowing what we do about Peter. If you want to protect us, and our identities, then you'll stop giving him so many obvious clues as to our true nature."
"..."
"Am I understood?"
"Yes, Father."
"Oh." Peter said in a small voice, looking down at his cleared plate. "...I hope you weren't too harsh on him, I get it. He was scared."
"Scared?" Tim could have laughed. "He's not scared of anything, he's a little demon spawn."
"Tim, be nice to your brother." Bruce huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Peter, your empathy is greatly appreciated, but Damian is… different. He doesn't often listen unless it's treated like a crime."
"But-"
"Peter."
For the first time, Peter felt truly silenced by Bruce. It felt familiar to a time at the beginning of his sophomore year, when Tony took away his new shiny Spider-man suit after he messed up badly.
But it's not his fault that he did not know those were government agents. They really should have been wearing badges, or something.
"...right. Sorry." Peter huffed, leaning back in his seat.
Bruce fell silent, looking around the table at the other teens. "...Alfred, you can bring me Peter's present, now."
The teen froze, almost immediately looking up from his plate with wide eyes. "...you didn't need to get me anything, I mean, going shopping today was–"
"Fun, right?" Bruce smiled softly. "Relax, you were going to need one of these eventually, anyways. I'm just speeding up the process."
Alfred entered the room holding a small white box, and Peter could already tell exactly what it was. That guilty pit bubbled once more in his abdomen. "You really didn't need to-"
"I wanted to."
Alfred placed the box in front of Peter and cleared his plate, giving the boy a soft pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile before stepping away.
Tim, Cass, and Duke all sat on the edges of their seats, smiling like idiots. They knew about this from the beginning.
When Peter opened up the box, he was greeted by a turned off touch-screen phone. It was a deep red color, with cool glass on the front and back. When he powered it on, there was a Robin-themed lock screen.
"..I may or may not have texted Bruce your favorites." Duke's smile widened a bit, and he leaned his head into his hand, elbow on the table. "Y'know, to make it feel more like it's yours."
When Peter was back in his room, he was silent. No talking to Karen, just marveling in the wonder that was this phone. Despite this universe being so many years behind, it felt modern. The sleek build and seamless transitions between screens was uncanny.
After a few minutes of messing with the settings, creating a password, and checking out the internet (which he had so dearly missed), he finally said a word to his AI companion.
"...hey, Karen. Can you connect to this thing?"
"Certainly, Peter."
"So, did he like his phone?" Dick's voice said from the Batcomputer speakers. The Oracle communications channel was opened on one of the screens, showing all of the active users. Currently, it was just Nightwing, Oracle, and Red Robin. Everyone else would be online within the next hour or so.
"Oh, dude, he was speechless." Tim snickered, leaning back in the Batcomputer chair. "I think he was worried about the cost of everything, though. Must have come from an unstable home."
"Well, his aunt and uncle are both dead, as well as his parents." Barbara Gordon hummed, swallowing something that she had been snacking on as they spoke and set up the systems for the night. "He probably hasn't had new tech in a while."
"Other than his super suit." Tim reminded, earning a hum of understanding from Barbara.
"And you guys still haven't found it?" Dick asked, the sound of a window sliding open being heard from his end of the line.
"Nope. Agent A doesn't want to search his room, saying it's an invasion of privacy or something." Tim rolled his eyes. "I'm willing to bet it's behind the bed frame or something."
"Just bribe Black Bat into getti–" Barbara teased, but was quickly cut short by a large lag spike in her own system. It carried over to the Batcomputer, freezing the screens for a few moments.
"Oracle?-" Tim's eyes widened a bit. "Oracle, you there?"
"What? What happened?" Dick asked quickly. He was not in front of a screen, so he hadn't seen whatever they had.
"Yeah- yeah I'm here." Barbara quickly assured, and the sound of her typing frantically could be heard.
"What was that?" Tim huffed, following her lead and pulling up his own system diagnostics. While his eyes were pulled away from the furthest screen, he had not noticed the new voice channel pop up in the communications tab.
"I don't know, that's what I'm trying to find–"
"Hello, Timothy Drake-Wayne, Barbara Gordon, and Richard Grayson."