Work Text:
Dick paused as he placed his armor in his closet. Something felt, off, somehow.
He walked around the apartment on quiet feet, checking the living room and kitchen, sweeping the bathroom and bedroom.
Nothing.
He kicked off his boots and sat on the couch. The remote was close, but he didn’t reach for it.
This didn’t feel right.
Maybe I’m hungry, he thought to himself, but that didn’t sound right either. He ate some leftover pizza before patrol, and he’d actually made breakfast that morning, too.
Thirsty? He asked himself. Nope, not that.
Maybe I just need to get out of the house, and with that, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
…
Jason dropped his helmet on the coffee table and sunk into the couch.
He’d felt off all day, but now, after patrol, after there was nothing left to distract him, what had simply been an uncomfortable feeling became an ache.
He grabbed a book off the shelf and settled down again, only to quickly stand back up. He turned on the radio and went to the kitchen, only to be greeted by near empty cupboards and a fridge with nothing but milk and ketchup in it.
Right. He was supposed to go grocery shopping this week.
He paced around the apartment, changing the radio station each time he walked by it. Jazz? News? Pop? None of it was right.
Eventually he changed into sweats and went back into the kitchen to brew himself some tea.
Why were his hands shaking?
Jason grabbed his jacket and left the apartment.
…
Tim hadn’t been able to focus all day.
Each monitor around him was on a different task. Schoolwork on one screen, WE work on another, and some case leads on the one next to it. On his phone a YouTube video played, muted.
He spun around in his chair and looked at the calculus assignment on the computer before spinning again and looking at the case.
The words made no sense.
He got up to make coffee, but something felt so wrong. He brewed the drink, but it tasted like nothing.
He sat down in his chair, only to get back up immediately. It didn’t feel right.
He crossed his room and sat on the bed, turning the volume on the video.
No, that was wrong too.
He sat in silence, one leg bouncing up and down.
…
Damian panted as he finished his training routine.
That was the fifth time today he’d run through it.
Still, he didn’t feel right. Usually training left him centered, or at least satisfied, but it felt like there was a hole in his chest.
He grabbed a training sword and started to walk through forms, trying to ignore the feeling that something was off.
Still, he couldn’t focus, and took the sword with him as he wandered the Cave. Nobody could have broken in, that was certain, and if they had, they would have known.
He set the sword back on the rack and sat on the mats, tapping his hands on his knees.
Finally, he sat still, arms crossed over his chest, as though he could protect himself from the wrongness he couldn’t chase off.
…
At first, Dick was driving towards the mountains. It was late, but he was Night Wing, and if someone decided to attack him while he was taking a midnight hike, then that was their mistake.
It seemed he had only zoned out for a few minutes on the drive when he realized that he hadn’t taken the right exit, and he was on the interstate to Gotham.
…
Jason stared intently at the jars of pasta sauce on the shelf. Why are there so many?
He grabbed some at random, and did the same when he saw the millions of types of pastas available.
Then he was back on his bike, ingredients for dinner stashed safe in his backpack, and unaware to the fact that he had unconsciously taken the route back to the Manor.
…
Tim got up, grabbed his laptop, and walked downstairs. He found himself outside of Bruce’s office. Bruce wouldn’t mind if he used his office, right? A change in scenery would help anyways.
Tim settled in the chair, and listened to the clock on the wall tick.
No, this still wasn’t right.
…
Damian huffed as he got up. He walked into the Manor and let his feet guide him to the kitchen. Grayson was always lecturing him about food. Maybe Alfred wouldn’t mind if he made himself a snack.
Would that make the ache go away?
…
Bruce didn’t notice the motorcycle and extra car in the driveway. It had been a long day, and he’d felt off throughout all of it. Like a pricking at the back of his neck, but not in danger or warning, but in discomfort. He was looking forward to a quiet dinner and then a quick patrol through the city, but most of all he was looking forward to going to bed.
When he walked in the house, he was surprised to be greeted by the sound of laughter.
Tim and Damian were sitting at the dinner table with Dick and Jason?
There was a mountain of spaghetti on the table, with empty cans of soda and cups of coffee and tea scattered among the plates. Classic rock was playing in the background, and Alfred caught Bruce’s eye as he walked in, a small smile on his lips.
Tim and Damian were arguing about something inconsequential, but they were smiling, with Dick grinning in background and Jason smirking as he twirled pasta around his fork.
“Hey, B,” Jason said casually as Bruce sat down.
“It’s good to see you and Dick,” Bruce said. He needed to choose his next words carefully, because what if something was wrong and he was supposed to pick up on it? What if he was going to slip up and say something wrong, what if- “What are you and Dick doing in town?”
Dick slung his arm around his brother’s shoulder and smiled at his dad. “It just felt right.”