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Looking around, you couldn’t help but laugh. For the Annual Wayne Halloween Gala (that you and Jason were miraculously invited to given your tendencies to stick out among Gotham’s financial elite), the family had decided to go as, well, each other.
Jason was Batman.
Dick was Batgirl.
You were Robin.
Damian was Red Hood.
Bruce was Nightwing.
And so on in a weird sort of vigilante-costume-musical-chair-situation.
Your personal favorite had to be Damian, of course. Seeing your son in a miniaturized version of Jason’s costume for the first time had been the highlight of your week, to be honest. And of course it was accurate right down to the smaller helmet. Unfortunate mouth impressions and all. That detail had you rolling on the floor with laughter.
“Alright, alright,” Jason had complained. “Shut up. My supplier thought it was a cool touch to the face panel, and it took me a bit to get new ones made.”
“Sure, sweetie,” you’d soothed, complete with a kiss delivered to the tip of his nose.
Now, you couldn’t help but see the way Damian’s own body language mirrored his adoptive father’s. Granted it always did, but the outfit really drove the whole effect home. From the way he crossed his arms and put all of his weight on one hip to the confident strut that was his gait, it was just a miniature of Jason.
And it seemed even Bruce had noticed, given the way he came over to you and said, “Perhaps we underestimated the similarities between them.”
Once the idea of swapping costumes had originally been proposed, Bruce had insisted that everyone dress as a hero different enough that it wouldn’t potentially give anyone’s identity away. For example, neither Dick nor Jason were allowed to dress as Robin in case they mouthed off and reminded someone of the previous incarnations. You’d thought Damian would be an off-color enough choice for Red Hood (plus he’d really wanted that option) since they fought and moved so differently in the field; no one had considered what they were like just walking around.
“It’ll be fine,” you assured him. “No one knows that him and Red are so close, and if they ask we can just say he’s a good actor.”
“Keep an eye on the situation to make sure it stays that way.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” You added a mocking salute just for the laughs, throwing in a smirk that harkened back to Jason’s stint as Robin.
“Aren’t you only supposed to be following my orders?” Jason’s voice called your attention to your other side where he was now standing with a pair of drinks for the two of you. Hilariously, him and Bruce were similar enough in size that he was just wearing a less tricked-out version of the real batsuit, minus the white-out lenses in the cowl.
“No, that’s later tonight,” you teased. “Remember, I’m the second Robin; I snark and do my own thing.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up. What were you two talking about, anyway?”
“How alike you and Damian are,” you replied honestly. “It’s a little scary.”
He glanced at where his son was chatting with Jon Kent. “Well, I did help raise the kid for a while. It makes sense.”
“Yup.”
There was a pause where the pair of you simply sipped your drinks and enjoyed each other’s company.
“So, have you seen Dick’s ass in that Batgirl costume? Phenomenal.”