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It’s fitting, Jason thinks, that it happens like this. There’s no intergalactic armada threatening to rip the world in two, no surprise visits from Talia or the rest of the League, and no evil doppelgangers from the future coming to assassinate someone.
No—instead, it happens like this:
Roy is on a solo mission out in Keystone City, where Jason suspects Wally bit off more than he could chew (again), but that’s no surprise. Jason himself has (reluctantly) teamed up with Tim for the day to hunt down a wannabe crime syndicate that stole some tech from Wayne Enterprises, and he almost feels bad for the guys—stealing from the Batman on your first attempt at making a name for yourself in the Gotham underbelly? Talk about bad luck.
So they’re both out for the day when Jason gets an alert on his phone that the fire department is en route to his apartment where his daughter is. Logically, Jason knows that Lian is fine; even though he and Roy aren’t there, it’s not like they’ve left their 4-year-old completely alone. They may be new to this whole parenting thing but they aren’t idiots.
Well, Jason isn’t.
Ever since Damian graduated from university and became the CEO of some environmental protection group (funded by WE, of course) he’s become Jason and Roy’s go-to babysitter. Even over Dick, who’s always had the most paternal temperament among them—though that’s mostly because he’s got his own kid to worry about over in Bludhaven, and Damian’s his own boss, so “business hours” are really more of a suggestion for him.
Damian’s attitude and general disdain for the human race haven’t gotten any better in the many years that Jason’s known him, but, miraculously, Lian likes Damian more than anyone else they’ve hired to babysit, and Damian refuses to let Jason pay him, so it’s a win-win.
(“If I ever stoop so low that I need handouts from you, Todd, feel free to put me out of my misery,” Damian had said after the first time Jason tried to pay him, and the topic hasn’t been brought up since.)
Jason isn’t sure if it’s the shared disregard for any and all consequences or something else, but Jason’s daughter and baby brother have a bond that even he gets jealous of sometimes. Not that he would ever tell the demon brat that.
As much as it pains him to admit it, he trusts Damian as much as he’s ever trusted anybody, at least when it comes to Lian. He knows Damian would rather stab himself in the eye with his katana than let anything happen to her.
So really—logically—Jason knows he shouldn’t panic.
Turns out, fatherhood and logic don’t really mesh well (he has no idea how Bruce has held up all these years).
Jason doesn’t even bother offering Tim any more than a quick, "Later, Timbo!" thrown over his shoulder before he hops on his bike and revs it, speeding back to his apartment faster than he has any right going in this part of the city. He’s probably alerted the gang to Tim’s position in his haste, but if Tim can’t handle a handful of newbies who think selling tech stolen from a parked truck will prove how tough they are, then he doesn’t deserve his mantle.
By the time Jason is pulling up to his street, the firefighters have managed to put the fire out, and all that remains is a plume of dark smoke blending into the dark Gotham sky and singe marks licking up the building’s façade.
He’s frantically searching through the crowd of displaced tenants and nosy onlookers for Lian and Damian and feels his blood pressure skyrocket with every second he goes without them in his sights.
He’s never been anxious on stakeouts or breaking up arms deals, yet here he is, all six feet of him sweating and blood thrumming like he’s a teenager about to ask a girl to “go steady” with him—all because he can’t see two people he’s inexplicably grown very fond of.
Just when he’s about to give up and run into the building himself, consequences be damned, he hears it:
“Papa!”
Jason turns and finds Lian, unharmed and smiling around the corner of the building where there isn’t a crowd, waving from where she’s cuddled up in the arms of—Superboy?
He rushes over and takes Lian from Jon, crushing her against his chest. A range of emotions he’s sure he’s never felt before crash over him with an overwhelming sense of relief he can only assume is from his recent plunge into fatherhood. He’s never been so happy to see someone in his life. Seriously, how does Bruce do this?
“The fire’s out,” Jon reports, “it started in the kitchen of 503—seems like the woman that lives there was heating up some soup and forgot to turn the stove off.”
503 is Mrs. Appleby, a nice enough lady but old enough that Jason’s pretty sure she could be Alfred’s mother, and is known to be absentminded when her nurses aren’t looking after her.
503 is on the other side of the building from their apartment but is only one floor below them, and Jason knows too much about fires to think one floor of separation means anything.
“Your place is mostly fine, just some smoke damage, but the fire department’s saying they don’t want anyone whose unit was damaged staying here until they can clear it all out.”
“Did they say how long?”
“The worst of them probably won’t be fixed for a month or so, but the damage to your apartment was minimal. Maybe a week or two, depending on how soon they can get started.”
“Right. Thanks, Jon, I owe you one,” Jason says, but Jon predictably waves him off.
“Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad I was here to help.”
Kents and their goody-two-shoes attitude. Jason would roll his eyes if his daughter hadn’t just been saved by said goody-two-shoes.
“Actually,” Jason starts. Now that his panic has subsided, his brain is coming back online and questions that he really should have asked before now are bubbling up. “What were you doing here? Last I checked, Bruce hasn’t rescinded his ‘no metas in Gotham’ rule, and I know you aren’t here on a case.”
Jon chokes on a laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, right, um, about that…”
Jason squints at him. He’s known Jon a long time—most of the kid’s life, which is a disturbing thought—but he’s never seen him this nervous.
“Papa,” Lian tugs on his jacket, and it’s only then that Jason realizes he’s still wearing his Red Hood getup. Oops. Jon did well getting them away from the crowd, and hopefully everyone was too shocked to notice a known criminal—well, criminal adjacent—rush onto the scene and cavort with Metropolis’ second favorite hero (the sequel can never beat the original, after all).
“What’s up, Li? You okay?”
Lian nods, and she really does look fine. Doesn’t even have any soot marks on her.
“Uncle Jon was so cool! He went whoosh and swish and flew through the door! He stopped the fire so fast,” Lian gushed.
Jon smiles sheepishly, ever the humble farm boy.
“I’m sure he did,” Jason isn’t in the habit of complimenting Superboy, but, well, he did save his daughter.
“Damian is back inside packing bags for you guys,” Jon says, and come to think of it, Jason was wondering where the gremlin had scampered off to—you know, considering he’s the one Jason actually left to babysit Lian and all. “They cleared one person per unit to go back to the less damaged apartments and get whatever you’ll need until you can come back permanently. He’s packing the basics, but if there’s anything special he needs to get, you should text him.”
Jason nods and adjusts his hold on Lian so he can pull out his phone. He’s got several missed calls—mostly from Roy, who probably got the same alert that he did, as well as Tim and Damian—and a number of texts waiting in his inbox. He ignores all of them except for Roy’s, sending him a quick message assuring him that both he and Lian are fine before he sends another one to Damian, specifying certain items he’ll need if they’re going to have to temporarily relocate.
“We’ll have to stay somewhere else for a while, kiddo,” Jason says, ruffling Lian’s hair. “You wanna visit Alfred and Grandpa Bruce?”
Lian pouts and shakes her head, tugging on Jon’s cape with a tiny hand. “I wanna stay with Uncle Dami and Uncle Jon.”
Jon’s face lights up with a bright blush, but Jason frowns.
“We might be able to talk Uncle Dami into letting us stay with him,” he says, “but Jon—”
“Uncle Jon!”
“Uncle Jon doesn’t live here. He lives in Metropolis.”
“Nuh-uh,” Lian whines, and Jon starts shushing her and prying her fingers off his cape. If he thinks he’s going to get a swift escape, he is sorely mistaken, super strength or not. “He and Uncle Dami have playdates all the time.”
Jon gives up on his escape and opts to hide his flushed face in his hands instead. Jason can practically feel the mortification rolling off of him.
“‘Playdates’?” Jason echoes, eyebrows at his hairline. “Like the ones you and Mar’i have?”
“No, silly,” Lian giggles, and Jason has the distinct feeling the entire world as he knows it is about to implode. “Like you and Daddy used to have.”
Yep, world implosion, because Jason knows exactly what Lian’s talking about.
Before he and Roy officially started dating, Jason would stop by a few nights a week for various… nighttime activities that a toddler has no business knowing about, so the next morning at breakfast, Roy would always claim Jason had just come over for a playdate.
After Jason had stayed over for a week straight last year and Lian asked how long playdates usually last, they’d finally stopped being such chicken shits about their feelings, but that’s a story for another time.
So hearing that Jason’s baby brother is having the same type of “playdates” with Superman’s son and that his daughter knows about it—has known about it, apparently—is no small piece of information.
Honestly, with how transparent Jon usually is, Jason’s surprised they managed to keep it a secret for as long as they have. He doesn’t know how long, but clearly long enough that Lian knows Jon as “Uncle Jon.”
Of course, that doesn’t even begin to cover his surprise that the gremlin’s type is apparently a walking sunbeam. He thought their friendship was strange enough, but what childhood friendship wasn’t a little odd? But this? Jason can definitely say he never saw this one coming.
As much as Jason’s brain wants to crash right now, he knows this is an opening like no other, and one he’s been waiting for for years. The demon brat’s never even talked about being romantically interested in anyone (or sexually, because Jason supposes he is technically an adult now or whatever), much less had his partner over so often they’re practically living together.
This is a golden opportunity and Jason’s just sorry no one else is here to witness it.
“That so?” he can feel the smirk take over his face as he looks back up at Jon, who's turned a shade of red Jason didn’t even know was possible. Maybe it’s a Kryptonian thing.
“Mhm!” Lian confirms, no idea what her innocent affection’s given away. “Uncle Jon always brings me dessert when I come over. Uncle Dami tells him not to, but then he smiles and calls him something.”
Jon groans in embarrassment. This was too good.
“Lian, you really don’t have to—”
“What does Uncle Dami call Uncle Jon?”
“Hibee,” she says, but shakes her head. Lian pouts in concentration and tries to repeat it, but it’s clear she’s not familiar with the word. “Haybee. Hab—”
“Habibi,” comes a deep voice from around the corner, and just a second later, the man of the hour appears.
“Oh, hey, D,” Jon croaks, face flaming.
“What’s wrong?”
Damian rushes the rest of the way over, completely missing Jason and Lian standing in front of Jon, and normally Jason would be pissed at him for not going to Lian first, but he’ll cut him some slack just this once. Damian has to check on his boyfriend, after all.
Oh man, he can’t wait to tell Dick.
Damian puts his hands over Jon’s cheeks and turns his face this way and that, inspecting every inch of exposed skin with his mouth pulled down into a tight line.
“Why are you so red? Is it from the fire? I told you you should’ve waited for me to get my suit on before you went storming in there like an amateur S.W.A.T. team.”
It’s then that Jason notices that Damian is the only one of them not in his uniform, which shocks Jason almost as much as learning he and the superbrat are dating.
“Dami, I’m fine. I put it out, didn’t I?” Jon says, reaching up to hold Damian’s hands in his own, his thumbs rubbing across Damian’s knuckles.
“After running in head first like an idiot,” Damian scowls, and Jason wonders if this is his “I’m concerned and hiding behind insults” scowl or his “you’re too stupid to be allowed oxygen” scowl.
Jon hums and leans down to plant a quick kiss on Damian’s forehead. Damian scoffs, arms crossing over his chest in indignation, but Jason can see the color rising on his cheeks.
Jason wishes he was filming this—there’s no way anyone is going to believe him when he says that Damian “heir to the demon’s head and massive pain in the ass” Wayne was blushing after getting a forehead kiss from Jonathan Kent. Maybe the demon brat is a real boy, after all.
Or maybe Jason has a concussion he doesn’t remember getting and is just imagining this. That would make more sense.
“Uncle Dami!” Lian shouts in glee, completely ruining Jason’s fun.
“Lian! How are—” Damian turns to Lian, arms open for an embrace, and freezes when he sees who’s holding her. Jason doesn’t even think he’s breathing, which is only confirmed by Jon pounding him on the back a few seconds later.
“Lian’s fine, right Lian?” Jason says, mouth hooked in a devilish grin.
“Yep! Uncle Jon was so cool, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, Damian, wasn’t Uncle Jon just so cool?”
Damian is still frozen, eyes wide and arms outstretched, so Jason takes the lead and swoops in, jostling Damian in a big, brotherly hug that Lian is all too happy to be included in. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever gotten this big of a reaction from Damian, even the time he told him they were going to eat his turkey for Thanksgiving when he was a kid.
“You and Superboy?” Jason whispers in his ear, though he’s under no illusion Jon can’t hear him. “I had no idea you were so bold, Damian. Does the man of steel know you’re screwing his son?”
Damian sucks in a quick breath and breaks out of his stupor, shoving Jason away and crossing his arms over his chest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Todd,” Damian says coldly, nose turned up at Jason like the kid has any legs to stand on right now.
“Really? No idea at all, habibi?” Jasons teases, and Damian’s left eye twitches as he flicks a look over to where Jon’s standing, face red and eyes looking anywhere but Damian. “Deny it all you want, Dames, but you know what they say: hickeys don’t lie .”
Damian scowls and wraps both hands around his neck. He glares at Jon, who sputters out “I didn’t, I swear!” before going back to avoiding eye contact.
Damian turns his glare on Jason. “You’re lying.”
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” he shrugs, Lian bumping into his shoulder with the movement, “but there wouldn’t be anything to hide if nothing was going on.”
Damian slowly lowers his hands and it’s the most of an admission of defeat that Jason is going to get from him. Jason did lie, there aren’t any hickeys on his neck, but just knowing there could be nearly sends Jason into a fit of laughter. He didn’t think Jon had it in him. Good for him.
“I wanna stay with Uncle Dami and Uncle Jon,” Lian reiterates, clutching Jason’s jacket and looking at Damian with big, pouty eyes.
Damian sighs and closes his eyes, but he’s fighting a losing battle.
“They could stay in the guest room,” Jon offers, timid in a way he hasn’t been around Jason in a long time. “Since I normally just—” he cuts off suddenly, weathering another glare from Damian, “Right. Shutting up now.”
Jason knows he must look as manic as some of their rogues with how big his grin is right now, but there is literally nothing that could be better than this. Except—
“Fine,” Damian says through gritted teeth before reaching out and taking Lian from Jason’s arms. “But change out of your uniforms first. You’ve done enough damage already, I don’t need to be seen letting Superboy and Red Hood into my apartment later. The press would have a field day.”
Jon and Jason share a quick, amused look at how put out Damian sounds before rushing off to the nearest alleyway to change back into their civilian clothes. Maybe this revelation won’t be the end of the world, after all.
“They’re dating?” Tim squawks over the group video chat Jason has them all on later that night.
He’d tried to include Damian, too, but the little shit blocked their numbers. As if that will stop Jason when he’s currently living on Damian’s (and Jon’s?) couch. Roy and Lian are in the guest bedroom, but Jason’s been relegated to the couch.
“There’s no more room for you, Todd. I hope the couch will suffice,” Damian had said earlier that night before promptly tossing Jason’s bag onto the couch (which is, admittedly, a very nice couch) and towing Jon into his (their?) bedroom by the collar of his shirt. Jon shot him a guilty look over his shoulder but made no move to interfere.
“They’re living together? Does Clark know?” Dick, ever the practical one, asks.
“I’m not sure if they’re officially living together,” Jason muses, “but it seems like Jon’s here most of the time.”
“Not that that would be hard, considering who we’re dealing with,” Tim says, taking another sip of his coffee despite the late hour.
“Lian is convinced they’re married and keeps calling him Uncle Jon. She seems just as familiar with him as she is with Dames, I don’t know how I could’ve missed the kid bringing Superboy into my apartment all this time.”
“None of us realized,” Dick says, shaking his head in disbelief. “How long do you think they’ve been dating? How long do you think they planned to hide it from us? Do they not trust us?” Dick was getting more riled the more he talked, lips pulling tighter with each question.
“It’s not about trust,” says an annoyed voice from the hallway, and a second later Damian emerges from the shadows in an oversized Superman (well, probably Superboy) shirt over his boxers.
“Aw, come on, Dami,” Dick whines over the video chat, his puppy dog eyes shining through the screen. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Tt,” Damian tuts, but comes over to the couch, kicking Jason’s legs aside to make room for himself. “It’s none of your business. Haven’t any of you ever heard of privacy?”
“Well, sure,” Dick says, “but not from each other. We’re brothers! We’re supposed to tell each other things. I told you guys when Kori and I got together.”
“You practically told the world when you guys got together, Dick,” Tim rolls his eyes. “You talked about it to anyone within hearing range for days.”
Dick huffs. “I was excited.”
“We know,” Damian says blandly.
“I told you guys about me and Roy,” Jason volunteers.
“Wrong,” Damian says.
Tim nods. “We knew even before you two were ‘official,’” he says with exaggerated air quotes. “You weren’t exactly subtle.”
“What? You guys knew?” This is an outrage! Jason can’t believe this.
“We were just so happy for you two,” Dick says. “Right guys?”
“I guess.”
“Tt.”
“Fine, whatever, so I didn’t have to tell you guys,” Jason rolls his eyes, “but that still doesn’t explain why the demon brat didn’t tell us.”
“For once you can be assured there are no conspiracy theories at work,” Damian glances at Tim, “It’s just as I said. Jonathan and I prefer our private lives to be private—a foreign concept to you imbeciles, I know—and didn’t feel the need to broadcast our relationship to the world.”
“Well, sure,” Dick says softly, if a little sad, “but we’re your family. We want to know about what’s going on in your life because we love you.”
“Well—” Jason starts, but is quickly cut off.
“If you wanted us to keep it a secret, we would have,” Dick continues.
Damian crosses his arms and scoffs, but Jason can see a light flush on his cheeks in the sparse light of the living room.
“You embarrassed of him?” Jason guesses. “Because I can totally see—”
“No,” Damian says fiercely. “Of course not. I could never be embarrassed by him.”
“Is he embarrassed by you?” Tim asks, and Jason can feel all of their hackles rise as a Big Brother™ hive mind at the idea of anyone being embarrassed by their baby brother. Superpowers or not, Jason would hunt Jonathan Kent down to the ends of the Earth if he was just stringing Damian along, and he has no doubt Dick and Tim would be right there with him.
“You really are all idiots,” Damian grouses, but Jason can see the minuscule upturn of his mouth. “No one is embarrassed by anyone here—unless we’re talking about my embarrassment from having to associate with you lot for the better part of my impressionable adolescence.”
“Aw, we made an impression on him,” Dick coos.
“Watch it, mister,” Jason says, pointing a finger, “do you kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?”
“Todd, I suggest you keep your quips to yourself if you value your spinal cord.”
“Sounds sexy. I bet I’d be way more flexible without it. Do you think it would help when Roy and I—”
Damian blanches and shoves him without remorse. “You’re disgusting.”
“What? You telling me you and Supes’ Jr don’t get it on? You aren’t doing the horizontal tango?”
More color rises to Damian’s face as he splutters, and Jason can’t believe Damian tried to deny him of this. Who knew the kid was such good teasing material?
“No hanky panky? Bow-chick-a-wow-wow? Riding the bony express?”
By now, Damian’s face is practically glowing with embarrassment, and Jason is almost expecting smoke to start billowing out of his ears like a teapot.
“Oh,” Tim says, pulling Jason’s attention away from their little glowstick, “I’m definitely stealing that last one.”
“Feel free, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”
“Come on, guys,” Dick admonishes, “quit teasing him.”
“Thank you, Grayson,” Damian wheezes, “this whole conversation is exceedingly undignified—”
“Besides, ‘rolling around in the hay’ is probably more their speed,” Dick finishes, and Jason doubles over with laughter, losing his phone between the cushions in the process. They can’t see Dick or Tim anymore, but Jason knows the call hasn’t disconnected if the hyena-level cackling is anything to go by.
“Todd! Cease this nonsense at once!”
“Sorry, Dames,” Jason says, entirely unapologetic, “but this is just too good. And it’s your fault, anyway.”
“My fault?”
“Yeah,” Tim shouts from the cushions. “If you’d told us about you guys sooner, we could’ve gotten this out of the way ages ago. Now you have to deal with it since you tried to deprive us of our brotherly duties.”
“I hardly see how that’s relevant,” Damian says, “You all have a proclivity for gossip on par with a pubescent schoolgirl.”
“You’re a—”
“Jason.”
“Right. I’m an adult.” Jason says, the last of his laughter petering out as he digs around for his phone. When he finds it, Tim and Dick have similarly sobered, but one look at Damian and Jason knows their fun is far from over; the poor kid is still as red as a firetruck.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Damian mutters.
“You’d know all about being an adult, wouldn’t you? Living with your boyfriend and everything,” Jason says.
“Jonathan isn’t living here. He can travel faster than a speeding bullet, it’s not like it’s hard for him to travel to and from Metropolis.” Damian mocks, but the unhappy twist to his mouth makes Jason think that he wishes he was.
“Do you want him to?” Dick asks, and Jason’s glad it was him, because if he didn’t ask, then Jason would have to ask, and then there’d be one less member of the Batfamily lurking in the shadows every night.
“Frivolous desires are pointless,” Damian says, using his big boy words like they’ll shield him from the truth. It's good to know some things never change.
“Why not?” Tim cuts in, “It’s like you said. The guy literally has super speed, Dami, it’s not like it’d be hard for him to get back to Metropolis even if he was living here.”
Damian pauses, head tilting like he hadn’t thought of that, and Jason knows that he’ll be seeing Jonathan Kent around a lot more in the future. And that he’ll have to start knocking when he comes over.
“So,” Dick says, “how long have you two been together?”
“At least tell us you waited ‘till the kid was legal,” Jason jokes.
“I’m insulted you would even suggest otherwise, Todd, but yes, we did not start seeing each other until after Jonathan became an adult. Turns out having the impulse regulation skills of a toddler isn’t a shared trait between us.”
“So two years then?” Tim asks, “Jon’s 20 now, right?”
“He is, but we haven’t been together that long,” Damian says, and Jason can see how his brother’s usual reticence is slowly being stripped away in the face of their sheer nosiness.
“You’ve got me on the edge of my seat,” Jason nudges him, “so, how long, then?”
Damian rolls his eyes and looks away, looking for all intents and purposes like he couldn’t care less about the situation he’s been thrown into, but Jason knows better. Has known better, really—the relationship between his brother and the youngest Kent has always been far too complex for Jason to bother trying to understand, but he knows that Damian has always had Jon in his corner, even when he didn’t have Jason or the others.
“Like most things in this world, that’s none of your business.”
“Aw, come on, Dami,” Dick wheedles and Jason can see the moment Damian gives in.
“It’s new,” Damian finally settles on, “It was a rather… unexpected development.”
“Unexpected?” Tim asks.
“What do you mean? Did the kid just plant one on you one day?” Jason says it entirely jokingly, but Damian’s darkening cheeks and narrowed eyes reveal much more than Jason could imagine.
“Of course not,” Damian tries to defend, but Jason isn’t having any of it.
“Holy shit, did you? You did, didn’t you?”
“You did what?” Dick shrieks.
“Todd, Grayson, control yourselves,” Damian grits out, but he really should know them better by now.
“No way, this is amazing,” Jason laughs. He’s going to get a cramp with how much he’s been laughing today, but it’ll totally be worth it.
“I can’t believe my baby brother is all grown up and kissing boys!” wails Dick, while Tim just stares in open-mouthed shock.
“Shut up, I am neither confirming nor denying any of your baseless, moronic theories.”
“Man, I thought we were gonna have to have a talk with the Boy Scout about keeping his hands to himself, but you’re the one we’ve gotta look out for, aren’t you?”
Damian stays silent, but Jason can practically feel him fuming from across the sofa. This is the best day of Jason’s life.
“Shit. Do we have to give him The Talk?” Jason asks the group and narrowly avoids being struck by the pillow Damian aims at his head.
“Oh, you’re right!” Dick, as Jason expected, is completely on board. Tim looks more reluctant, but that’s probably because he’s never had The Talk himself with how much of a hermit he is. No use talking about sex if you’re never getting any.
“He is not right,” Damian assures, this time nailing Jason in the temple with yet another pillow he’s pilfered from Jason’s make-do bed. “Rest assured that I have received copious information about that. Alfred and my mother ensured I was wholly prepared. Plus, I am an adult. I think I know a thing or two about sex.”
Outraged gasps sound around the room like a Greek chorus.
“Hush! ” Dick shouts, “You can’t use that word, you’re just a baby!”
“I can assure you I am not the infant of this group.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, you little—”
“Dami?” comes a sleepy voice from the hall, and both Jason and Damian swivel their heads to spot Jonathan Kent in all his late-night glory. He’s dressed in the same choice of sleepwear as Damian—an oversized T-shirt and boxers—but where Damian’s wearing the mark of the house of El across his chest, Jon’s own shirt is sporting a familiar black bat.
“Hello, Kent,” Jason says, puffing up his chest.
“Uh, hi, Jason,” Jon just tilts his head in confusion like a particularly tall puppy. Jason deflates.
“Hi, Jon!”
“Hey, Jon.”
“Hi, Dick. Hi, Tim. Is something going on? Do you need me to—”
“No,” Damian cuts in before any of them can say that yes, they absolutely do need Jon to join them right now. “Go back to bed, habibi, I’ll be back as soon as I’m done dealing with these dimwitted oafs.”
Even though Damian’s just insulted them like they aren’t even there, Jon laughs softly, and the sound is so fond that Jason almost forgets about Damian calling Jon beloved. He’s so teasing him about that later. Damian Wayne the romantic, who knew?
“‘M’kay,” Jon nods before dropping a sleepy kiss on the top of Damian’s head and bidding the rest of them goodnight. It’s a short enough interaction, but Damian doesn’t stop staring after Jon with heart eyes that almost make Jason embarrassed to be witnessing until he turns the corner and they all hear the bedroom door close.
“Aw, Dami, that was so sweet. I’m gonna cry,” Dick says with a watery smile.
“Refrain.”
Did Jason say Damian was romantic? He takes it back.
“Are we done here?” Damian asks impatiently, and none of them bother to question his sudden urgency.
“Almost. There’s just one more question we need to ask,” Tim says, and Damian visibly unclenches on the cushions beside Jason. They aren’t that bad, are they? Surely a little brotherly ribbing can’t be any worse than any of the many, many traumatizing experiences Damian has had.
“Does he make you happy, Dami?” Dick asks.
As pointless a question as it may be, Jason can’t deny his curiosity about how Damian will answer.
He saw how they acted around each other all day—first at Jason’s apartment and then at Damian’s during their temporary move-in—and Jason has never seen his brother so… at peace, before. If it was anybody else, Jason would even dare say there was an air of domesticity around the apartment while Damian and Jon made dinner for them all and took extra care to make sure Lian got her favorite utensils.
But it isn’t anybody else, it’s his grumpy little brother who he’s pretty sure can make sunflowers wilt on demand, and Jason is nosy, sue him. Even though he knows Damian’s probably going to say something like—
“I suppose Superboy is adequate.”
Something like that.
“Trust me, Dick,” Jason leers, “the demon is definitely happy, you should’ve seen them this afternoon, all concerned and touchy-feely. Or even just a few hours ago. Don’t tell me you forgot already, Dames?”
Damian can act as haughty as he wants, but Jason knows the truth. He knows it in the way that Lian doesn’t hesitate to call Jon Uncle Jon and the way that they don’t need more than a glance to communicate with each other.
And the way that Jason walked in on them eating each other’s faces when he went to go ask about the Wi-Fi password.
He didn’t get that password.
Damian’s whole body goes taut like a rubber band ready to snap, no doubt remembering the same mortifying event, and Jason has a split second to wonder if it’s really wise pushing Damian like this when Jason is currently sleeping on his couch.
“Tread lightly, Todd, I will not hesitate to seek recompense for anything you say in the next 45 seconds.”
Jason coughs and looks away. Maybe he’ll tease Damian about that later. He’d rather not wake up dangling from the roof by his toes. Again.
“You know what? I forgot what I was going to say.”
“Smart choice.”
“Well, any more life-altering secrets you guys wanna share before we let Dami get back to lover boy?” Dick asks with a laugh.
No one says anything for a moment and Jason is just about to disconnect the call when Damian’s lips pull back in a feral grin as he leans over Jason’s shoulder to look directly into the camera and say:
“Drake is dating Dowd.”
“WHAT?!”
World. Implosion. Jason’s gonna have grey hair by the time he’s 35.