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Dick trailed after his brothers, exhausted from walking. Jason was chewing gum and swinging his car keys around looking like a delinquent beside Damian who stood tall and walked without swaying. Dick glanced at Tim beside him, who was buried in his phone screen. It was a surprise that the guy didn't trip and fall every time there was a curb.
"Here we are." Jason announced, stopping in his tracks.
Tim glanced up in time before he ran straight into the youngest.
"Tsk. An Italian restaurant?"
"Is there something wrong with it?" Jason practically snapped.
Dick rolled his eyes, pushing past his brothers. "Don't kill each other. We're here for a good time."
"Will we get to ice skate? There was a cool rink I saw a while back." Tim suggested.
Dick smiled. "Yeah. Sounds like fun."
The four boys waited until they were seated in a table in the far corner. The restaurant smelled of rich and fancy- and it certainly looked it too. The brothers definitely looked out of place without fancy suits on. Dick blushed, realizing a dinner of such high quality was just normal to them- being the sons of Bruce Wayne and all.
Dick sat down in the corner, Jason next to him. Across from them sat Damian and then Tim. The waiter came by, asking for their drinks. They all ordered water, except for Jason who ordered some alcoholic beverage that Dick thought sounded like a teenager's fruity vape flavor.
The waiter returned with everyone's drinks, and an extra glass of water for Jason. Dick bounced his leg under the table as he flipped through the menu. All of the dishes were extravagant.
Dick lifted his head. "What are you guys all getting?"
Damian had one hand on his chin, deep in thought. "I think I'll choose bruschetta with tomatoes for my starter."
Tim set his menu down, frustrated. "I'm not good at reading Italian."
"You know it says what it is underneath, dipshit." Snickered Jason.
Dick turned to look at him. "Hey, you're not gonna get shitfaced, are you? You're the one who's driving."
Jason leaned over, cupping Dick's hand in his own. He gently placed the keys in the eldest's hands.
"Congratulations on the promotion." Jason whispered.
Dick sighed, shoving the keys in his pocket. It was probably for the best.
After they had all chosen their starters and made enough small talk to where they were bored enough to talk about fish, Dick stood up.
"I'm going to find that waiter."
"Ugh, good. I didn't want to get up." Jason said as he scoot over to let his brother through.
Dick walked through the room, past the guy with the reservations who paid him no mind. Dick waited by the table he knew the waiters stopped at first. For now, there was nobody around. He sighed to himself. The cons of a rich restaurant.
"Hey-wait, isn't that Richard Grayson?"
Dick perked up at the distant voice from a table, but made no sign to show he was listening.
"Oh my god, yeah! Wow, for being raised by Bruce Wayne he is severely underdressed."
The other girl snickered. "He was a circus boy. He never learned any better. A boy of dirt and grime. Of stealing."
Dick gulped. He needed to stop listening, but he couldn't.
"Oh my god- wait- we should ask him to take a photo with us. He'll think we're just fans, and it'll be hilarious!!"
They both burst into laughter.
"Stupid Romani won't see it coming."
He had heard enough. Dick pretended to sweep the area with his gaze once more before forcing a shrug and walking back to his brothers. His mouth was dry, and he was shaking.
Jason made room for him as he sat back down. "I don't see a waiter anywhere? Did you just talk to an invisible one?"
Dick shook his head, unable to form words. He inhaled, preparing to speak.
"Jay, there's some ladies-"
Just as Jason set his drink down-listening-, the said ladies came up to the table, giggling. Damian glared at them.
"Do you happen to be our waiters?"
"Damian! Be nice!" Hissed Tim from his side.
"Haha, no. We're not. We were just wondering if we could get a photo with Mr. Grayson. We're huge fans of all that you do." One of the girls said.
Jason eyed them, and then looked back at Dick, who was obviously forcing a smile.
"And what of his work, exactly, are you fans of?" He pried.
The two girls looked at each-other, flustered at the interrogation. "O-oh, well, um- we're fans of his charity work."
"There are tons of people who do charity work, why him?"
Tim and Damian had opted to staring at the interaction, curious about Jason's sudden change in tone.
"Well, we know he is the famous ward of Bruce Wayne."
Damian squinted his eyes. "We are all children of his."
"Right.. but he's the last of The Flying Graysons! Do you still perform?"
"N-no, not anymore." Dick replied.
"Oh, good."
"What the hell does that mean?" Tim snapped.
"S-she just meant that we're glad he's learned from Mr. Wayne about the upper class and left behind his dirty roots." Her friend tried backing up.
"Excuse me?" Damian barked out.
Jason stood. "Nope. Okay, we're done here. Come on, before I punch someone." He said, the last part of it under his breath.
Jason grabbed Dick's hand, yanking him away as Damian grabbed Tim's. The four brothers made it out of the restaurant. As soon as they were outside, Jason began to storm off in a new direction. They all mindlessly followed after him.
"Jason, you need to calm down.." tried Dick.
His brother turned around. "No! How could you let them talk to you that way?"
Dick fought the urge to push his brother away. The alcohol reeked.
"I didn't- I couldn't-"
Jason turned back around, storming off again. Dick sighed, slumping against the wall of a vendor's cart.
"Todd! Get back here!" Snapped Damian, chasing after him as Tim crouched beside Dick.
"Are you okay?"
Dick looked up at his brother. "Did I make Jay mad?"
Tim frowned, shaking his head. "I think he needs to cool off. He doesn't like you being treated that way is all."
Dick pulled his knees up to his chest, his mind fuzzy and distant. Tim sat beside him in quiet understanding. Bruce was right, it was good to have somebody who understood his regression.
Dickie reached over to hold onto the fabric of Tim's sleeve in comfort. His brother let him.
"Is Bubba coming back soon?" Dickie mumbled.
Tim sympathetically smiled at the little. "Soon."
They fell back into silence, listening to the bustling atmosphere around the corner. Listening to people as they ordered food made Dickie realize he was still hungry. His stomach growled, and he tucked his face into his knees, embarrassed when Tim glanced at him.
"We'll still get dinner, Dickie. Jason has to come back. You have the car keys."
Dickie pulled them out of his pocket, forgetting they were there in the first place. He fumbled with them, liking the noise they made. Footsteps pulled him from his distraction, and he looked up to find Dami and Jay.
Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. For running off and snapping. Are you okay, Dick?"
Dickie sat up on his knees and reached his arms up to his brother, beyond happy to see him again.
"Bubba!" He squealed.
Jay's expression shifted to surprise, and then guilt. "Hey puppy.. when'd you get small?" He helped Dickie up to his feet, and then Tim.
Dickie shook the keys like a rattle toy. "Bubba, 'm hungry."
"Hmm.." Tim pulled out his phone. "There's a burger joint about a block away? We can order now, pick it up, and take it home?"
"Is there vegetarian options?" Dami asked.
"Sure is."
"Okay, you guys get the food- I trust your order choices for us- and Dickie and I will wait for you in the car. Beat the ever loving shit out of anyone who tries to say anything about him."
"Jason, language!" Tim hissed.
"Sorry- Please beat the ever loving shit out of anyone who tries to say anything about Dickie."
Dickie giggled, holding Jay's hand with one hand, and jingling the keys with the other.
"Right, you guys got it." Damian said, dismissing the pair as they left.
"Okay, puppy. Ready to go sit in the car!?"
Dickie nodded, happy to spend time with his brother.
The little sat in the car, upset that the keys had been taken from him to start the car, but entertained with the toy flip phone Jay had bought for him. It was unnoticed to the little, but while he picked a toy, Jason was glaring at the vendor, wordlessly threatening him if he decided to say anything.
Dickie clicked the buttons on the phone, enjoying the beeping noise it made. He held the phone up to Jay.
"Bubba! Bubba! Is the president!" He whisper yelled.
"Oh!" Jay coughed, clearing his throat before he took the phone. "Hello? Mr. President?"
Dickie giggled and kicked his feet.
"Ah! Yes! Dickie is with me, Mr. President."
The little leaned forward, curious. "What he saying?" He whispered.
Jay frowned. "You have a secret mission for me?"
He turned away from Dickie, deep in conversation. The little tugged at his sleeve.
"Bubbaaaa... what he saying??" He whined.
"I have to tickle him? But why?" A pause. "Okay! Okay, I won't question it. You can count on me, Mr. President."
Jay pressed a button, signifying he hung up. He turned to Dickie, instantly reaching over to tickle the boy.
The little squealed and pushed himself away, laughing.
"Stop!" He wheezed, laughing. "Bubba! Stop!"
Jay ceased, grinning mischievously. Dickie giggled, snatching the toy phone back. He pressed some buttons and then held the phone up to his ear.
"Mister Police? Yes, my bubba Jay Jay is working for the evil president. Get him!"
Dickie looked over at Jay, who begun to thrash in his seat.
"Oh no! Not again!"
Dickie giggled and then yawned.
"Timbee and Dami coming back soon?" The little asked.
Jay took off his jacket, resting it on the little.
"They'll be back soon. Go ahead and take a nap, pup. You'll need the energy to eat your yummy burger when they come back."
Dickie nodded, curling up against the car seat and pulling Jay's jacket closer.