Work Text:
"A pod person."
"Jason… stop"
"Clayface, perhaps."
"Damian, no."
"Mind control."
"Magic." Damian looks around and glares at someone until they change course to walk away from them.
"You guys, st—" Dick tries again but Jason barrels over him, "Alternate universe Tim Drake got swapped with our own."
"Hmm…" Damian, squinting at Tim who was halfway across the room shaking hands with someone with an easy smile on his face, shoots back with, "amnesia."
"Enough!" Dick grabs both their arms and hisses quietly. "What is wrong with you two?"
Jason shakes him off and barely keeps himself from frowning when he notices no less than two people staring. "Us? What's wrong with us ? Look at Timbit over there and see what's wrong with him!"
The charity gala is an important one. It's the only one Bruce throws that Jason is willing to go to ever since he came back.
The Annual Wayne Charity Gala.
Separate from the "Annual Wayne Gala" of course. Both of them full of history in how far back it goes and thrown every year no matter where Bruce was or how injured. The charity is more than a boring rich people party to flaunt wealth for no reason though so… Jason comes.
One place Bruce’s kids always agreed to keep destruction to a minimum.
"There's nothing wrong with Tim!" Dick squints at Tim too.
That doesn't mean this freaks Jason out any less every time.
"Amnesiac pod person." Damian throws in with a glance towards the vegan hor d'oeuvres.
"Brain control, amnesia, then thrown across the multiverse."
"Stop! He’s just doing what he does at a gala!" They all look back at Tim who has moved onto another older businessman and is listening with a small smile and even smaller sips of champagne.
"Dickie, he never smiles that much. He's willingly interacting with business people." Jason sees Tim shake the hand of Mrs. Poirot and laugh at something she said.
"Drake is clearly possessed. Todd, do something about it."
"What do you expect me to do, brat?" Jason glares down at Damian who isn't even looking at him, just glaring himself at anyone trying to come their way to strike up a conversation.
"You have those swords of yours. Do something."
"He is not cutting up Tim!" Dick leans down to whisper-yell and Damian scowls as he sips on his juice.
"Anyway, whatever is going on with Timberlina isn't evil. The all-blades aren't coming out." Jason didn't actually try but he says it anyway just to watch Dick turn red and his eyebrow twitch.
"Jason! You are not cutting up Tim !"
"Obviously. I just said I couldn't get the swords out."
"Keep up, Grayson."
"Yeah. Keep up, Dick."
"You both — I can’t even — argh!" Dick throws his face in his hands making a loud smack noise and Jason shares a quick smirk with Damian. Dick stands up, straightens his suit, and turns on his heel with a smile to march in the direction of Tim.
Jason takes a sip of his drink.
Damian wanders off to the hor d'oeuvres to gather some vegan options and Jason keeps a stray eye on him even as he watches Dick skillfully interject himself into Tim’s conversation. In no time flat Dick is dragging Tim over to Jason and keeping him there with an arm around the shoulders.
“What’s going on?” Tim asks with a small smile towards where Mr. Mercer was trying to get their attention.
“You’re freaking Jason and Damian out.”
“I’m not freaked out.” Jason denies even as he glares down a fast approaching Mr. Mercer.
“At least lie better, Grayson.” Damian speaks up from behind Dick and Jason bites back a smirk at the way Dick and Tim jump. Jason watches Damian pop something in his mouth and chew before blandly eyeing Tim up and down, “I was not ‘freaked out’ but amazed he could act human.”
“Wow. Thanks. I even dressed in my best suit for this.”
“I think you mean Alfred picked out your best suit for this.” Jason can’t help but quip back because even he knows they’re all five shades shy of functional without Alfred around.
“Yeah, but I dressed myself with my own two hands.” Tim glares back and Jason has to snort at the image of Tim flopping around as Alfred tugs the suit onto him. Damian pushes Tim to the side to stand by Dick and looks up with a, “Grayson, the food here is appalling.”
Tim sighs and Dick gives a small smile as he pats the brat on the shoulder. Jason eyes the room, half-heartedly listening to Dick promise Damian proper food as soon as this whole thing was done.
“I have to go talk to Mr. Mercer,” Tim interjects, “You guys should try to mingle too.”
Just as Tim is about to walk away Jason whips out an arm to drag Tim closer, locking an arm around his shoulders that threatens to turn into a headlock. “You’re not going anywhere, Timbo.”
“Jason!” Tim squirms and tries his best to get away without drawing as much attention. A moot point all things considered. One Wayne draws attention but four Waynes together is a lost cause in subterfuge. “Jason, let go!”
An elbow flies into his gut and Jason swallows a grunt and tightens his arm.
“Seriously, Jason! You’re going to wrinkle the suit!” Another elbow plants itself into his gut and Jason brings his other arm closer, tilts his drink precariously close to Tim’s arm, and watches as Tim freezes with a grin on his face.
“Jason, let him go. People are staring.” He keeps eye contact with Dick, not giving an inch with a newly struggling Tim.
Damian scoffs, crosses his arms, and somehow manages to look down his nose while looking up at Jason and Tim. “Stop disgracing yourselves. Father will hear about this if it lasts any longer.”
“Whatever,” Jason lets Tim go while keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t run off, “don’t act like you want him to go around and do his thing again.”
“Guys, seriously, we need to calm down now. I see Alfred watching us.” Dick hisses between his teeth as he smiles and they all immediately stand up straight to look around. They spot Alfred standing by the door that leads to the hallway to the kitchens eyeing them with the Eyebrow of Doom and cringe as one.
“It’s Drake’s fault.” Damian bursts out despite the fact that everyone in this group wasn’t pointing fingers in the first place and Alfred is across the room.
“I wasn’t even doing anything! I was mingling!” Tim defends himself reflexively and Jason can see Alfred’s lips pinch together. He reaches out to swat at the two boys but stops himself given that he’s in full view of Alfred and instead resorts to hissing, “Shut up! Alfred is still watching!”
Tim and Damian jerk upright from where they had leaned towards each other and look away, notably far away from the door that Alfred is by, and they all just stand there sipping their respective drinks in silence.
“I was mingling.” Tim grits out again when a quick glance shows that Alfred disappeared. “The ones causing a problem were you three.”
“Like I said, Tim. You were freaking them out.” Dick tries to calm him down but it doesn’t help and Jason would laugh if he wasn’t busy trying to defend his honor while guiding his brothers as subtly as he can away from the approaching group of Mrs. Hulsor and Co.
Dick quickly notices Mrs. Hulsor and her possy and shuffles along quicker with a hand on Damian’s arm. Guiding all of them through the crowds and into another area of the room for them to stand and take up room.
“I wasn’t freaked out! It’s just weird!” Jason leans over to grab Tim when it looks like he wants to turn around to go to someone who calls out for them instead of ignoring them like the rest of the mentally sane brothers. Decides to bodily drag Tim into the middle of their circle and block him away from the rest of the party.
“I was doing what I was supposed to be doing , which, coincidentally, is what you are supposed to be doing too!” Tim tries to brush past Damian but the brat just steps in his way.
“Pod person,” Damian says right to Tim’s face.
“What? What the fu— what did you just say?” Tim’s jaw actually drops and Damian looks way too proud of himself.
“If you were unable to hear that then you are a poor imitation, pod person. I would say you already are.”
Tim glances around and woodenly turns to Dick and points to Damian. “That was a compliment, right? I mean… kind of a compliment? A half compliment?”
Dick’s laugh hides the snap of teeth as Damian tries to bite Tim’s finger off. Jason can’t even say anything, he doesn’t even know what Tim was expecting pointing his finger at the brat like that.
“Don’t say such vile things!” Damian hisses and pulls out a steak knife from his sleeve to slash at Tim before promptly getting it confiscated by Dick who snatches it out of his hand.
“ No cutting up Tim ! What is so hard to understand about that!”
“I imagine it’s the ‘no cutting up’ attached with ‘Tim’, Dick.” Tim deadpans from safely behind Dick. Jason laughs and Tim glances over before smoothly coming out from behind Dick to skirt around Jason and smile that fake smile he’s had all evening. “Mr. Mercer, good evening.”
Dick smiles brightly and holds Damian tightly to his side while Jason schools his features before turning around. Mr. Edward Mercer was a businessman from Bludhaven who came over to Gotham for every gala. There were memories of attending galas as a child where Mr. Mercer never spared him a second glance unless he was standing by Bruce.
A man who cared more for status and wealth than anything.
“Mr. Drake, Mr. Grayson, Mr. Todd, Mr. Wayne.” Jason notably did not crush the guy’s hand when they shook hands and he felt like he deserved some kind of award for it. Mr. Mercer turned toward Tim and asked, “It is still Mr. Drake right?”
Tim smiled lightly and chuckled with an easy, “That depends on the type of conversation, Mr. Mercer.”
“Right.” Jason didn’t miss the way the guy’s eyes flicked toward them and the way he smirked as he lifted his glass to take a sip of his drink. He doubted his brothers did either. “I must say, it’s been delightful to see you come out of your shell these last few years you’ve been with the Wayne’s.”
“Pardon me? I’m not sure I’m quite understanding you.” Tim stated but his voice was tight and his hand was clutching his glass with a bit more force than earlier. Jason shifted to stand closer and Dick let go of Damian to stand on the other side while Damian moved to stand behind them all.
Tim seemed more uncomfortable than he had been all night.
“Oh, well you seem so much more… comfortable with the Wayne’s. You must have felt so stifled as a child. You seem so much more free.” Mr. Mercer smiled a smile that was not unkind but raised Jason’s hackles anyway. It didn’t help that next to him Tim was as stiff as a plank and barely even breathing.
“I think you’ll find, Mr. Mercer, that going from an only child to a middle child will do that to most anyone. Though I’m sure you understand, coming from a large family yourself, as separated as you all are.” Tim’s voice was frosty and Mr. Mercer couldn’t hide his frown at that last comment. “And you’d do well to refrain from making any ill comments on my childhood. My parents were still my parents and Drake Industries is just one of the things I grew up inheriting from them.”
Mr. Mercer flinched and Jason recalled that the man in front of them still had business deals with Drake Industries.
“Mr. Drake, I wa—”
“Mr. Drake-Wayne.” Tim cuts him off. He holds eye contact with Mr. Mercer for a long second before taking a long sip of his drink and continuing, “It’s Mr. Drake-Wayne.” The ‘ to you ’ goes unsaid.
“Mr. Drake-Wayne,” he grits out, “I didn’t mean any offense, of course. I ju—”
“Of course.” Tim interrupts again.
“Of course. I just thought I’d come by to say hello.”
“I see. Hello.” Tim isn’t smiling anymore and Jason shifts even closer, his shoulder brushing Tim’s. Dick and Damian converge closer and Jason feels Damian's tap-tap of fingers letting them know he's at their back. He’s pretty sure the guy just insulted Tim but Jason’s not about to step into a fight he can’t find his way around when it seems handled. He can end it though.
“Goodbye.” Everyone’s head snaps towards him and he has to fight not to bristle from the attention, keeping it on the snot-nosed asshole in front of him.
“Excuse me?”
“You came to say hi to Tim here, you said it. Bye.” Jason shifts even closer and shoves Tim behind him just the slightest bit before angling his body in a way that shows that the guy is dismissed. Jason hears chuckling coming from Dick, scoffing from Damian, the smallest of sighs from Tim, and frustrated mutterings from the guy now behind him.
Jason doesn’t catch it all but he does hear bits and pieces of it between the noises his brothers are making and he isn’t really all that surprised or offended. He’s heard it a dozen times before and he’ll hear it a dozen times more.
“... Crime Alley brat… no manners… no idea what Wayne was thinking… should have stayed gone.” And suddenly Dick and Damian are pushing past him to get in the guy’s face and Tim is pushing his drink into Jason’s hand leaving Jason with no free hands to grasp at anyone.
“What did you just say?” Dick grits out, his pretty boy looks twisted up in anger.
“Say that again you half-witted moron.” Damian’s hands are twitching towards his pockets and Jason is thinking of just throwing the glasses on the ground to reach for him because Dick and Tim don’t seem to be stopping him.
“I’d ask you to repeat that but I’m sure I just heard you call my brother a Crime Alley brat with no manners and wonder why Bruce even bothered to adopt him while wishing he stayed gone, Mr. Mercer.” Tim is standing in front of him now, roles reversed, and Jason still has full view of Mr. Mercer’s face as it loses its color due to being taller than all of them.
There’s a group of people around them staring.
“Well — I — You can’t prove anything. I can’t believe this blatant disrespect.” Mr. Mercer says as he steps back and raises his voice, garnering more attention. Jason would like to disappear back into his coffin now, please.
“Right. Let’s go.” Trying to shove Tim’s drink back into his hand Jason tries to shove his brothers along because he really has heard all this before and it’s not likely to stop.
“I demand an apology.” Mr. Mercer practically shouts above the music and half the room turns to look.
“Screw you, he’s not giving you an apology.” Dick’s face is flattening out into rage and Damian puffs up in indignation. “I demand you give Todd an apology instead.”
“I wasn’t talking about him,” Mr. Mercer says with a smirk, he points at Tim, “I was talking about Mr. Drake- Wayne .” He says ‘Wayne’ like some kind of curse and Jason finally shoves both the drinks into Tim’s hands and shoves Tim behind his larger frame again.
“Fuck you. He’s not giving you jack shit.”
All the fancy people around him titter and gasp at his language but Jason doesn’t care. Jason had to stand there as this man insulted his brother right to his face and now this.
“I won’t stand for th—”
“Then sit,” Damian says. He even points to the ground at the man's feet and Jason smiles, all teeth, and flexes his hands. Ready to show the man the way down.
“You little brat!” Mr. Mercer growls out, red in the face as people whisper around them.
“I’d imagine that’s Mr. Brat-Wayne to you, Mr. Mercer.” Dick cuts in — smile gone and face as flat as his voice — and moves to stand in front of them all.
Jason looks around and spots Bruce cutting through the crowd to come to them and looks behind him at Tim who seems to be trying to disappear with how still and silent he is. Turns around again to see Dick getting back in Mr. Mercer’s face while holding Damian back with one hand, though with visibly less restraint every passing second.
Jason makes a decision.
As soon as Bruce manages to break through the crowd, Jason turns to Bruce and whips out the one word that lets him win any argument.
“Dad!”
Bruce freezes midstep and almost trips, Dick and Damian stop yelling long enough to turn around, and Tim unfreezes and stares.
“Jaylad?” Bruce’s voice is soft and curious and worried and Jason is feeling victorious already.
“Dad, Mr. Mercer was being rude.” Jason points at him just in case Bruce doesn’t know who he’s talking about or he decided to get a case of face blindness.
Bruce turns to look at Mr. Mercer with a frown. Jason is already fighting a smirk. Dick, Damian, and Tim are all staring at Jason as if he’s some meta that managed to hide under their noses this entire time.
“Was he now?”
“Yeah. He said some shit to Timmy about how he was so much nicer when he was with his parents because he seems so much more out of control now.” That wasn’t exactly what was said but it was what was implied so it’s what Jason’s going with.
The frown turns into a glare and it’s only a few degrees short of Batman.
Mr. Mercer backs away with his face red. “That’s not what was said at all! The statements are being taken out of context!”
Jason smirks, all teeth and Red Hood ruthlessness, and hits him with the kill shot. “Oh? Okay. But I’m sure I didn’t misunderstand you when you said I was a Crime Alley brat with no manners and how you didn’t understand how my dad adopted me. My brothers heard all that too.”
"He said Jason should have stayed gone, Bruce." Dick pipes up with a vicious look that fits Nightwing more than Dick Grayson.
Bruce’s glare is icy and he walks to stand in front of Mr. Mercer to be between him and his kids.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Mercer. You’re not welcome in my home anymore.”
“Mr. Wayne!”
“Now, please, before I have you escorted off. I won’t tolerate my children being treated in such a way. Much less in their own home.”
Jason holds his hand out by his side and Damian gives him a subtle high-five, always one for taking wins wherever he can take it. Shoots a smirk to Dick who winks back because if Jason learned to utilize this skill from anyone it was Dick. Glances at Tim who seems stuck between angry and irritated.
They all watch as Mr. Mercer slams his glass down on a table and storms out. Bruce sighs before apologizing to the crowd for the disruption and herding his children out a side door and into a long hallway before getting them into a closed room.
Damian is complaining the entire time to Dick and Tim about something or another. At one point it’s about how Tim should have ‘cut all ties to that infernal man’s company, what weren’t you thinking of, Drake?’ and all Tim does is sigh before explaining that he can’t just end a business contract because the guy was rude. What he can do, though, is not renew the contract next time although it does no good to announce that right now and give him time to prepare new business prospects.
Damian goes quiet after that giving Dick time to nudge Tim this way and that while asking if he’s okay, is he really okay, it’s fine to admit if he isn’t and Dick’s sorry they didn’t jump in sooner they just didn’t know if they could what with the business stuff and all. Tim takes it all in stride with a steady stream of reassurances that he’s fine, yes he’s sure he’s fine, it’s okay that they didn’t jump in sooner in fact he would have rather they didn’t at all but it’s fine.
Meanwhile, Jason walks into that room, hears the door close, and wants to jump out the window already.
“Jaylad —” Yeah the window was looking mighty good.
“You know, Tim is having a pretty shitty night. Let’s focus on that.” Jason brushes past Bruce’s reaching hand toward Tim who raises an eyebrow and says, “Actually I was having a pretty decent night until you guys interrupted it claiming I was a pod person.”
Just for that Jason holds out a hand and tries to call the all-blades.
It doesn’t work, obviously, but it’s the effort that counts.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Tim asks.
“Trying to see if you’re some evil devil thing I can chop up with my magical swords.”
“Jason…” Bruce’s exasperation is like music to his ears, it really is some days. Today is one of those days.
“Hey, Bruce?”
“Yes, Jason?” Bruce answers with a sigh as if he knows he’s setting himself up for something.
“Good news. Timbit isn’t some sort of evil devil thing. That doesn’t count out Clayface, dimension-hopping, amnesia, pod people, magic, or a number of other things.” Jason finishes his statement with spirit fingers and Dick snorts.
“What?”
“Yeah. That’s what I want to know too.” Tim looks confused. Not a good point for the amnesia.
“Well, you see. We wer—”
“Wait.” Bruce holds up a hand to cut Dick off and then leans against the door for a bit before standing up again. “Is this a serious thing or just one of your sibling things?”
Jason shares a look between Dick and Damian.
“It isn't not a serious thing, Father.” Damian tries and Bruce’s lips twitch.
“Okay… I’m going back out there. Have a good night.” Bruce reaches for the door and leaves with a parting, “I’ll see you boys in the morning.”
The faint music filtering through the thick wooden doors are the only sounds for a while before Tim flops down onto a sofa.
"Okay, what the hell was that about?" He is very clearly not talking about Mr. Mercer.
Jason stares at a corner of the room instead of his brothers.
"You were freaking Jason and Damian out." Dick finally says.
"So you keep saying but I still don't know what you mean." Tim says at the same time Damian and Jason try to defend themselves which just results in a cacophony of noise. When it all dies down Tim looks between everyone for a few seconds before slowly opening his mouth, "Right… anyway. I still don't know what that means so you're going to have to do better than that."
"They were freaked out at your whole gala persona thing. To be honest you always freak them out," Jason and Damian try to defend themselves again but Dick just screams over them, "because they barely went to galas with you before and aren't used to it!"
"I'm fucking fine with the kid!"
"We're like five years apart."
"Sure, kid, little baby, toddler. I'm fine with the infant." Jason dodges a stray book that had been left on a side table. "Hey! Respect the literature!"
"Yes, Drake, respect things more intelligent than you."
Damian dodges a paperweight that crashes loudly into a corner of the room and scuffs the floor.
"Guys! The floor! Alfred's going to kill us!" Dick runs to the opposite corner from the mark, ditching his damn brothers and Jason eyes the window again.
"It wasn't me. I didn’t do anything."
"Oh fuck all of you!" Tim says, distressed, "Where’s the fucking support now?"
"Yeah, no. You're on your own for this." Jason inches towards the window and glances out of it. Damian is staring at the scuff and then the door as if he’s considering the merits of braving the crowd again.
"Guys!" Tim is trying to scuff away the mark with the bottom of his shoe and everyone freezes when footsteps pass by outside the door. No one moves until the footsteps disappear. "Guys! Seriously!" Tim hisses.
Jason eyes the outside of the window again and decides mercy shall be given.
"You know, I think if we scale this wall we can make it to Bruce's office and get into the cave." Everyone pauses for all of two seconds before scrambling for the window.
"Move!"
Dick scrambles out first followed by the kids and Jason closes the window behind him. They go slow to keep an eye out for guests and workers in the windows and the back lawn. Eventually, they make it to Bruce's office and Jason finds a good perch to brace himself on to let Damian lean on Jason while shimmying open the window.
Dick goes inside first and gets started on opening the entrance to the cave while everyone else files in and they race inside laughing, their voices echoing strangely in the stone formations.
Loosening his tie, Tim slouches in front of the batcomputer looking more like himself despite the suit and something in Jason unravels. The thing is this: Jason knows the look of a kid trying their best to be what their parents can love. Jason knows the actions of a kid willing to contort themselves into someone so far from who they are that they end up a stranger just to get a single nod of approval.
This isn't his conversation to have though.
Instead, he goes over to rip the tie off of Tim the rest of the way and twists it around his hand to slap Tim with the ends of it. He laughs as Tim surges forward in anger and lets Tim chase him to the training mats before chucking his own tie and turning to get knocked on his ass in a tackle so vicious it knocks the breath out of his lungs.
“Hey! Shoes off the mats!” Dick’s voice rises above Jason’s lungs working to get their rhythm back.
Jason sucks in slow and deep breaths while watching Tim circle him on the mat, kicking his shoes off at the edge of it. Sits up and tosses his shoes and jacket off to the side when he can breathe properly again.
“Best of?” He hears Dick ask while matching Tim’s steps, almost misses Damian’s response of, “First win. Five patrols. I call Todd.”
Jason ducks under a kick, grabs the ankle, and goes to throw Tim over his shoulder. Has to let go when Tim twists out of the grip and drops down to try and sweep his legs out from under him.
“Really? Jay just got his breath knocked out of him. Okay, five on Tim.”
The punch Jason throws gets blocked and Jason twists around Tim, using the split second to get a hand around Tim’s neck as he twists to follow to try and bring Tim's face down on Jason’s knee. Tim manages to block and jerk his way out of the attack and land a hit on Jason’s side in the meantime.
“Todd, if you lose I will make you regret ever coming back to Gotham.”
“Dami!”
“Grayson.”
Jason manages to land a hit that was a bit too high to be a kidney shot but still hard enough to do damage with his bulk in the silence that followed. Tim dropped to a knee but barely faltered before sweeping around and flipping over to aim a kick straight at his face while jumping back up. Jason barely got his guard up in time while ducking and his arms felt every inch of that impact. The hit to his ribs after that wasn’t a love tap either.
“Tim! If you lose to Jason you’re going to be splitting the patrols I’m taking over from Damian!”
Tim gets his arms around Jason in a chokehold and it’s the only reason Jason hears the breathless, “As if.”
Grimacing around a smile and easing a hand through the hold to force his way free and flip Tim over, he takes manages a quick chuckle and his own murmured, “Fucking lazy ass.”
It gets a breathless laugh out of Tim even as Jason bats away a punch aimed at his nose and Jason shoulders Tim in the chest to knock him off balance before punching him straight in the solar plexus. Tim’s breath gets forced out of him without any armor to disperse the hit and he goes down on his knees. Jason flips over Tim’s shoulders and puts him in a sleeper hold, not wasting any time.
The tap-tap-tap on his arm comes in time with Dick’s groan of despair.
“No! Five patrols!”
Jason watches Dick flop face down onto the training mats while helping Tim up.
“I shall collect one of my patrols tomorrow.” Damian says over Dick’s exaggerated wailing which only grows louder.
Tim and Jason ignore both the wailing and the gloating coming from Dick and Damian to collect their shoes and jackets.
“That was good, if you’d had your staff I would have been on my ass.” Jason knows his strengths and fighting with a staff is not one of them. Fight him with a fist or a gun or even a sword, but a staff was never one of his best weapons.
“You don’t have to try to make me feel better, Jason.” Tim says, a bit shortly.
“When do I ever?” Tossing a bottle of water to Tim he watches Tim frown while drinking. “Tim.” Tim’s eyes flash to meet his at this almost rare moment of Jason saying his name, “I’m saying, if you had your staff, if we both had our weapons, you would have had me on my ass.”
The crinkle of Tim fiddling with his water bottle fills the open space between them before Tim sighs, “Maybe. Your guard was weak in the middle, you need to utilize your flexibility more, you shouldn’t rely on your bulk so much, and you’re too used to either fighting from a distance or fighting in close range, you should practice fighting with a staff to get that middle distance.”
Jason fights a smirk as Tim starts rambling about what they could both fix and improve and analyzing that short spar. Dick cartwheels over like a maniac who doesn’t know what walking is and leaps onto Jason’s back who barely staggers.
“You guys could always practice more with the escrima! I could help you!”
“Those are a bit too close, I think Jason could stand to develop fighting with something longer than that.”
Damian appears like a wraith behind them all, startling them with a, “He could always improve his skill with the sword. It’s shameful how he barely trains.”
Trying to ignore his ringing ear from Dick screaming and trying to physically calm his pounding heartbeat to keep Dick from possibly hearing it, he turns to face Damian and hopes it wasn’t as jerky as it felt.
“I trained plenty, I do train plenty, and I do well with it. I have swords. I have magical swords . They don’t just give magical swords to people who don’t know how to wield them, brat.”
Tim is off to the side looking like his soul left his body and maybe Damian scaring them was what made his over-caffeinated heart finally give out.
“You’ve been neglecting your sword training for other things, Todd.” Damian sniffs at him and Jason decides he’s had enough of this and shifts Dick around to throw him at Damian for lack of anything else.
“Jason!” Dick screams at him as he flies through the air toward the training mats while Damian dodges.
“Todd.” Damian says with a bored expression after having dodged a whole person.
“Jay! How could you do that to me!” Dick says while scrambling up safely from the mats.
“Take it personally. There wasn’t anything else to throw at the brat.”
“Wasn’t anything else to thr— Jason!”
“That’s my name.”
“Th—”
Dick gets cut off by the sound of a throat clearing that causes all of them to shoot up. Turning around they see that Alfred is standing by the stairs with a small frown and everyone shuffles in place.
“Hey, Alf.” Dick murmurs.
Alfred glances across all of them before seeming to come to a decision and instead asks, “What are you all doing here? I believe there is a gala still going on?”
Jason eyes Tim, Damian, and Dick before staying quiet.
“Bruce said that we could skip the rest of the night.” Dick speaks up with a small smile, unsure in the face of Alfred’s almighty might.
“I see. Then perhaps you four would know why there is a mark on my floor in the west study? The paperweight seems to have found it’s way across the room.” Alfred’s tone is bland and Jason feels Tim freeze up next to him. Everyone makes eye contact.
“I wouldn’t know, Pennyworth, we have been in the cave since father let us leave the event.” Damian speaks up first. Head held high and maintaining eye contact. Jason feels Tim jerk a bit in surprise so he flops an arm around his shoulders to steady him before he gives the lie away.
“Yeah, Alfie, we weren’t about to stick around that place any longer than we had to. You should have heard what some of them said tonight.” Jason drawls out, “Honestly, it’s more like Bruce kicked us out.”
“Well I would say it’s more like Jason managed to get Bruce to let us escape by calling him d—” Jason kicks Dick in the shin and he cuts off with a choke, Alfred shooting a disapproving look at Jason making him mumble a half-hearted apology that Dick takes in stride before continuing. “Anyway, Jason convinced Bruce to let us escape. We came down here. Jason and Tim were sparring.”
Alfred looks at Tim who looks back at Alfred with a gleam in his eyes, “Yeah, basically. Mr. Mercer got kicked out too.”
Alfred frowns. “May I ask why?”
Jason tries to shut Tim up with a hand over his mouth but Tim slithers away and Alfred shoots him a look that stops him in his tracks.
"He said he wished Jason stayed gone." Tim states into a cave where his brothers are still and silent. The one time he would prefer them to make a damn scene and they decide to play wallflowers.
Alfred’s eyes narrow. "I see."
"He said Tim was out of control ever since he came to live with us." Dick says from where he's leaning on the desk of the batcomputer.
Alfred's Eyebrow of Doom goes up. "I see. Well, I'm sure we'll be reviewing our guest lists more diligently from now on."
Alfred speak for, ' That asshole is never coming back if I can help it. And I can. '
"Well then, I imagine this night off will be used for resting rather than running around on rooftops."
"Five hours?" Dick asks like a child begging for five more minutes on their game before bed. Alfred doesn't even bother responding. "Three hours?"
Jason shares a look with Tim that is all exasperation because Alfred has already laid down the law and Dick is too tenacious for his own good but nothing will come of it tonight.
"One hour?" Dick begs and Alfred shoots a glance across their little group before huffing a small breath.
"I want to see proper warm-ups. One hour only and come right back. No exceptions."
Tim slaps Jason's side in shocked victory and Jason slaps his back in return. They all run over to the side to properly warm-up, Alfred watching them with a small smile before going back up to the gala.
Later, Jason spies Damian and Dick whispering to each other while shoving feet in shoes but he doesn't pay them any mind while doing his own weapon checks. At least not until he's getting on his bike and Damian leaves his own idling to jog over and stare up at his blank helmet.
"What?"
Robin grins — a small, quick, and sharp thing — before leaning up just the slightest bit to slap his hand smack in the middle of his helmet.
"Tag!" While Jason is still reeling from the hit, Robin books it to his bike.
Nightwing is already long gone and Red Robin is desperately running the rest of the way to his own bike as Robin screeches his way out the cave.
"Oh you fucker." Jason's distorted voice growls down the comm line, barely louder than the shred of tires as he chases Red Robin.
"Fuck off!" Red Robin yells back, "Where’s the Red solidarity?"
Jason takes a corner so sharp he can feel the heat of the cement scraping against the armor on his knees. "Down in the ground right by my empty coffin."
There’s the sharp bark of Nightwing’s laughter down the comms because Jason is nothing if not a bad influence and he’s infected Dick’s already shitty humor with his morbid one.
“Your coffin isn’t even down there anymore!” Red Robin argues but Jason just revs his motorcycle menacingly as he races down the street after him.
“That’s not the point, baby bird. That’s not the point.” And suddenly there’s the flash of NIghtwing blue in the side of his eye and Jason takes a chance to veer away to chase that color. He steers his way down a alley before reducing speed and turning on stealth mode instead, a trade-off that’s going to kill his chances at winning the game all night if he’s wrong about this.
His bike silently rushes through alleyways to burst out at a street five blocks down just in time to cut Nightwing off.
“Fucking tag, bitch.” Jason says after he forces Nightwing into a sudden stop and slaps his hand on Nightwing’s bike. Nightwing curses loudly and mutters about wasted head starts before forcing his bike around with a squeal of tires and the smell of burning rubber — those dramatics are why he needs to replace them so often — and goes off in search of someone to tag.
“You better not be around in five minutes, Hood, or I’m getting you right back!”
“You’d have to catch me on that second rate bike first.” Jason says and the jeering laughter of his brothers, along with a scandalized Nightwing reassuring his bike that it was the best, made the racing wind feel so much better. The gleaming lights streaming out of Wayne Manor were getting further and further away behind him and he had an hour to breathe in the city with his brothers.
Jason shoots past buildings, removes stealth mode, hears his bike roar under him, and wonders when the night started going so right.