Chapter Text
Birdarangs swarmed through the air, slicing through anything that dared get in their way. Dickie’s taunts and jeers more plentiful than the weapons. His words ringing through the air and annoyingly worming into Jason’s heart.
Red Hood sat atop the building adjacent to the fight, not quite ready to reveal his presence. One leg hanging over the ledge and resting against the glass. The other was bent against his chest as the once-dead man rested his forearm against his knee and leaned on it. Toxic green eyes survey the battle.
In the pauses of the battle, Demon-brat keeps reaching for a sword and occasionally glancing and scoffing at Dickie-bird’s escrima sticks, envy clear in his gaze. No doubt missing the sword he’d grown up with.
Dickie-bird, meanwhile, has a smile drawn on his face. There were elevated platforms on the roof, air conditioning units, a pole, for reasons Jason wasn’t quite sure, maybe for hanging up clothes?, and a handful of table sets.
The bird in question launches himself from platform to platform, twirling in the air as though he were weightless. Laughs Jason hasn’t heard in years sing through the air.
His heart warms a little seeing his older brother enjoy himself. There was once a time his laugh came as easily as water flows through pipes. When Jason…left, it was rare to hear that iconic laugh. Anything the second Robin was privy to hear had been grating, striking fear in his body at the threat threat threat.
Nightwing continues to flip around his opponents, seemingly teleporting from one position to the next. In the space between launching and landing, three masked men have been unarmed and lay motionless on the ground. Despite himself, Jason feels a touch of pride.
The third bird on the rooftop is slightly more choppy than Jason’s older brother, where Dick’s poses are acrobatic, Replacement’s are more karate, and occasionally he swings a bo staff to give himself more space and time to breathe.
The three finally clear the rooftop. Bodies twitching and tied up, words of congratulations fill the air. Dickie-bird’s eyes meet his. Shock painting itself in the elder’s eyes and twisting his features. Jason snorts and merely waves.
Big-bird takes a step back, eliciting a response from Timbo and Demon-brat. Now they’re all looking at Jason. Great.
On the one hand, he could just leave. But on the other, a chance to mess with Dickie!
Choosing the correct option, he grapples across the gap in buildings, rolling to break the fall.
“What Up Dick?” Flat and dry.
Dickie recoils in an instant. Taking three steps back, his face went through all five stages of grief in an instant. Damian looks ready to start killing and Tim has a thoughtful look on his face, clearly analyzing Jason.
“Yo, Dick, ya giving me the silent treatment?”
Oh, Jason was having fun. It really helps that Dick’s name is an insult, meaning plausible deniability and all that shit.
If Dickie had played it more casually, he definitely could have passed it as an insult. But his reaction! It was enough to make Jason smile beneath the red hood. It’s always a great time when he gets to torment his older brother, younger brother quota fulfilled.
Demon-brat goes to launch himself at Jason, but he whips his hand forward, grabbing his cape and holding him like a kitten.
Turning his entire head to stare at the creature in his arms, fervently struggling to escape and spouting enough curses to give a deadman a heart attack. As it was, Jason had been there, done that, and was left unaffected.
In a show of genius, stupidity, or perhaps elder brother requirements, he balls his empty fist and uses his thumb to point at the struggling 12 year old. “Feisty little thing”
Oh this was brilliant! He barely held back his snickers. Timbo was moving his entire head, darting between Big-bird, Damian who had redoubled his efforts and Dickie who looks like he’s seen a ghost. Rude, Jason’s not a ghost, he’s a zombie. There’s a difference, elder brother.
Taking the stillness in stride (completely ignoring all the frantic motion), "you look a little pale, though not as pale as I once was, let me assure you. Here's a tip, never visit warehouses in Qurac, it's impossibly easy to get trapped inside." Dick and Tim wince, clearly noticing the reference to where the last Robin died. Damian continues to struggle.
"Ahh what's with the stillness, never been called a dick before?" The questioning tone is more an accusation, a threat. Screw him, Jason's gonna tease big-bird all he wants.
"No, no, I have, I assure you." His brother manages to choke out. Huh, you'd think Jason was torturing him or something. The conversation lulls to a stop.
Growing restless and bored, Red Hood offers up, “Hmm, why Dick can you do a quadrouple summersault?”
A horrified look crosses Dickie’s face. Jason laughs, a poor imitations of his brother’s but a laugh nonetheless, and it wasn’t disturbingly creepy, so he’ll take that as a win.
Timbo’s face snaps into understanding and shock, Pretender was always smart.
Dickie, meanwhile, sputters. He’s been through this once before, knows his signature move that gave him away as Robin before he’d even been the vigilante for even a week.
Jason just does the triple axel, with a floundering Damian still in his hands.
“You absolute imbecile! You could have knocked me off the side of the building with that pointless stunt! Admit your wrongdoings!”
“Nah. Anway, I did the first half, Dick. Want to do the second?” He was just throwing Dickie’s name around as much as possible. Face twisting into a delighted smile at the growing despair on his face. Replacement is now looking at him with respect, clearly trying to figure out what makes him tick.
Good. This’ll be a fun week.
He turns to go, but wants to fuck with Big-bird one more time.
Tossing “I am the bloodson of Talia Al-Gool, listen to me you underhanded cretin” back to his brother, he leaves with “See ya later, Dickie”.
Dickie pauses for a good few moments, long enough for Jason to grab his grappling gun, shoot it off and begin running towards the side of the building. Timbo and Demon-child make no move to come after him. Dick lets out an ear shattering whine.
Tomorrow, tomorrow he’ll come back.