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“You are absolutely insufferable, Drake, and I will not stand for your presence in this family any longer!”
“Oh, what, are you going to sit for it, Damian, like you’re not already short enough?”
Off to the side, where Jason stood with Dick watching the two younger boys duke it out once again, Jason snorted and muttered, “Now that one doesn’t even make sense.”
“Doesn’t seem to matter to Damian,” Dick murmured in reply as the Al Ghul-Wayne heir, trained from birth to be the Dragon’s Head and self-proclaimed successor for the caped crusader, jumped on his older brother and started trying to pull his hair.
“You are exhausting, you are embarrassing, and you are only here,” Damian cut off as he nearly landed a bite on Tim’s ear while the other tried violently to break the grapple Robin had on him, “because you wheedled your way into it!”
Tim managed to throw Damian, flipping him onto the floor and promptly planting a boot in the center of his chest. Jason whistled at the intimidation tactic. Dick wondered why Bruce and the girls were running so late. If this went on any longer Tim and Damian would get them all roped into a Bruce Lecture and that was not how Dick wanted to end his night, not when Jason was around and his body armor made him look especially fuckable.
“And you, Damian,” Tim cut into the younger boy’s winded tirade, “are only here because Talia was tired of parenting such a massive baby.”
Damian flashed his teeth and pulled a knife from somewhere—Oh, god has he been making unapproved modifications to the Robin suit again, Dick groaned—but his jab at Tim’s leg missed when the vigilante flipped out of the way.
“I am going to have Titus piss in your coffee beans,” Damian screamed. “No one wants you here, you’re going to die alone, you holier-than-thou pedantic debutante!”
Tim narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare go near my coffee.”
“Watch me, cyber boy,” Damian hissed.
“Hey, Damian, I think—” Dick stepped forward to break them apart only for Tim to hold up a hand.
“No, some things are just off-limits,” Tim said, voice low and sibilant and shoulders squared as he stalked toward Damian, who back-pedaled in the face of the dark aura rolling off the Batman’s protege. “Bringing up how I stalked Bruce and Jason for years? Yeah, I get it.”
Tim cracked his neck, doing his best Batman loom as he stepped toe to toe with the most incendiary member of the Bats. “Bringing up my coffee? Not. Okay,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Take it back. Last chance, brat.”
Damian was often his own worst enemy. It was something Jason and Dick had both been working on with him. He got in his own way and had so much pride it was often counter-productive. Like in this moment, where, when faced with an ultimatum, there was absolutely no world in which Damian would back down.
“I hope you trip over your own cape, Drake.”
Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. He was not getting in Jason’s pants tonight, he was almost sure of it.
Tim snorted and stepped away from Damian, making for the Batcomputer. Jason cocked an eyebrow at Dick, wondering where on earth this was going.
“I won’t be tripping over my own cape…” Tim drew even to the computer chair, before spinning around to face Damian, face lighting up like he’d just remembered. “I’ll happily trip into Ra's Al Ghul’s lap, instead.”
Jason choked. Dick gagged. Damian’s face went absolutely slack before scrunching up like Tim had taken a baseball bat to his nose.
“You’ve SLEPT with my grandfather?” he screeched, launching himself across the Batcave.
“Jason,” Dick yelped, “now would be a great time to grab your baby brother!”
Jason stepped in and swooped Damian up before he could come within hitting distance of Tim.
“Yeah,” Tim said, gloating at finally having the upper hand over his annoying youngest sibling. “I’ve been with R’as and I loved every second of it!”
“You die today, DRAKE!”
Dick reached Tim, setting a hand on his shoulder, “Okay, big brother privileges here, we are absolutely not letting this go any farther.”
Tim glared Damian down. “Damian should realize he can’t say whatever he fucking pleases. I told him to stop.”
Of course, Bruce, who’d been blessedly absent for Tim’s startling revelation, roared into the Batcave at that moment, Steph and Cass following behind on their bikes.
Damian, whose squirms in Jason’s arms had up until this point been unsuccessful, fell back on his other reliably effective method for getting out of holds.
“Ow!” Jason screeched, “Little D bit me through my fucking arm guard!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dick hissed, turning to look at Tim. “I hope you’re happy, Bruce is going to be pissed.”
“Honestly,” Tim hummed, cocking a hip and crossing his arms. “Yeah, I am pretty pleased with myself.”
“Were you jerking Dami’s leash or are you seriously sleeping with Ra's Al Ghul?” Dick queried.
Tim tilted his head at Dick, shooting him a sly half-smile. “Come on, Dickie, you and I both know how attractive an older man can be.”
Dick’s eyes widened for a moment before a commotion at the Batmobile drew his attention again.
Bruce had gotten out and was looking to Steph and Cass to debrief, but Damian was running up to him screaming, “Father, father, father, you must cast Drake from the family once and for all. He’s committed sins you will SURELY find unforgivable!”
Bruce, cowl still on and expression unreadable, glanced at Dick. “What have they done this time?”
Dick just put his head in his hands. The cat was out of the bag. Hell, the cat was out of the bag, having kittens, and also probably laying waste to downtown Gotham. This was going to be the Disappointed Dad Lecture to end all lectures. All Dick wanted was some post-patrol hanky-panky and yet his evening had gone so downhill. Brothers were truly the worst.
“It’s not what I did,” Damian intoned, voice filled with pious righteousness. “It’s what Drake did. He’s been sharing carnal relations with Ra’s Al Ghul!”
Bruce did the freaky thing where he was caught off guard and trying to tamp down any emotional response, going entirely still for several long moments before he pulled the cowl off, blinking. “Wait, what?”
“Yes Father, and for this unforgivable transgression you must finally shunt him from the family! Seal his trust fund! Cut off his credit cards!” Damian stamped one size six, green-booted foot in his uncontainable rage.
Jason snorted a laugh. “You think Tim uses Bruce’s money?”
“Tim, is this true?” Bruce asked, voice a constructed, toneless politeness that let Dick know they’d be dealing with an industrial grade, Bat-patented hissy fit if this didn’t go over well.
“That I don’t use your money?” Tim stalled, shifting from one foot to the other as he also heard the catch in Bruce’s tone. “I mean, my accounts are pretty substantial at this point.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Bruce strode over and stopped before the boys, folding his arms in that stern dad posture they all hated. The girls tagged long, watching the night’s events play out before them instead of hitting the showers. “You’re sleeping with Ra’s Al Ghul. This has been a regular occurrence, going back how long?” He cut his eyes back to Tim before immediately cutting away again. “Never mind, don’t answer that, your eighteenth was only a few months ago and this goes back longer than that.”
He reached up and ran a hand through his sweat-mussed hair, a mannerism all his boys had inherited.
Before he could say anything more, Tim looked over at Dick, standing beside Jason. “This is a bigger meltdown than I was expecting. Did he freak out this badly about you and Slade?”
Dick also went freaky-still for a single moment before he narrowed his eyes at Tim and gave their non-verbal hand gesture to shut the hell up right now, you idiot!
“I’m sorry, Dick and Slade?” Bruce whirled around from where he’d paced to the far end of the platform. “Are you about to tell me that not one but two members of my team are currently sleeping with internationally-wanted, violent criminals and that both of these relationships are not one-off mistakes but have been happening for some time?”
The baritone timber of his voice broadcast a level of incredulous fury usually only reserved for speedsters offering their collaborative services unprompted.
At the back of the group, still near the Batmobile, Cass pulled on Steph’s hand.
“Messy,” she said quietly, trying to pull her girl with her to the showers before Bruce started handing out lectures to everyone in his peripheral area.
Steph snorted, patting Cass’s hand. “Oh, babe, this is definitely messy.” She tumbled into the nearest chair. “Which is why I’m staying for every second of this.”
Cass shrugged, slinking into Steph’s lap. Changing out of their suits could wait until later.
Still near the computer, Tim frowned, looking between Bruce and his oldest. “You never told him, Dick?!”
“No, Timbo, I didn’t tell my Dad-slash-boss I was under eighteen sleeping with a man thrice my age who’d tried to murder me since before I had my learner’s permit,” Dick screeched. “And I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess it was for a lot of the same reasons you’ve been sitting on the fact you’ve been sleeping with someone older than the United States of America who is also technically your Grandfather-in-law!”
“You’re making it sound worse than it is,” Tim crossed his arms.
“I don’t know,” Steph hummed. “All that is objectively true, and it is pretty bad.”
Damian was not sure how he felt about this latest revelation. He'd had his suspicions that Grayson was not averse to sharing same-sex encounters. To have it confirmed gave Damian a perverse, futile lick of hope which was at the same time extinguished in the anguish and fury of knowing Deathstroke had gotten to his brother's heart first. Curse Damian's late birth.
“Besides my personal distaste for the choice of partners here, these relationships are completely unprofessional.” Bruce squared his shoulders. “Dick, how long have you been with Deathstroke and when did this start?”
“Yeah, Dickface,” Jason, whose mouth had drawn tighter and tighter over the last few minutes, joined the conversation. “When were the rest of us going to be privy to this sensitive information? Because I get not telling the Big Man here,” he drawled. “Drama queen that Bruce is, but there are other certain members of the family that would have loved to know you were gettin’ some sugar on the side.”
“Exactly, Todd,” Damian jumped in, taking his predecessor’s side for once. “How dare Drake be the one to know while the rest of us get left in the dark.”
“First of all, Tim figured that out all on his own and I have no idea how,” Dick said, Tim giving a melodramatic bow off to the side. “Second of all, Slade was a long time ago.”
Bruce’s jaw worked in overtime as he digested this information.
Dick looked over at Jason, something pleading in his eyes before he continued, “I’m with Jason now, and Jason’s the only person I want to be with.”
Bruce’s jaw went slack, his hands dropping to his sides. There was a single moment of blessed silence in the cave before it was befouled by Damian’s screeching, “WHAT?!”
Damian whipped his head around to glare at Todd, who had eyes only for Grayson. There could only be one word for the expression on the subpar, third-rate, Cro-Magnon of a crime lord who’d stolen Damian’s big brother: lovestruck.
“Yeah, Jason, I—I love you, and I have for a long time, and honestly I’m sorry to tell you in such a shitty way but,” Dick choked, dashing at his eyes with the back of a hand, “yeah, I used to be with Deathstroke, yeah, it lasted a decent amount of time.” He looked up, stepping forward and grabbing Jason’s hand. “It means nothing in the face of what I feel for you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I wake up thankful for every day I get to have you beside me.”
“Aw hell, Dickiebird,” Jason’s voice was thick, and he leaned over to rest his forehead against Dick’s. “You’re sweet, ya know that? Now is definitely not the time to drop the L-word, I think Pops is gonna kill me if he doesn’t kill himself with a heart attack first, but for what it’s worth I love you too, ya fuckin’ pansy.”
Bruce cleared his throat, taking an aborted half-step towards the pair before seeming to think better of it. “Jason, I—Please don’t joke about me killing you, that’s not—”
“Yeah ok, that’s fair, poor taste,” Jason shrugged.
“While this is…a lot to process at one time,” Bruce continued, slow and deliberate in a way that showed he was choosing his words out of a thousand different pathways this conversation could go, “I am very happy for you two. But.” Here his softened demeanor hardened and he leveled his glare at Tim and Dick. “Do not think we are not addressing the earlier concerns. I need to debrief after tonight’s patrol, and Tim, you are not going on patrol until further notice. Steph, Cass—”
“Wait, no no no,” Damian stepped up, barely meeting his father’s utility belt, but waving his hands as if he owned the room. “That’s it? A slap on the wrist to Timothy, and nothing to give Grayson and Todd but your blessing? Todd probably brought a duffel bag of severed heads to Grayson’s apartment as a courting gift! He probably uses gun oil and dried sweat as cologne! You think Todd is good enough for Grayson?!”
“What, you think I’m not good enough, Demon Spawn?” Jason interjected. “The four foot gremlin wants to give love advice to the most well-adjusted person in the room?”
Damian huffed. “If you think Grayson professing his love for you is an indication that he’s well-adjusted, I advise you to think again, brute.”
“Oh,” Jason leaned forward so he was almost eye to eye with the smaller boy. “And who do you think is ‘worthy of his affections,’ huh, shrimp? You?”
Damian’s cheeks burned a traitorous red. “No. I am only fourteen. I’m too young for him.”
Jason cackled. “Oh my god, you totally do have a crush on him, oh man, like you needed another reason to hate me. God what a night you’ve had, you find out your grandpops is schtuppin’ yer least favorite brother, and then you find out your other least favorite brother is bendin’ over the only family you actually like! That sucks for you, little man.”
Damian’s entire face was now flushed from chest to neck to ears. His hands clenched so tightly the leather gloves creaked.
“Jason, stop, don’t be mean,” Dick chastised, stepping forward and grabbing one of Damian’s clenched fists. “I, for one, think you watching out for me like you do is incredibly sweet, Dami, and it means a lot to me.”
Damian let Dick take his hand, staring at their intertwined fingers with such forlorn longing Jason felt the boy could give Mr. Darcy a run for his money. Dammit, now Jason also found his kid brother’s crush kind of sweet. He couldn’t bring himself to curse his love of Jane Austen, but it was a near thing.
Damian recalled himself after only a moment, snatching his hand back. “Unhand me, floozy. I do not need nor do I want your coddling.”
“It’s not coddling,” Dick sing-songed, watching their youngest stomp his way towards the stairs. “It’s cuddling!”
Stephanie laughed from her seat off to the side. “God, Dick, you can be absolutely insufferable sometimes, you know that?”
He threw her a sunny grin. “It’s one of my best features.”
Tim groaned, heading after Damian. “It is most definitely not.”
“You don’t get to say a word about character flaws, Drake,” Damian chuffed. “I will still be insisting upon your expulsion from the family post-haste.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tim yawned, waving a hand in Damian’s general direction. “Give it a rest, Dami, you can write me out of the will in the morning.”
Bruce watched his two youngest boys head upstairs. The argument that had ended the evening so spectacularly was now put to rest with heavy eyelids and the allure of a good long sleep. He did make a mental note to check on Tim and Damian at least once before breakfast, just in case his youngest got any ideas.
He unclipped his cape and looked over at his girls. “At least you two don’t give me any trouble. You’re still much too young for boys.”
Cass tilted her head, and then put her middle and forefinger to her mouth and stuck her tongue out in a lewd gesture, indicating in the simplest way possible that while they were not giving Bruce boy-trouble, they were definitely getting up to a lot of mischief on their own.
“Cass!” Steph shrieked, pushing the other girl out of her lap as she went bright red. She couldn’t stop her laugh as she continued, “Do not make—sex gestures, or whatever—at Batman!”
Cass, from her new seat on the floor, looked up at Bruce, Dick and Jason, returning the oldest Robin’s sunny smile.
“Bats, I’ll be honest,” Jason hummed, also turning and heading for the stairs, grabbing Dick by the waist as he went, “whoever gave you the title of World’s Greatest Detective was way under informed.”