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"B’s agreed to finally fuck off and retire?"
Dick reclaimed a pre-made custom Alfred BLT from the fridge.
"Not now. But yeah, there’s actually a timeline now. I shouldn’t be shocked but I am."
He stuffed it into his mouth and tore a giant bite, chewing noisily as he rounded the island. Dick pawed through the bowls of movie night snacks, then slumped onto the table with one elbow and kept eating.
". . . Who d’you think it’ll be?"
Tim stopped in the middle of fishing for some strawberry shoelaces. "Be what?"
"Who gets to be the new Batman?"
"Of us?"
Jason rolled his eyes and swiped at Tim’s haul. "Totally Cass, right?" he said, teeth snapping around the red, sugary tendrils.
Dick considered. Bruce had been as reluctant to part with the knowledge as a crocodile was to unclamp its jaw – or Jason to relinquish the shoelaces to Tim’s questing hand. But if Bruce’s vision of the future was at all telling about the Bats’ aims for the future, Damian was probably gonna want a piece of the cowl action. "Damian or Cass’d be fine. I guess they could split it or double up. Maybe they could timeshare and everyone gets a holiday."
Dick dug through the pile and pulled out a new packet of laces for Tim but he waved him off, shaking his newly-claimed oven-baked chips.
"So . . ." Tim chewed thoughtfully, swallowing before he spoke. "You’re not in the running?"
"Huh?"
"You’re not going for Batman yourself?" Jason was making that affronted face, the one with the quirked eyebrow and bared row of upper teeth.
"Did you," Tim considered, "wanna stay as Nightwing?"
"What? Oh no. I’m not like Bruce, I’m fine to hang up my tights before that. It’s open to whoever asks nicely. Guns are still off-limits, Jason."
Jason rolled his eyes. "So you’re retiring early? Weak!"
Dick rolled his eyes back. "Not weak. Just-"
"Wait a minute. Are you retiring with Bruce?"
"Yeah, I mean, we’ve got enough hands." He narrowed his eyes as Jason and Tim made knowing eye contact. "What?"
"You’re secretly dating Bruce."
"You’re secretly dating Bruce."
" . . . No?"
Jason barked a laugh and span on the bar seat. "You fucking are!"
"I’m not."
"Yeah, you are." Jason triumphantly jabbed his finger at Dick.
"No, I’m not."
Tim pushed Jason’s hand down. "You completely are."
" . . . Maybe I am."
The table became mayhem. Jason curled up, wheezing with giggles as Tim nearly cackled face-first into the popcorn. Dick smacked a hand over his eyes, sighed, then peeled his fingers away to smack it on Tim’s back instead when he choked on a chip.
Tim clutched at Dick’s T-shirt like it was the last thing he’d ever say. His voice strained as he pushed the words out. "Dick, it’s so funny though."
"Kill me."
"You said no guns. Who needs a weapon when a wedding’s on the horizon?" Jason wiped at his tears.
"Ugh."
"Mr and Mr Wayne, I can see it! Wayne-Grayson maybe? And make Tim the ringbearer!"
"Grayson-Wayne? No, that’s for Damian. Or Ace. I just wanna know the proposal story."
" . . . I hate it here."