Chapter Text
The last night. It was the last night he had to wear this stupid uniform. The thought had been running through Jason’s head all night like a mantra.
This stupid suit that had no armor, no stealth, and nothing over his chest. Seriously, if Oracle could modify a version of the Discowing suit to fit him, a process that gave him a week’s reprieve before this humiliation, couldn’t she have modified it to include at least some body armor? Maybe Dickiebird flew around fast enough to avoid bullets, but none of the rest of them could do that. Except Cass, maybe. Though even she didn’t have quite Dick’s ability to treat gravity and the laws of physics as optional
But certainly not Jason ‘Red Hood’ Todd. Who, as it just so happened, got into more fights involving bullets than pretty much anyone else in the family. That might have something to do with the fact that he was the only Bat to carry guns, but he was going to ignore that point.
And it was seriously freezing! Surely Dick’s cold tolerance wasn’t that much better than his. Should be worse, actually. Dick was smaller, less insulation. Maybe his more active fighting style kept him warm. Or maybe he was just a masochist. Wouldn’t half surprise him.
The stupid suit also clashed horrifically with his helmet. Not that he was willing to go without the helmet’s protection, especially with the lack of armor over the rest of the uniform, but it had occurred to him about a week in that if he had put on a different mask and called himself something else, he might have actually kept most people from knowing who he was. Oh, he couldn’t fool people into thinking he was Nightwing, even those who didn’t remember when Dick wore the Discowing, but he might have been able to keep most people from associating him with the Red Hood. Hindsight and all that.
“Hey, Little Wing!” A far too chipper voice called out just before the slight sound of silt and gravel indicated he was no longer alone on the roof.
Speak of the devil. “What do you want?” He ground out. Jason didn’t bother to turn and look at him. Which evidently didn’t stop Nightwing as he came up close enough that Jason could almost feel his body heat.
“Happened to be in the area. Stake-out?” Nightwing came to the side, leaning over to see what Jason might be looking at.
“No.” He really hadn’t had a reason for stopping on this roof. But he didn’t have a direction to go at the moment and this was as good a place as any to either wait for something to happen or spot a crime. This was definitely one of the more dangerous areas for pedestrians.
Long experience with masks and people wearing them let Jason know Dick was side-eyeing him, but Jason didn’t bother to explain his rationale. After a moment, Dick’s body language eased. Apparently, he had realized he wasn’t going to get an answer and decided not to press.
“Anyway, night going well?”
“Fine.” He wasn’t interested in prolonging conversation. Not that he was currently mad at Dick or anything. Well, other than for having terrible fashion sense, but Jason supposed that Dick couldn’t be blamed too much for Barbara’s sadism. But every interaction was more awkward while wearing this suit. Jason shivered.
“Cold?”
Jason glared at him. Hopefully Dick could tell. Apparently, he could because he stifled a laugh. “Come on. It’s a quiet night. I was thinking about calling it in anyway. Want some hot chocolate?”
Jason’s first response was to refuse. He didn’t need Dick’s attempts at bonding and judging by the way Dick seemed to be heading back to his own place, that meant it would be Dick’s paltry attempt at hot chocolate, not Alfred’s which was worth coming back from the dead for. He should know.
On the other hand, it would mean getting out of the costume. And never, ever, ever wearing it again. And he didn’t have to stay long. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
Nightwing didn’t turn around, but his movements seemed lighter, and he threw in a couple extra unnecessary flips as they made their way to Dick’s Gotham apartment. Only for him to stop suddenly just across the street. Like the idiot suddenly remembered something. Possibly he did, judging from the uneasy expression on his face.
“Something wrong, ‘Wing?”
“Ye..ah. No. Everything’s fine. Just… it’s been a bit of a bad week. No judging my coping methods.”
Ice water ran through his veins. There were a lot of unhealthy coping methods out there. Jason was far too familiar with far too many of them. “What kind of coping methods?”
Only years of experience let him see the roll of the eyes. “Nothing like that. It’s just… a little messy.”
“You’ve been a slob as long as I’ve known you. If I was expecting pristine, we’d go back to the manor.” There was definitely more going on, and now Jason definitely wasn’t leaving until he knew what.
With a sigh, Nightwing went back to leading the way. Jason waited impatiently as Dick undid the security on his window. The room was dark when he got in. Then Dick turned on the lights.
The first thing Jason noticed was fabric. Everywhere. After a couple seconds he realized he was staring at a giant blanket fort. “Oh…kay.”
“It’ll just take me a few minutes to clean this up.”
The fort looked easily big enough for two people. “Not on my account.” How had he gotten it so big? “I still have clothes here, right? Give me a minute to get changed.”
Dick’s apartment was near the center of Gotham and a common place for most of the family to meet up or hang out, and as such, everyone had a set of clothes to change into. In Jason’s case, it was a pair of sweats that he had left last time he was over that Dick had apparently been considerate enough to launder for him.
Changing out of the fashion monstrosity as quickly as possible, Jason made it back to the living room before Dick finished changing. The blanket fort was still there. Peeking inside, Jason noticed that it was definitely big enough for at least two or three people without them being on top of each other. There were also several comic books, a couple novels that Jason had clocked as Dick’s comfort books, a couple (hopefully empty) juice boxes and a small carton of chocolate milk.
Crawling in, Jason found more signs of use, like candy bar wrappers and empty chips bags. Clearly, Dickiebird had been using this fort for a while. Like, maybe a couple of days while. Still, Jason made himself comfortable and waited, noting that the cushions seemed to be supporting themselves and the fort too well. A lamp added enough height to make it so he could sit up easily without blankets on his head.
“Do you have magic fort building cushions?” he asked when he heard Dick come back. Deliberate steps. They all knew better than to sneak up on each other, especially if visibility was hampered.
“Magnetic. It’s the next best thing.” Dick entered the fort and passed over a mug of hot chocolate before settling in a position only he would be comfortable in, across from Jason. His smile looked mostly normal. If Jason hadn’t known that apparently the week was bad enough for him to spend several days living in a blanket fort in his living room.
“You build enough forts that you bought special cushions for it? I mean, don’t get me wrong, thirteen-year-old me is mad jealous. But still. I didn’t even know they made these.”
Dick laughed. “It was a housewarming gift from the Titans when I moved in.” He seemed to eye Jason carefully. “We made forts sometimes. Things… seemed easier in them. The record was the time we built one that actually spread throughout an entire floor. We kept that one up for over a month.”
“You… made them for movie night sometimes. Didn’t you? Before?” Sketchy memories of blanket tents, popcorn, safety, and protection flashed in his mind.
“I did. Not as much anymore. But sometimes. You should have seen Damian when I insisted he learn how to make one. Said it was an official Robin skill he needed to have.”
Jason choked on his hot chocolate, having to cough for almost a minute before he could breathe. “And the demon brat bought that?”
Dick gave him a mock offended look. “But it is an essential Robin skill.” Indignation faded to a small, bittersweet smile. “I’ve actually used it to reassure child victims before. Long story. But it’s also a place to retreat and feel like a kid again. I think every Robin needs that sometimes.” He eyed the place again. “Sometimes, sometimes the bad things seem a little further away from inside.”
Jason nodded like he had any idea what Dick was talking about. Except, he might. A little. Sometimes you just needed to hide. “So, if you have anything you want to talk about… I’m going to strongly recommend you try someone else.”
Dick laughed. “I’m okay. It’s getting better.”
“Right, good.” Jason looked around at the frankly awesome fort. “If you still make blanket forts for movies, and you are definitely not ashamed of those, why did you think this one would be a big deal?”
“There’s a difference between doing something for fun and doing it for DIY therapy.”
Time to drop the subject. Thank Dick for the hot chocolate, or just insult him in a semi-friendly way, and leave. “You were on the blue list two days in a row.” Or he could do that.
The color list was Alfred’s attempt to convince a family of vigilantes that it was okay, or even a good idea, to stay in sometimes. Green list meant everything was fine and the vigilante in question would probably be out and about. Blue list meant that they planned to stay in but could be called if need be. It was supposed to include instances such as being busy, being tired, or just wanting a day off, but also included instances such as being sick or having minor injuries. Anyone in school was automatically bluelisted when it was exam time.
Yellow list meant that the vigilante in question was definitely injured or ill, to the point where going out could make things worse, but they could still operate in an emergency. Orange list meant that they were a liability and shouldn’t be called out unless it was life or death or a major disaster. Red list meant don’t even bother, because they couldn’t help even if it was the end of the world.
“Unrelated.” Dick waved it off. “I think I had a minor inner ear infection. It’s fine now.”
Jason shuddered. “Ugh! I had an ear infection as a kid, I was practically deaf for a week!” It had been excruciatingly painful, but worse than the pain had been the fear. He had spent so much time terrified that he’d spend the rest of his life unable to hear, vulnerable to anyone who came up behind him. He had actually cried when he realized that his hearing was coming back.
He would never tell a soul, but privately he wondered if maybe not all his hearing had come back. Sometimes it seemed that others had keener hearing than he did. Or that might be because he had more proximity to loud sounds like gunshots and explosions. Fortunately, one advantage to a helmet was the ability to customize sound preferences.
Dick pulled a face. “Yuck, that sounds awful. It wasn’t anything like that. Didn’t hurt, hearing was fine. But I kept having little dizzy spells. Like everything would spin for a couple seconds. And my balance was off. Not walking or anything ordinary, but even a simple cartwheel, I wobbled. I could have compensated, but it seemed like a complication that I didn’t need while doing rooftop parkour.”
For Dick, loss of balance might be even worse than loss of hearing. “Pretty sure dizzy spells should put you on the yellow list automatically,” Jason said with the sanctimonious voice of someone who had never, ever, in his life tried to put himself on the green list the night after having been shot or breaking a few ribs. Or at least, not more than three or four times. Eight, tops.
Dick treated that comment with the respect it deserved and tossed an empty juice box in his direction. “I’m fine, now. And I was going to go to Leslie and request antibiotics if it hadn’t cleared up so suddenly. Really, it wasn’t that bad. I probably would have been fine even if I had gone out.”
On one hand, if anyone could have compensated for an issue like that, it would be Dick. On the other, considering just how much Dick used his acrobatics, in a fight, or even just to get around… Jason fought back the image of just what one mistake could do. “Probably best you didn’t.” Though he was a little surprised. All of them were terrible at letting a little thing like their physical or mental health get in the way of patrolling. “But it’s gone now?” Dick certainly hadn’t looked like he was having any issues. Maybe the extra flips were his way of celebrating that he could do them without falling.
“Seems to be.” He shrugged. “Haven’t had a dizzy spell in a few days and my balance is fine.”
“Wish I had gotten your kind of ear infection,” Jason grumbled. He might not even have noticed.
“But then you would have missed out on wearing my old suit, Little Wing!” Dick smirked at him. “Did you like it?” He asked, smirk fading to something softer, like he actually hoped Jason would say yes.
And Jason, the feared Red Hood, menace of the streets, couldn’t bring himself to crush that hope completely. “Well,… it was more comfortable than I expected.”
“Had to be able to move.” Dick nodded.
“Yeah. It just… wasn’t my style.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know it was supposed to be a punishment. I don’t understand why, but I know that it was.”
Jason shook his head. “Seriously, did your fashion sense freeze at the circus? It seems like…”
“A trapeze costume?” Dick asked. “It was. Sort of.”
“Huh?”
Dick picked up a book that Jason belatedly realized was a photo album. “It was inspired by a costume for my father. We were planning to transition costumes soon. Dad’s was finished, but not Mom’s or mine.” He handed over the book, open to show a man who looked a lot like Dick wearing a costume similar to the one Jason had just spent two weeks wearing.
Jason took the book carefully, knowing the weight of the irreplaceable from those long gone. “Oh. So, it was…”
“A tribute.” Dick smiled, eyes far away. “It wasn’t the most practical, I know. But I wanted to honor them. Especially after moving on from the Robin costume.” He flipped back a page, showing the Graysons, including a ridiculously pint-sized Dick, wearing Robin colors.
“Well, for a trapeze costume, I’m sure it was great. Very… um, flexible. And eye catching.”
Dick shook in silent laughter. “It’s okay. You can say you hated it.”
“I prefer having more armor. And seriously, it was freezing!”
“Just zip it up,” Dick said. “That’s what I did when it was too cold.”
“Zip?” There was no zipper. There was definitely no zipper.
“Mine had a zipper. Yours didn’t?” Dick asked. “I gave Babs the schematics when she asked. I know they mentioned the zipper.”
“There was no zipper.” Probably because he never would have left it unzipped if there had been one.
Dick threw his hands up. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t know anything about it until I saw you wearing it.”
“You said you gave her the schematics?”
“Yeah, ages ago. She keeps them all on file. I’m not sure why, even then I hadn’t worn it in a long time, but she asked, so I gave it to her.”
“Did you… mind?”
Dick started to speak, probably to instinctively reassure, but Jason gave him a hard look. No platitudes. He wanted the truth. Dick took a deep breath and stopped to ponder it. “It was… maybe a little bit of a shock. I think it made me a little more melancholy.” He eyed the blanket fort significantly. “Didn’t help that his birthday is coming up. Next week. It made me think about him more. Which isn’t a bad thing! But especially with having to be grounded for a few days, it wasn’t always a great combination.” He met Jason’s eyes. “I’m not mad. Not at you, not at Babs. I would have appreciated a little more warning, but I don’t think she knew the significance.”
“Knew that it would be the second time I…” inadvertently stole a bit of your heritage from someone who didn’t have the right to offer it? He was aiming for sarcasm, but that would be a little too raw. Time to go. Before Dick got upset or sickeningly sentimental or something.
“It is the second time you wore a Grayson family costume.” Dick smirked. “You do it a third time, I’m going to start calling you Jason Grayson.”
Jason threw a juice box at him. Probably the same one Dick tossed earlier.
He laughed as he deflected it. “What? It’s perfect. It even rhymes.”
“Names don’t need to rhyme. Call me that and I’ll dye your suit neon pink. Or Barbie pink.”
“I can rock pink, I’ll have you know. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to go out in pink or orange uniforms? Prank wars can get vicious.” Dick laughed.
Yeah, Dickiebird probably wouldn’t even hesitate to go out like that. And he had managed to defuse the situation, leaving Jason amused instead of upset. “Oh, I’m sure I could find something.”
“Bruce had to use a pink costume once.”
“You’re kidding. Do you have pictures?”
Dick’s smirk widened. “They’re at the manor. But I can show you. And the rainbow Bat suit. Alfred and I made sure to take lots of pictures. Bruce only knows about some of them.”
“No way. A prank?” He wanted copies of those pictures so badly.
“Distraction. Personally, I think he was paranoid. But it worked.”
Jason thought things over. “Okay, tell you what. You show me the pictures and tell me the story, and you can call me ‘Jason Grayson’ once. In front of Bruce. While someone is taping.”
Dick’s smile was something like a shark’s. “Other witnesses?”
“Optional, but keep it in the family.”
“Deal. You want the story now or when I show you the pictures?”
“Pictures.” He was getting tired and might not appreciate the story properly right now. “It’s getting late.” He was about to say he should leave, but Dick spoke up first.
“You can stay if you want. I’ve been sleeping in here, so you can take my bed. Or camp here.” Dick offered as if he meant it but didn’t actually expect Jason to take him up on it.
Going back home would probably be better. His bed, his security system. His walls of weapons.
“Got anything good in those comic books?”