Work Text:
It was a rare day that all of Bruce’s children (plus two that weren’t his) were home. For once, there was not a weapon in sight, though there were plenty out of sight. The kids were actually having a civil conversation for once or just sitting around on the many couches doing their own things and generally enjoying each other's existence.
“Hey, Jason?” Tim absentmindedly called, still scrolling on his phone.
“Hmm?” Jason hummed, not looking up from his book.
“Would you consider yourself a zombie?”
Everyone in the room paused and looked at Tim.
“What the fuck, Timbo?”
Bruce sighed. He knew the peace would not last long.
“I mean, a zombie is a corpse that was brought back to life right? You died and came back to life, hence you’re a zombie.”
“Um, no, Baby Bird. Zombies are reanimated corpses. They’re not alive. Jason, however, is very much alive.” Dick interjected.
“Oxford defines a zombie as a corpse that was brought back to life by witchcraft. I’d say that whatever brought Jason back was magical in nature.”
“Fuck Oxford. Words are defined by society and the people who use them. The common person typically associates zombies with walking corpses without a will of their own. Do I look like I don’t have my own fucking ego to you?”
Damian snorted. “Your ego can be seen from space, Todd.”
“And yours is a fucking neon sign.”
“We get it, your egos are the size of the goddamn planet. Can we just go back to Tim calling Jason a zombie?” Steph interrupted before a fight could break out.
“By Tim’s definitions, Jesus is a zombie. You’re on par with Jesus, Jason. Congratulations.” Barbara chimed in dryly.
“Thanks. I think I look rather saintly myself. I might start calling myself Jasus from now on.”
Steph snorted. “Should we paint eggs on your resurrection date?”
“Would you consider yourself fully revived on the day you crawled out your grave or when you got thrown into the Lazarus pit?” Barbara questioned.
“I was very much alive when I dug myself out, thank you very much.”
“That makes it very close to Halloween then. Sorry Jasus, we’re going to have to celebrate your Easter in combination with Halloween.” Barbara deadpanned.
“We’re a Jewish household. We do not celebrate Easter or Halloween.” Bruce couldn’t help but interject.
“Bullshit. Dickhead always hides eggs around the manor on Easter and the manor is always decked out in decorations on Halloween.”
“We don’t celebrate it, we participate in it. You’ll find that Christianity is very much ingrained in our society.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Anyway, in honour of my resurrection and very not zombieness, I would like to propose the 27th of every October to be celebrated by taking the Batmobile for a joyride around Gotham.”
“You are not touching the Batmobile.” Bruce growled. He was more than happy to give his children anything they wanted but the Batmobile was his baby, his pride and joy!
“You would deny Jasus his wishes? This walking miracle? How cruel, B. What a monster you are.”
“Joyriding isn’t really a celebration activity anyway.” Dick beamed as an idea occurred to him. “Feasts are always very festive.”
“Are we some kind of medieval court, Dickface? No, I deserve to be celebrated in a more fitting manner.”
“Jesus’s resurrection is celebrated by painting eggs. As a lesser zombie, I say Jason’s return should be celebrated by egging the thugs we see on patrol.”
“Lesser?!” Jason protested. “You have great ideas, Blondie but I am in no way a lesser zombie.”
“Jesus took three days, whereas you needed six months. You’re the inferior zombie.”
“Jesus is not a zombie!” Tim finally shrieked. “Okay, so maybe Oxford’s definition is too broad. But! Popular media displays zombies as corpses that move in a comatose trance so at one point, Jason, you were definitely a zombie. I mean, you even crawled out of your own grave. If that isn’t zombie behaviour, I don’t know what is.”
“How about tearing you from limb to limb?” Jason growled.
“I would suggest eating his brain but Drake does not possess one.”
“Ooooh, burn. How are you going to recover from that, jellyfish?” Steph cackled.
“That’s so bad, I’m calling the next villain I fight a jellyfish.” Dick grinned.
“I am regretting starting this conversation.” Tim groaned.
“Tim zombie in morning.” Cass giggled.
“I am not!”
“Why not, Timbo? Zombies are corpses that move in a coma-like trance, are they not? I would say that you are dead to the world before your third cup of coffee and with all the shit you put in it, I think your ‘coffee’ can kill a guy and revive a corpse.”
“It’s a perfectly fine concoction of red bull and coffee, thank you very much.”
“That is beyond disgusting. You chug five of those every morning?”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“I would rather die again than drink one of those.”
“How has your heart not burst? Every sip has to be upping your chance of heart attack by at least ten percent.”
“Tim, do we need to implement a caffeine limit?” Bruce inquired, incredibly concerned.
“You’re as bad, if not worse than me, B.”
“Alfred gives me caffeine-less tea after five cups and I’m starting to think that he needs to do the same to you.”
“Nooooo, B! I need coffee to function. You’re going to make me go through withdrawals!”
“That’s what you get for being an addict to the most boring substance ever.” Jason sneered.
“You smoke. I’d argue that’s worst.”
”Smoking is the least boring form of addiction there is.”
“Yeah, totally not biased opinion from Mr Smoker here.”
“You’re both pathetic.” Damian clicked his tongue in derision.
“You’re just too young to discover your vice, Demon Brat. Everyone in this family is addicted to something.” Jason counted on his fingers and listed every family member. “Dick is addicted to sugary cereal, Bruce and Tim are addicted to coffee, Steph is addicted to waffles, I’m a smoker, Cass is obsessed with dancing and Barbie is constantly snooping on people.”
Like the queen she is, Barbara just scoffed. “That’s a work hazard, not an addiction.”
“Dancing not addiction.” Cass puffed.
“I’d say we’re all addicted to Alfred’s cookies.”
Every unanimously agreed with the statement and some illusion of peace befell the room.
“What made you think about zombies in the first place, Timmy?” Dick asked.
“Oh, I saw an ad for Plants vs Zombies.”
Several voices spoke over each other and Bruce never knew peace again.