Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Watch this madness, colorful charade

No one can be just like me anyway"

- Just Like Fire, P!nk

“Robin, do you copy?” Dick found himself frantically shouting into his comm. 

Everything had gone sideways in the span of just ten minutes. What started as a routine patrol had spiraled into something far more chaotic and dangerous. Out of nowhere , an unknown sorcerer had appeared, wreaking havoc in the Diamond District. The situation had become so dire that even Jason had been called in for backup.

“Yeah, sorry. I copy,” Tim stammered. In the corner of his eye, Dick saw the younger Robin narrowly dodge a beam shot from the sorcerer’s umbrella.

“Fucking hell! This was supposed to be a chill night. I was gonna take today off! But no, instead I’m here, fighting some wannabe Hagrid with an umbrella as a wand!” Jason's voice came through with his usual mix of sarcasm and irritation.

A loud laugh escaped Dick’s mouth before he could stop himself. He knew Jason was just complaining for the sake of it, mostly to annoy Bruce. But Bruce, of course, ignored Jason’s ranting and calmly handed out new orders.

“Hood, cover Robin. Nightwing, Robin, you two act as a distraction. I need to get close enough to detain the sorcerer.”

Dick echoed the others’ “Copy” and grappled over to where Tim and Jason were standing. Tim was trying to talk the sorcerer down, but it obviously wasn’t working.

The sorcerer, a middle-aged man in a black robe and a stereotypical witch hat, waved his purple umbrella with a snarl. “Shut up, little bat, and move aside.”

He fired another beam at Tim, but Jason yanked him out of the way just in time. They really needed to be more careful now, especially since the sorcerer seemed to be growing more agitated by the second.

Jason, however, didn’t seem to have gotten the memo. “Shut up, and don’t talk to him like that!” he growled back at the sorcerer.

The man sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “How touching —Red Hood protecting Robin. Weren’t you two at each other’s throats not too long ago?”

All three of them flinched. Dick wasn’t sure if he did too, but the sorcerer had hit a nerve. When Jason first reappeared as Red Hood, he had made it very clear that he despised the Bats and everything they stood for. His fights with Tim had been infamous, the hottest gossip on Gotham’s streets. 

But those days were long behind them. The rift between Jason and Tim had healed. The picture of them both passed out on the couch, cuddling after a movie marathon last night, was proof enough of that.

The sorcerer’s grin widened. “Well, if you all care about each other so much , you’re really going to love this little trick of mine!”

Before any of them could react, a bright green mist swirled around them. The second it made contact with his skin, Dick felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation. Panic surged through him for a split second, but just as quickly as it had appeared, the mist dissipated. He looked around, confused. What had just happened? 

Jason immediately drew his gun, ready to fire, but Bruce beat him to it, tackling the sorcerer to the ground. Shaking off the weird sensation, Dick rushed over and yanked the cursed umbrella out of the man’s reach.

“Don’t worry, Bats,” the sorcerer said with an unsettling grin, his voice taunting. “They’ll be as good as new in 48 hours.”

If looks could kill, the man would’ve been dead several times over. Bruce’s glare was so intense that Dick was sure even the Justice League would’ve cowered under it.

The sound of handcuffs clicking shut echoed through the night. Bruce stood, his expression as hard as ever, and nodded toward Dick, Tim, and Jason. “Agent A is on his way to pick you up. You’ll all undergo a full medical exam in the cave. I’m waiting for Gordon and will interrogate this man. Afterward, I’ll meet you in the Batcave, and we’ll figure out what comes next. Understood?”

A murmur of “Yes” came from all three of them, though none of them seemed particularly confident. 

This was going to be a very long night.

When Jason woke up to sunlight hitting his face, he immediately felt a surge of irritation. The curtains were supposed to be closed—he was sure he'd pulled them shut before going to bed. Whoever had opened them was in for a world of pain. After the exhausting night they'd had, B had kept them up until dawn trying to figure out what spell the sorcerer had cast. None of it had been fruitful. Even the sorcerer had refused to say much, only insisting that the spell was harmless and would wear off after 48 hours. 

Groaning, Jason rubbed his eyes and cracked one open. As soon as he did, his pulse quickened. Something was off. This wasn’t his room. His walls weren’t painted navy blue, and he definitely didn’t have movie posters scattered across them. His initial panic settled into a strange confusion as he looked around more carefully. Why the hell was he in Dick’s room?

Pushing himself out of bed, Jason snorted at the mess surrounding him. The pile of dirty laundry under Dick's desk would send Alfred into a fit. He ran a hand through his hair, only to freeze. His hair wasn’t supposed to be that straight. What the hell?

Without thinking, he stormed into the adjoining bathroom, kicking the door open so hard the bang echoed through the room. His hands shook as he flicked on the lights. 

"Oh, no ," he muttered.

He stared into the mirror, heart hammering in his chest. Instead of seeing his own reflection—his sharp features and blue-green eyes—he was met with Dick's familiar face, complete with wide blue eyes staring back in shock. This had to be some kind of joke.

His breathing quickened, and he stumbled toward the sink, gripping its edges tightly. Deep breaths . In, hold, out, repeat. Okay, so he was clearly in Dick’s body right now. Great. Could be worse, right? But if he was in Dick’s body, did that mean Dick was in his? And more importantly, why was this happening?

The answer hit him like a truck. 

“The sorcerer’s spell,” he whispered to himself, groaning. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck ." 

Jason let out a frustrated sigh, staring into the mirror again—into Dick's reflection. At least the sorcerer said the spell would wear off in 48 hours. He padded back into the bedroom, heading for Dick’s closet. As soon as he pulled the doors open, Jason scowled. What a monstrosity. Sure, Dick had a couple of decent outfits, but most of his clothes looked like things even a homeless guy would pass on. And that was saying a lot.

After some internal debate, Jason pulled out a Nightwing-themed hoodie and an old pair of gray sweatpants. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. He wasn’t about to parade around in some of the other disasters Dick had hanging up in there.

Before heading downstairs, Jason spotted Dick’s phone on the nightstand. A sly grin tugged at his lips as he pocketed it. Oh, this was going to be fun . He could mess with Dick’s life in so many ways now. The possibilities were endless . 

But first? Breakfast. 

As Jason entered the kitchen, the smell of pancakes hit him immediately. Humming to himself, he plopped down into his usual seat without a second thought.

"Good morning, Master Dick. You're surprisingly early today. If I were you, though, I’d choose another seat. I doubt Master Jason would be pleased to find you in his chair," Alfred greeted him with a knowing look.

Jason blinked, momentarily confused by Alfred's comment, before remembering— right , he was still in Dick's body. Part of him wanted to spill everything to Alfred, but a bigger, more mischievous part couldn’t resist seeing how long he could keep this up. His decision was made for him when the sound of a door slamming and hurried footsteps came from the stairs.

"Alfie, do you know where B is?" Jason’s eyes widened as his own body rushed into the kitchen, skidding to a halt in the middle of the room. This was getting weirder by the second.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, ever the epitome of calm. "Master Jason, Master Bruce will not return until lunch. Is something the matter?"

Jason, or rather, the person inside his body, looked like they were trying to figure out how to explain without pulling their hair out—hair that Jason was now particularly protective of, thanks to the fancy shampoo Roy had given him last week. It had been doing wonders, and he’d be damned if someone ruined it.

"Dick? Is that you?" the person inside his body asked, their tone suspicious.

Jason smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned back. "Nah, it’s the fucking Grinch, Baby Bird."

Tim’s—well, technically Jason's —eyebrows shot up. "Wait, so you’re in Dick’s body? And I’m in yours… which means Dick must be in mine. This has to be that spell."

Of course Tim would start spewing theories first thing in the morning. Even though Jason usually prided himself on being an early riser, this was way too early for all this bat-level crap, especially without his morning tea.

"Timbo, as much as we all appreciate your brainpower, how about we wait until I’ve had my Earl Grey before we dive into the detective work?" Jason grumbled, rubbing his temples.

Both of them had temporarily forgotten they weren’t alone. Alfred was still standing in front of the table, arms crossed, his expression calm but expectant. Uh-oh . They were definitely in trouble now.

"Now," Alfred began, voice calm but commanding, "would one of you gentlemen mind explaining what, precisely, is going on?"

Jason knew better than to think this was a simple, polite inquiry. He'd learned quickly after moving into the manor that Alfred’s questions weren’t optional. There would be consequences if they didn’t answer.

Jason glanced at Tim, who looked back at him—seeing his own face look at him was beyond weird—before sighing and rolling his eyes. "We figured out what that spell from last night did."

Alfred’s face remained carefully neutral—like Bruce had taught them to keep their emotions in check. He gave a small gesture with his hand, indicating for Jason to continue.

"This morning, I, Jason , woke up in the wrong body," Jason explained, locking eyes with Alfred. "I woke up in Dick's body instead of my own."

Alfred processed this without so much as a twitch. His gaze shifted over to Jason's body. "And who might this be, then?"

"Uh… I'm Tim," Tim replied, looking distinctly uncomfortable in Jason’s skin.

Jason stood up and walked over to Tim, ruffling his hair with a grin. The height difference between him and Dick suddenly hit him—he’d never noticed how much taller he really was. Oh, he was definitely going to rub this in Dick’s face later.

"I see," Alfred nodded, completely unfazed. "Very well, take your seats. We’ll wait for Master Dick to join us, and then we can make further plans."

Jason threw a quick smile at Tim before heading back to his chair, sitting down in the spot he'd claimed. Tim followed, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee Alfred handed him. 

As Jason sipped his tea, he and Tim sat quietly, watching Alfred finish preparing breakfast. A loud thud echoed from upstairs, and moments later, Dick, in Tim’s body, stumbled into the kitchen, looking like he’d fought a losing battle with his own bed. His hair stuck out in all directions, and the dark circles under his eyes seemed endless.

“I need coffee. Alfie, please give me coffee. I might die if I don’t get some,” Dick groaned, collapsing into what was his usual chair.

This wasn’t an unusual sight—Tim did this almost every morning—but watching Dick mimic it so perfectly was strangely entertaining. Jason glanced at Tim, who was studying Dick with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. The younger boy’s mind was clearly working overtime, probably noting how his own caffeine addiction seemed to be more physical than mental, as his body was craving the coffee despite the switched minds.

“Of course, Master Dick,” Alfred said with a smile, sliding a mug of coffee under Dick’s nose.

Without hesitation, Dick downed the coffee in a few gulps. As he set the empty mug back on the table with a satisfied sigh, his gaze finally met Jason’s. He froze, eyes widening.

“What the fuck ?”

“Master Dick, language, please,” Alfred scolded lightly.

Dick blinked, then pinched himself, clearly hoping it was all some bizarre dream. Jason couldn’t help but smirk at the sight, enjoying the chaos of the situation.

“What— how ?” Tim’s voice, obviously used by Dick, echoed through the kitchen.

“Good morning, Dickface,” Jason grinned, savoring his tea like it was the most normal morning in the world. This was beyond entertaining.

“The spell…” Dick groaned, realization dawning as he let his head thunk onto the table with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, careful with my face!” Tim yelped. “No bruises!”

“Shut up, Jaybird, I’m not even in your body,” Dick mumbled, voice muffled against the table.

“Nope, because Timberlina is in mine,” Jason shot back, flashing a grin at the wide-eyed look Dick gave him. Before Dick could protest further, Jason whipped out his — or rather Dick’s —phone and snapped a picture. The flash went off, capturing Dick’s exhausted, bewildered expression on Tim’s face perfectly. Priceless.

Jason pocketed the phone with a satisfied smirk while Tim launched into a quick explanation about the spell. Dick could only groan in response. They all came to the mutual conclusion that they’d have to wait for Bruce to return from the emergency meeting at Wayne Enterprises before they could deal with any of this.

“ Wait ,” Dick suddenly piped up, “isn’t today a school day?”

All eyes immediately turned toward Jason’s body. Tim, still inhabiting it, blinked, eyes going wide with panic before he cursed loudly enough that even Alfred would have considered washing his mouth with soap. Fortunately for him, Alfred had already left the kitchen after placing plates of pancakes in front of them.

Without a second to spare, Tim jumped up and rushed into the living room. When he came back, he was holding his tablet, furiously tapping away on it. Jason and Dick exchanged confused glances as Tim hunched over the device, clearly up to something.

“What are you doing, Tim?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, nothing?”

Neither of them bought that for a second. When Tim refused to give a straight answer, Dick stood up and swiped the tablet out of his hands. His eyes scanned the screen before he wordlessly passed it over to Jason.

Jason’s eyes widened when he saw what was on the screen. It was a school attendance log from Tim’s school, and next to Tim’s name was a green checkmark, showing that he was marked as present. But that was impossible—Tim was right here, sitting in Jason’s body.

“Are you seriously hacking your school attendance?” Jason asked, a small laugh escaping him. “That explains a lot .”

Tim, in Jason’s body, paled. “Jason, please, you can’t tell Bruce! I barely do it anymore, I swear.”

Dick, always the peacemaker, chimed in with a wink. “Relax, Tim. We trust you. Besides, it’s not like I’m itching to go to school in your body anyway.”

A comfortable silence fell over them as they continued eating. Then Jason, ever the instigator, broke it. “What do you guys say about messing with B? We’re stuck like this for two days, might as well have some fun with it.”

The twin grins that spread across his brothers’ faces said more than words ever could. This was going to be amazing .

Chapter Text

Breakfast was a relatively simple and routine affair. Alfred adapted to the whole body swap situation remarkably quickly, which was not surprising in the least. After all, as Batman’s semi-father figure—Alfred was undoubtedly Bruce’s dad, even if both were too stubborn to admit it—the butler had witnessed more than his fair share of Gotham’s brand of madness.

After breakfast, Tim found himself being pulled into the Batcave and toward the training mats by an extremely hyper Dick. Jason, pretending to be reluctant, followed without his usual complaints.

“We have to test each other’s limits!” Dick practically squealed with excitement—which sounded odd coming from Tim’s own mouth. “Bruce won’t be back for a while, so we have plenty of time for some good-natured sparring!”

Tim couldn’t find any reason to disagree. They had spent breakfast brainstorming ways to mess with Bruce, but had avoided making any concrete plans because, as Dick put it, “that would ruin all the fun.” Tim had only rolled his eyes in response; of course his older brother would hate making detailed plans and contingencies.

Tim watched with barely concealed interest as Dick dragged Jason onto the mats. This promised to be entertaining.

“Gosh, it’s been a while since I was this small,” Dick said, grinning as he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet.

Jason chuckled and glanced back at Tim. “The name Baby Bird really suits you. You’re tiny for your age.”

Tim shot them a venomous glare, paired with a raised eyebrow. Unbelievable. Why did he have to be saddled with such insufferable idiots as brothers?

“I’ll have you know that I am, statistically speaking, still firmly within the average height range,” he retorted.

Jason winked. “Sure, you are, Tiny Tim.”

Tim felt his annoyance bubbling. It wasn’t his fault that his genes were different. Dick, unhelpfully, made baby noises at him, which both irritated him further and unsettled him. It was incredibly weird to see his own face making baby noises at him.

Rolling his shoulders, Tim forced himself to brush off the annoyance. There was no point getting worked up over his brothers’ childish humor.

“We should take away his coffee,” Jason mused, giving Dick a thoughtful look.

Dick, the traitor, nodded. “You’re right. The amount he drinks can’t be good for his small body.” He paused before adding, “Doesn’t coffee stunt growth?”

“Perhaps, yeah. We should tell Alfie to limit Tim’s coffee consumption. B will definitely be on board,” Jason hummed.

That was the point where Tim decided he’d had just about enough of these two assholes. Before he knew it, his vision was tinted green.

“You are not going to tell Alfred anything,” he snarled at his brothers.

Everything was green. He could feel his rage coursing through his veins, pushing him to act. Don’t let them win. Don’t let them think you’re weak. Make them regret it.

Tim saw the exact moment when Dick and Jason’s eyes landed on him and widened slightly.

“Shit,” Jason muttered. “Look at his eyes, Dickwad.”

“They’re green... Tim’s affected by the Pit Madness,” Dick breathed out.

This was horrible, Tim realized in the brief moments when he could shake off the suffocating green haze long enough to think clearly. It felt as though something was compelling him to grab the nearest weapon and hurt his brothers for their cruelty.

But they were just joking, right? They disrespected you as a person and your honor, the voices whispered.

No, he loved his brothers! He didn’t want to hurt them. But they must pay. They had to suffer.

No. He didn’t want this. Tim felt himself shaking his head, trying to dispel the green. The green was everywhere. He was drowning in it! Someone had to help him. He didn’t want to die! But nobody would ever help you. They only hurt you. Make. Them. Pay.

No.

“Tim? Timbo, can you hear me?” he suddenly heard from beside him.

Tim couldn’t see the speaker. Why couldn’t he see anything beyond green and... black? When had he even closed his eyes?

Wrenching his eyes open, Tim gazed through the thick layers of green until he saw Dick—no, Jason, because Dick was in his own body. Jason was approaching him cautiously, both hands raised to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Hey, keep listening to my voice, okay? Try to calm your breathing, Baby Bird. If you stay calm, it’ll pass quicker, I promise.”

Tim looked at Jason suspiciously. Calm his breathing? But his breathing was calm—oh, no, it wasn’t.

Tim closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. Go away, stupid green. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Good job, Timmers. In and out.”

Opening his eyes, Tim rasped, “What—what was that?”

Jason gave him an apologetic smile. “That was the Pit Madness affecting you.”

Before Tim could respond, he felt a small body slam into him. “Oh my god, Tim, I’m so sorry! We shouldn’t have joked about taking your coffee away. Please forgive us!”

Dick—in Tim’s body—had buried his face in Tim’s chest and was clinging tightly to him. Tentatively, Tim ruffled Dick’s hair. “It’s okay, Dick. You couldn’t have known.”

Tim felt Jason patting him on the back and smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem, Baby Bird. You handled it really well.”

There was a moment of silence in the Cave as Dick extracted himself from Tim’s arms, and Jason stepped back to give the boy some space. A Pit episode could take a lot out of someone; Jason knew this firsthand from countless experiences.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. Sure, it wasn’t his fault that Tim experienced Pit Madness, but Jason still felt responsible somehow. Even his body wasn’t safe for Tim. It left a hole in his heart with a bitter aftertaste.

Jason was suddenly pulled from his thoughts when Dick yanked him back onto the training mats. By now, Baby Bird was sitting on the ground, sipping water and watching them with rapt interest. His eyes still had hints of green but had mostly returned to their usual color.

“Let’s spar!” Dick said gleefully, Tim’s voice echoing off the Cave’s walls.

Jason grinned and got into position. “Why not, Dickwad?”

Dick’s body was only about half a head smaller than his, so the height difference was manageable. The real challenge was the lack of muscle mass. Since being submerged in the Pit, Jason had transformed from a lean, lanky teenager into a tank. Dick’s words, not his. This meant he had adjusted his fighting style accordingly—his movements were slower but his punches were more powerful. Dick, on the other hand, was the opposite. Movement seemed second nature to him, relying on elaborate flips and evasive maneuvers more than brute strength. His hand-to-hand combat techniques were almost on par with Jason’s, courtesy of Bruce, but the power behind them wasn’t the same.

This was going to be an interesting fight.

Rubbing his palms together, Jason stared Dick down, trying to anticipate his first move. Without warning, Dick, in Tim’s body, lunged forward, aiming a strike at Jason’s midriff. With a grin, Jason sidestepped and caught Dick’s hand. Before he could twist it and hook an ankle around to throw him down, Dick yanked his hand back, causing Jason to stumble forward and receive a bony knee to the stomach.

“What the hell, Timberlina? You have some real bony knees. Jesus,” he huffed.

Dick and Jason continued to spar, dancing around each other for a few more minutes until both seemed to have had enough. Dick broke the rhythm by twisting Tim’s body and delivering one of his signature high kicks. Jason could feel his, no, Dick’s body vibrate with excitement. Before he knew it, he kicked both legs up and landed a perfect backflip a little further back on the mat.

“Holy crap,” he laughed, eyes immediately searching for Dick’s.

Tim’s body paused, and Jason saw Dick smirk at his amazement.

Without waiting for an answer, Jason ran a few steps to gain momentum, then jumped up and curled his body inward. He was flying. He was actually flying! Now Jason finally understood what Dick had meant all these years. Why he needed a suit that allowed flexible movement, why he couldn’t go anywhere without a flashy flip. This was pure exhilaration. Addictive as fuck.

When his feet hit the ground, Jason whipped his head back with a wide grin and looked at Dick. “You really do fly!”

Fuck his street cred and broody persona. This was too incredible to downplay.

Dick practically bounced over, sharing his excitement. “Jaybird, that looked amazing!” he practically shrieked into his ear—well, shoulder, since Tim’s body was tiny, no matter how much the youngest protested.

Jason threw Dick a smirk. “This means that I now should also be able to fold myself into a pretzel, right?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Sure, you can, but be careful not to pull anything.”

Without a second to waste, Jason immediately knew what he wanted to try out. There was this one position his brother always did to freak Bruce and him, mostly B, out. It just looked unnatural as fuck and had Jason convinced that Dick just didn’t have a solid spine when he first became Robin.

Gently and slowly, Jason bent back into a bridge, pressing the palms of his hands into the training mat.

“Don’t forget to take a deep breath, Little Wing.” By now, Dick had moved to stand next to him, in case he needed assistance and guidance.

Doing as told, Jason took a few deep breaths before shifting down onto his forearms. After a few moments, he moved his weight back and slowly lowered his chest to the floor while moving his legs closer to his head until he was basically lying on the floor with his feet firmly on the mat next to his hands.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered in astonishment. Sure, he’d been flexible in his Robin days. Hell, he was still remarkably flexible for his body type, but this was pure insanity.

“Good job, Jay,” Jason heard Dick murmur with a proud smile. Why the fuck did he always get so fucking emotional during these situations, Jason couldn’t help but scoff. Such a mother hen.

“Don’t forget to take deep breaths, kay?” his brother reminded him.

After a few minutes, Dick spoke up again. “Do you need me to lift your legs back? Trust me, that’s the most comfortable way to exit this position.”

“Oh, yes, great master. Please un-pretzel me.” Jason grinned up at the other, drawing a loud laugh from both Dick and Tim.

“That is definitely not a word,” Tim gasped out between laughs.

Jason threw the Baby Bird a smirk. “I’ll pay you 50 bucks if you incorporate it into your next Lit essay.”

Tim’s “Bet!” rang out at the same time as Dick’s stern “Hell no.” With a shaking head, their eldest brother looked at them. “Absolutely not. Jason, behave and don’t give Tim any weird ideas. And Tim, you don’t even need the money, and you should also know better than to just do anything Jason says.”

As Dick lifted Jason’s—well, technically his own—legs back so that Jason was lying stomach down on the mat, a small ding was heard throughout the Cave. Tim immediately grabbed his phone, from which the sound had originated, before smiling deviously at Dick and him.

“Guess who just got back home?”

Jason felt his face split into a grin. It was time.

Chapter Text

Bruce was finally home, and that alone had Dick practically vibrating with excitement. In the end, his brothers and he had decided not to make a full five-phase plan with a bajillion contingencies. Instead, they’d brainstormed subtle but fun ideas to slowly freak Bruce out—all harmless, of course.

Walking up to one of the more commonly used sitting rooms, Dick could barely contain his excitement. Still, he forced it all down, locking it behind the mask Bruce had taught them all. They’d need to act as normal as possible.

The second the three of them entered the sitting room, where Bruce was seated in his usual chair reading the newspaper, he looked up. “Hello, boys.”

Bruce’s face would’ve looked unbelievably serious to an outsider, but Dick knew the tone he’d used was enough to show the fondness he held for all of them.

Dick watched as Jason wordlessly sat down in the chair furthest from Bruce and nearest to the door. It would’ve been completely normal behavior for him—if he weren’t currently stuck in Dick’s body.

Bruce’s eyebrows twitched visibly as he watched his presumed eldest son’s actions. “Is everything alright, Dick?”

Sitting down on the couch next to the fire, Dick hid his smirk and answered, seemingly absentmindedly, “Oh, yeah. Everything’s good, B.”

The following silence was deafening. Dick saw Tim roll his eyes before sitting down next to him.

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing good, Tim,” Bruce almost tentatively said, clearly trying not to brush “Tim’s” feelings aside. “Dick? Are you alright, chum?”

Dick noticed the way Jason’s lip almost twitched at the repeated question. “I’m fine, old man,” his younger brother grumbled back.

Their dad’s expression was once again priceless. The world’s greatest detective looked so thrown off by his son’s behavior that it was almost comical. Nonetheless, Bruce let the matter go, turning back to his newspaper after letting out a small, grunted response.

A few minutes of silence passed before Tim spoke up without looking away from his phone. “Bruce, could you take a look at one of my last cases later?”

This was a very normal question for Tim. After all, the Baby Bird—even if he was a child genius—wasn’t allowed to stress himself too much over cases and always had Batman look them over when completed. But for Red Hood to ask for Batman’s help with one of his cases? That was practically unheard of. Collaboration was possible if Crime Alley or top rogues were involved, but Jason would rather die than blatantly ask Bruce for help like that.

Bruce visibly didn’t know how to react. He kept his face completely blank but honestly looked a little constipated, and Dick really had to pull himself together not to burst into laughter right then and there.

“Sure, Jaylad,” Bruce said, his voice gruff and audibly strained.

The next few moments passed in tense silence. None of the three boys really knew what to do or say without making it too obvious that yesterday’s spell hadn’t been as ineffective as they’d thought. Thankfully, the issue resolved itself when Alfred called Bruce to alert him of his phone ringing.

B had fled back into his office after receiving some important call, leaving Dick and his brothers bored and eventually going their separate ways. With a smile, Dick walked into the Manor’s gymnastics room. Even after all these years, this was still the best present he had ever received. He could still vividly remember the way he’d looked up at B incredulously on his twelfth birthday.

Dick whistled as he set his water bottle down on the ground by the door before stepping onto the mats to start warming up and stretching. It was only then that he remembered he wasn’t exactly occupying his own body at the moment.

It was honestly fucking weird. Tim’s body was similar to his own back in the early Robin days, but there were differences. Tim’s body was less flexible, less bendy—and it constantly craved coffee. Dick honestly wished he was kidding, but he’d already downed five cups today and still felt jittery, tired, and like every single cell in his body was screaming for more. He’d joked about limiting Baby Bird’s coffee intake before, but now he was seriously considering it.

Rolling his shoulders, he shoved all those thoughts aside and jumped up to grab the bar. Gymnastics had always been his escape, a way to turn off his brain and relax, enjoying the quiet. The movements were nothing more than muscle memory ingrained so deep he didn’t have to think about them. Though, being in a body that wasn’t his definitely spiced things up. It was a challenge, but one he could handle.

Tim had shown more interest recently in learning gymnastics—not all of it, but enough tricks that could be useful for patrol. That meant Dick already had a rough idea of what Tim’s body could and couldn’t handle.

As he twisted and turned, flipping and jumping, Dick made a critical mistake—he forgot to close the door. And worse? He forgot to stay vigilant.

The sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway startled him so badly it took every ounce of strength he had not to slip off the bar. Instead, he semi-gracefully perched on top of it with a lopsided grin.

Dick’s eyes immediately snapped to the doorway. “B,” he said, surprise coloring his voice. It wasn’t that Bruce never came to watch him—he did. But he hadn’t expected B to come by today.

“Tim,” B said, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought, “I wasn’t aware that Dick let you do these stunts without his supervision.”

Dick’s eyes widened. Crap. Shit. Fuck.

“Eh—” he stammered, oh-so-eloquently, while his brain scrambled to come up with an answer. He’d completely forgotten that Tim wasn’t allowed—or able—to do the kind of insane stunts Dick pulled. Not because B said so, but because Dick insisted on being there to train, spot, or just act as an overly excited, protective big brother. Just in case.

“Dick was here a few minutes ago,” he blurted, channeling his inner Tim and throwing B a small, awkward smile.

B’s face didn’t give away whether he bought the excuse or not, but he nodded. “Alright. As long as you’re careful.”

Dick subtly let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Now fully aware that B was watching, he started showing off a few tamer moves, nothing too flashy. But then, an idea struck him, and he grinned internally. Oh, he could fuck with B right now. Yeah, screw it.

As if flipping a switch, Dick started twisting his body to build momentum, letting go of the bar mid-swing and flipping in the air before catching it again effortlessly. He practically heard B’s breath hitch and had to fight the urge to laugh.

For the next few minutes, Dick kept it up, flipping and twisting through the air, making it look almost too easy. Finally, he dismounted the bar with a flourish, landing with both feet on the mat.

When he glanced over at B, he knew he’d succeeded. B’s face was completely chalk white, and he looked frozen for a second before muttering something about a “great job” and needing to “talk to Dick immediately.” Without giving Dick a chance to respond, B turned and briskly walked out of the gym—presumably to find “Dick.” RIP, Little Wing.

The second Dick was sure B was out of earshot, he let out a loud, unrestrained laugh. This was gold.

Jason was peacefully minding his own business as he cracked an egg into a bowl. He’d been feeling jittery for hours and had no idea why. Unlike Dick in Tim’s body, there wasn’t some caffeine addiction screwing with him. At this point, he’d tried almost everything to feel more comfortable in his—well, Dick’s—skin, but nothing was working. If baking didn’t help, Jason decided he’d track down Dick and punch some answers out of the bastard.

Honestly, if he weren’t so excited about fucking with B, he’d have rather stayed dead. Stupid, inconvenient fucking jitters.

Before he could crack a second egg, the door to the kitchen banged open, startling him enough to drop it on the floor. Another reason why he should’ve stayed dead. God fucking damnit.

Jason looked up to see Bruce standing in the kitchen doorway, his expression caught somewhere between concern, seriousness, and shock.

Jason scowled. “You made me drop my egg.”

That seemed to snap Bruce out of whatever spiral he was in, though the man still looked at Jason like he’d grown a second head. Then, slowly and almost cautiously, Bruce asked, “Does Alfred know you’re here, Dick?”

That comment made Jason pause. Why the hell would he have to tell Alfred—oh. Right. Dickface was banned from the kitchen unless Alfred explicitly gave him permission or was supervising him. Pfft. Loser. Just like Bruce.

Jason knelt down to clean up the broken egg, smirking because he knew B couldn’t see his face from this angle. “Of course he doesn’t.”

The silence that followed was so loud it was almost oppressive. When Jason stood back up, he caught a glimpse of Bruce staring at him like he’d just kicked a puppy. Dick would never blatantly disrespect Alfred like that. None of them would. It must’ve been killing the old man to watch.

Ignoring Bruce completely, Jason turned back to his mixing bowl and started working on his batter. A few seconds passed before he glanced up again. Bruce was still standing in the doorway, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Jason raised an eyebrow. That finally seemed to break B’s brain because he turned on his heel and left, mumbling something under his breath about needing to find Alfred.

Jason snorted. World’s Best Detective his ass.

Anyway, back to his brownies. Where the fuck was the cocoa powder again?

Tim was currently wandering through the Manor’s garden. Alfred had been planting new flowers recently, which inspired him to test out his newest camera lens. Fiddling with the settings, he snapped a few pictures before adjusting them again. The sun’s warm lighting, coupled with the vibrant plants and flowers, made for some beautifully whimsical shots.

Humming softly, Tim focused his lens on a small butterfly perched delicately on one of Alfred’s favorite violets. He had just snapped the perfect shot when the slam of a door made him flinch, startling the butterfly into flying away. Whirling around, Tim froze as he saw a ruffled-looking Bruce approaching him.

“Jason, have you seen Alfr— Is that Tim’s camera?” Bruce’s brows furrowed as he abruptly cut himself off.

Tim froze, silently cursing himself for letting his guard down. He had to quickly remind himself that he wasn’t actually in his own body at the moment. Ugh. Stupid, stupid mistake.

“Eh, no? Well, yes,” he stammered, his mind scrambling for an explanation. Seeing Bruce’s suspicious look, he quickly tried to salvage the situation. “No, I don’t know where Alfred is. Yes, this is Tim’s camera.”

Bruce stared at him for a few seconds, his piercing gaze practically burning a hole into Tim’s—well, Jason’s—face. Then, slowly, he asked, “And he let you borrow it?”

Shit. Tim never let anyone touch his camera, let alone borrow it, especially this one. This camera was special—it was a rare gift from his biological father during one of his short-lived attempts at being an involved parent. There was no way he’d let someone else handle it.

“I asked... nicely,” Tim choked out, hoping that B would buy it.

To his surprise, Bruce just sighed and shook his head. “First Tim is doing one of Dick’s most complicated routines without supervision, then Dick is baking without asking Alfred’s permission, and now you’re apparently allowed to use Tim’s camera? Jaybird, I’m really glad you and Tim are getting along so well, truly, but are you sure Tim was okay with this?”

Tim’s heart warmed a little at Bruce’s protectiveness over his camera before the rest of what the man said fully registered.

“D—Tim’s doing gymnastics?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Bruce nodded vaguely. “Yes. Without Dick.”

“I mean, I’m sure he can manage?” Tim offered cautiously, trying to sound casual.

Bruce huffed, his brows knitting together. “It’s just... suspicious. Dick always insists on being there.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I need to go find Alfred.”

With that, Bruce turned and walked back toward the Manor, mumbling to himself the whole way.

Tim let out a puff of air, sagging in relief. That was way too close. Carefully putting the camera back in its leather case, he snuck back into the house, waiting until he was sure Bruce was far enough away before stepping inside.

Once he was in, Tim moved quietly down the hallway and up the grand staircase. As soon as he hit the top, he sprinted toward his room—only to slam into someone smaller and get knocked back by the sheer force of Jason’s borrowed body.

“Fuck,” groaned a familiar voice from the floor. “I forgot how easy it was to be body-slammed at this size.”

Tim blinked down at his sprawled-out brother in surprise before hastily helping him up. “I’m so sorry—”

Dick pressed a finger to his lips, effectively shushing him. “It’s fine, Timmy. I know you didn’t mean to. What’ve you been up to?”

Tim smiled sheepishly, holding up the leather camera case as an answer. Dick grinned and reached up on his toes to ruffle his hair.

“And was the lens as good as you hoped?”

“Even better,” Tim replied with a grin. Then, his face sobered. “Bruce came by.”

Dick—well, Tim’s body—raised his eyebrows in surprise. Tim still wasn’t used to how weird it was talking to his own face. God, this was creepy.

“That’s why you were in such a hurry, huh? What did he say?” Dick asked quietly, glancing up and down the hallway to make sure no one was listening.

Tim nodded. “He was super confused. Told me how I—uh, you—were doing one of your routines without supervision, Jason was apparently baking and almost gave him a heart attack, and he couldn’t believe I let Jason use my camera.”

“Then we succeeded, didn’t we?” a voice drawled behind them, making both of them whirl around in panic.

If it weren’t for Dick clamping a hand over his mouth, Tim’s shriek would’ve definitely drawn Bruce’s attention.

“Jeez, Baby Bird,” Jason smirked. “No need to be so jumpy. It’s just me.”

Dick hissed and smacked Jason’s arm, earning nothing but a laugh in response.

For a moment, the three of them stood in companionable silence—until they heard voices drifting up from the stairwell. Sharing a look, they quietly tiptoed to the banister and crouched down to observe.

Downstairs, Bruce had finally found Alfred.

“Master Bruce, I have no idea what you are talking about. Have you been getting enough sleep, sir?” Alfred’s posh, calm voice carried through the room.

Tim had to stifle a laugh. Alfred, the professional gaslighter. God, he loved that man.

“Alfred, Dick was baking. In the kitchen. Alone!” Bruce said incredulously, looking like he was seconds away from ripping his hair out.

“I suppose he’s been practicing in Blüdhaven,” Alfred replied with an elegant shrug.

Bruce stared at him like a fish before snapping his mouth shut with an audible click. “You don’t think the boys are behaving weirdly? Jason was using Tim’s favorite camera. Nobody is even allowed to come near it!”

Alfred sighed, his expression perfectly composed. “I shall begin dinner preparations now, Master Bruce. Perhaps it would be wise for you to pay more attention to your sleeping habits.”

As Alfred turned to leave, he glanced up at them and shot a sneaky wink before walking away.

Yeah. Alfie was the best. No contest.

Later that evening, Jason had to suppress a grin as he and his siblings marched into the dining room for dinner. The old man was already seated in his usual spot, watching them with barely concealed suspicion.

With a loud sigh, Jason flopped into his usual chair, making a show of his exaggerated indifference. Tim and Dick followed, doing the same, which only caused Bruce’s eyebrows to creep higher. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze darted between them made it clear he was keeping a close eye on them.

“You good, old man?” Jason asked with a mischievous smirk.

Bruce blinked, clearly thrown off by the nickname. He looked at Jason—well, Dick—like he’d just sprouted a second head. “Well... yes,” he said slowly, nodding but still obviously confused.

As dinner was served, Jason noted how Bruce gradually relaxed, engaging in a conversation about the Titans with Dick. His father still looked puzzled, probably trying to figure out why his youngest son was casually discussing potential training exercises for the Titans—a team he wasn’t even in charge of—but it seemed he was willing to let it slide for now.

Tim, meanwhile, was half-listening to the conversation, which gave Jason the perfect opportunity to sneakily add a generous amount of hot sauce to his food. Jason bit back a smirk as Tim absentmindedly took another bite.

The second the food hit his tongue, Tim froze, his eyes widening. “Shit, this is hot!”

Without hesitation, the youngest clambered out of his chair and bolted toward the kitchen, presumably in search of milk.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Jay loves spicy food?” he asked no one in particular.

Jason shrugged nonchalantly, feigning innocence. “Must’ve put too much hot sauce on it.” He threw a casual glance at Dick, who met his gaze with a knowing look and a barely hidden grin.

When Tim returned, Dick helped him back into his chair, shaking his head in amusement. The rest of dinner passed peacefully—well, as peacefully as it ever got in the Manor.

That was until a phone’s notification broke the silence.

Dick immediately recognized the sound and started glancing around for his phone, his brow furrowed. Alfred was in the middle of clearing the plates when Jason pulled a phone out of his pocket with the biggest shit-eating grin.

“Oh, Wally just texted me,” Jason announced, his grin stretching ear to ear as he waved the phone in the air.

Dick froze mid-reach, his face immediately going pale before shifting to red. Bruce’s eyes narrowed as he focused on Jason like a hawk.

“Let’s see what he’s got to say…” Jason hummed as he used the phone’s facial recognition to unlock it, taking advantage of being in Dick’s body.

“Don’t you dare,” Dick warned, his voice dropping to a dangerously low growl.

Clearing his throat dramatically, Jason began reading aloud. “Hey baby! Still up for our date this weekend? Heart emoji, heart emoji, water drop emoji.” He raised his eyebrows in mock scandal, glancing at Dick.

In the corner of his vision, Jason spotted Tim turning bright red as the implications of the emojis sank in.

“Give it back!” Dick snapped, his embarrassment palpable. “I’ve been looking for that everywhere!”

Instead of handing it over, Jason grinned wider and kept reading. “The tower’s empty this weekend. Winky face. We can try out—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening at the next part of the text.

“Oh, shit.”

Before Jason could even process what he’d read, Dick vaulted over the table with a snarl, aiming straight for him.

“Get back here, Jason!” Dick yelled, scrambling to grab him.

The chaos was broken by Bruce’s voice, sharp and commanding. “Everyone, quiet!”

They froze mid-scuffle, their gazes snapping to Bruce, who looked like he was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. Alfred stood in the background, as composed as ever, though his eyes glinted with subtle amusement.

Bruce’s stern gaze swept across them. “Now, can someone explain what in the world is going on here?”

Chapter Text

The silence was absolutely fucking deafening as Dick and Jason stood frozen. Baby Bird was still seated, watching everything with wide eyes. Even Alfred stood by the doorway, waiting to see what would happen.

Jason shrugged, watching his big brother. “Dickface can explain.” He tossed the phone over to Dick and went to sit back down at the table, still able to see his betrayed expression.

“Fuck you, Little Wing,” Dick grumbled, pocketing the phone, his face still cherry red, before also taking his seat again.

Once again, silence. Nobody spoke. Jason watched as Tim grew increasingly nervous, fidgeting more and more, before hesitantly opening his mouth to explain.

“Well, you know the spell we were hit with yesterday, right?” he asked, eyeing Bruce’s reaction.

Their adoptive father looked like he was at the end of his rope. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Boys, I don’t bite. What about the spell?”

It was Dick who answered. “Well, it wasn’t as ineffective as we thought.”

B looked at them blankly and gestured for him to continue.

“We kind of woke up in swapped bodies this morning…” Dick admitted sheepishly.

Bruce sighed, and that classic remind me why I thought it was a good idea to pick you up from that damned circus look crossed his face.

Grinning, Jason watched as Tim turned to Dick and silently mouthed, I should’ve left you on the street corner where you were standing.

Dick, in turn, mock-flipped his hair— which looked absolutely ridiculous on Tim’s body— and mouthed back, But you didn’t.

That earned yet another sigh from their adoptive father.

“Alfr—”

Before B could even finish, Alfred interrupted with a faint smile. “Yes, I knew about this, Master Bruce. No, I promised them not to tell you. And no, you are not allowed to sell, abandon, or disown my grandsons.”

Jason couldn’t help but snort. Fuck yeah, Alfie. You tell him. Honestly, it was hilarious how the Justice League saw Batman as this stoic, immovable man. They should really see him being dragged to bed by his ear, whimpering because Alfred wouldn’t let go. After that, no one could ever take the feared Batman seriously again. That would be hilarious.

“But—”

“Master Bruce, I am not above taking your Cave privileges. No harm was done.”

Another sigh.

Jason really needed to turn this into a drinking game. One shot every time the old man sighed or grunted. Easy fucking hangover the next day. Actually, he should do that with Roy. They should film a League meeting and take a shot every time Ollie or B grunted, sighed, or frowned.

Wait. No. Bad idea when Lian was around.

Mentally, he quickly scrapped that first date idea off his list.

“Alfred—”

“No.”

“Hn.”

Across from him, Jason saw Dick and Tim cracking up too. So worth it.

There was a thick that silence stretched for a few more seconds until Tim suddenly turned to Jason with an almost betrayed expression.

“You got us caught!” he exclaimed, a little whine creeping into his voice.

That accusation had Dick narrowing his eyes at Jason too.

Jason had to suppress a snort. Like, come on, Dickface. At least he should’ve realized Jason was the one who ratted them out.

“I did, Timmers,” he responded neutrally— or at least tried to, but a smirk still crept onto his face.

“But—but I had so many other ideas to fuck with Bruce!”

“Language—”

Bruce cut in swiftly. “Excuse me, Alfred,” he muttered before fixing Tim with a look that could only be described as constipated. “You had plans? To mess with me?”

Tim stared at Dick and Jason for a few seconds, eyes wide, before turning back to Bruce. “Uh, no?”

Jason couldn’t hold back his laugh.

Great job, Timtam. Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss— only he fucking failed at the first step.

Bruce sighed. Again.

“Boys—”

Tim, the poor fool, obviously tried to change the subject. “Why did you have to read out Dick’s texts if you knew it would get us busted?”

This time, Jason didn’t even bother hiding his mischievous grin. “Well, you know how you have certain obligations in life, right, Timbuktu?”

Much to Jason’s surprise, Tim—his innocent little brother—was actually listening, expecting something deep or groundbreaking. He almost felt bad.

“As a younger brother to Dick, I am required to be as much of a little shit as possible. Understand? Now, come closer.”

He gestured for Tim to lean in before whispering conspiratorially, “But this only works with the eldest sibling, alright? Doing it to the middle one—which, in this case, would be me—would result in bad luck.”

Jason carefully watched Tim’s reaction.

At this point, Dick was trying to join their little conversation, which earned him a shove, because privacy is important.

“Really?” Tim looked understandably skeptical, which was fair. Baby Bird was a detective, after all. But Jason knew exactly what to say to make him fall for it.

“Yes. Not only do I have more experience being a little brother, but I’m also your Robin, right? And your Robin would never lie to you with the intent to hurt you, would he?”

Was it overdone?

Fuck yeah.

But it worked so beautifully that Jason actually started to feel bad for the kid. The way Tim just nodded in acceptance of the absolute bullshit he’d been fed was so cute and innocent that Jason had the sudden urge to wrap Baby Bird up in a blanket and cuddle him to death.

Their little moment was abruptly cut short by Bruce clearing his throat.

“All right, boys. One last chance. Can somebody just chronologically tell me what the hell has gone on in the last twelve hours?” His tone was strict enough for them all to know it wasn’t just Bruce speaking—it was Batman the Concerned Dad.

“Well, as Timmy said before,” Dick started seriously, “we all went to bed feeling fine and woke up this morning in different bodies.”

Bruce nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“Since we’d already concluded the spell had no harmful effects, we went along with our day and decided to… have some fun.”

B grunted. “We’re going to the Cave, then. I want full reports—everything in detail—so we can document this properly.”

With that, Jason watched as Bruce stood up and headed for the doorway. But just as he reached it, he paused, tilting his head slightly back toward them. At this angle, only his mouth was visible.

Then, as a faint smile ghosted across his lips, their father spoke in an amused tone.

“Oh, and boys? You’re all benched for the next week. And Dick—after we’re done in the Cave, I expect you to stay back.”

Dick blinked, clearly surprised, then frowned in confusion. “But why?”

Bruce’s smirk deepened. “Because, from what I just heard at this dinner table, I believe it’s time I showed you the updated presentation.”

The absolute look of horror on Dick’s face was something Jason truly considered framing and hanging up in every safehouse he owned.

The second Dick shut his bedroom door behind him, he sagged against it before flopping onto his bed with a loud groan.

B was evil. Pure, unrelenting evil for making him sit through that god-awful safe sex presentation again.

The first time had been bad enough—he’d been a teenager with his first real crush, and Bruce had ambushed him with a disturbingly detailed slideshow on safe sex positions and the horrific effects of untreated STDs. Some of those images were permanently burned into his brain.

And somehow, the updated version had been so much worse.

Now, it included new medical data. And same-gender sex. Yay.

It was so mortifying that Dick honestly doubted he’d be able to get it up for weeks.

Meanwhile, Tim and Jason—the little shits—had been cackling the entire time leading up to it. They’d been exempt this round, but Dick knew it was only a matter of time before Jason got his turn. Not with the way his ridiculous, blatantly obvious crush on Roy was getting harder and harder to ignore. Sooner or later, Bruce would notice. And then? It would be Jason’s turn to suffer.

Dick took a deep breath, trying to shove the embarrassment out of his mind, when his phone suddenly buzzed.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair—Tim’s hair—before grabbing his phone.

Walls: Baby? You good?

Oh shit.

He’d left Wally on read.

Or rather—Jason had left Wally on read after loudly reading their private messages in front of everyone.

Fucking hell.

Dickiebird: Yeah, sorry for the radio silence.

Dickiebird: You won’t believe what happened…

Before he could even type out an explanation, his phone started ringing.

Without hesitation, he picked up and sighed. “Hey, Wall.”

Silence.

Dick frowned. “…Wally?”

More silence.

Then—

“Tim? Why do you have Dick’s phone?” Wally’s confused voice came through the speaker.

Dick’s eyes widened.

Oh. Fuck.

He’d completely forgotten about that part.

“That’s a funny story,” Dick said with a sheepish laugh. “You know how I texted you yesterday about that sorcerer on patrol?”

“You mean how Dick texted me?” Wally corrected.

“Yeah, so… Tim, Jay, and I kinda woke up in each other’s bodies this morning.”

There was a brief pause.

“Holy shit, babe!” Wally burst out. “You’re in Tim’s body? You’re Robin-sized again!”

Well. That was unexpected. Sure, his boyfriend was an easygoing guy, but the immediate acceptance of the situation baffled the Bat-side of Dick. Who just believed something like this without questioning it? What if this was a prank call?

Once Dick was back in his own body, he was definitely having a conversation with Wally about being more cautious.

…Crap. He sounded like Bruce.

Before he could dwell on that existential crisis, Wally’s voice crackled through the speaker again. “So, about this weekend, though…”

Dick cleared his throat. “Yeah, about that. You know how we were going to hold off a little longer before telling everyone we’re official?”

“Yes?” Wally sounded a little wary now.

Dick didn’t give him a chance to spiral. “Jason kind of did that for us. He’s in my body right now, had my phone, and decided dinner time was the perfect moment to read your texts out loud.”

It was silent for a few seconds until Wally found his voice.

“Dick, babe, this isn’t funny. You’re joking, right?” Wally’s voice was rising. “Your father... He didn’t hear them, did he?”

Dick winced. “He did.”

A strangled noise came from the other end.

“FUCK! I’m so dead! Batman is going to kill me! Oh my god, babe, the Batman is going to murder me!”

“Actually,” Dick interrupted, “he wasn’t too upset.”

A sharp inhale. “Define ‘too upset.’”

“Well…” Dick hesitated. “He only mildly traumatized me with an updated sex presentation. And then told me to invite you to dinner next month.”

There was a long, drawn-out exhale.

“I’m going to live,” Wally whispered like he couldn’t believe it. “I don’t have to go on the run.”

Dick chuckled. “No, Walls, you won’t have to go on the run. But you’ll need to prepare for the hardest interrogation of your life.”

It was silent on the other end once more.

“…A Batman interrogation?” Wally’s voice hit an impressive octave.

It was well known that Batman’s interrogation techniques weren’t for beginners. Apparently, the Justice League had once done a training exercise where they practiced interrogating each other. Ollie—poor man—was reportedly still traumatized to this day. And considering he’d survived a literal uninhabited island for a year? That said a lot.

“Well, it probably won’t be a Batman interrogation,” Dick admitted. “More like an Alfred interrogation.”

A pause. Then, flatly—

“That’s worse, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck me.”

“Not while I’m in Tim’s body.”

A horrified sputter. “WHAT THE FUCK, DICK!?” Wally shrieked. “Dude, don’t give me that imagery!”

Before Dick could respond, his bedroom door slammed open. Jason barged in, then froze when he heard Wally’s voice. Within seconds, his face was bright red.

“Uh, Walls, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright? Jay just ran into my room.”

“Yeah, no problem, baby,” Wally said, still recovering. “Goodnight. Love you. And you are telling me everything about the Alfred interrogation tomorrow.”

Dick grinned. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to die, Walls. Love you too! Bye!”

The second he ended the call and pocketed his phone, he was greeted with loud gagging noises from Jason.

“You two are so disgusting.”

Dick snorted. “You only say that now because you read the texts.”

Jason shuddered. “That was traumatizing.”

“You did that to yourself, Little Wing.” Dick smirked, then softened his tone. “Did you need anything?”

Jason looked rough in Dick’s body—hair a mess, fingers constantly fidgeting.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled sharply and deadpanned, “Something is wrong with your body.”

Dick blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Something is wrong with your fucking body, Dickface. I feel awful, and it’s driving me up a goddamn wall.”

Dick tilted his head, scanning Jason—his body—more closely. “My body is fine, though? It’s not like it has some insane caffeine addiction… unlike certain people.”

Jason ran a frustrated hand through his—Dick’s—hair. “Then why have I been feeling jittery for hours? I feel like someone is about to shove me off a cliff.”

Dick’s lips twitched. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. Oh, this was gold. Absolute gold.

“Let me fix that for you, Little Wing.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed in confusion as Dick stood from the bed and walked toward him. “What are you—”

Before he could protest, Dick wrapped his arms tightly around Jason.

Jason stiffened at first. Then—like a switch had been flipped—his shoulders dropped, his breathing steadied, and his entire posture relaxed.

Dick could feel it. He knew that sensation all too well. This was his body, after all.

They stayed like that for a minute or two before Jason suddenly froze and took a step back, staring at him with a mix of disbelief and horror.

“…Wait.” His voice was flat. “You need hugs to function?!”

Dick snorted. “Yep.”

“That is messed up.”

That did it. Dick burst out laughing, especially when Jason kept going, voice laced with incredulity.

“How the hell are you a functioning adult if you need to strangle people with your octopus limbs on a daily basis?! How did you even survive childhood with Bruce?!”

Still chuckling, Dick caught his breath and shrugged. “Luck?”

Jason just stared at him. Then, without another word, he spun around, marched out, and slammed the door shut behind him.

Through the wood, Dick clearly heard Jason muttering, “Why is my family so messed up… fucking hell.” A few seconds later, there were quiet chuckles.

Dick huffed out another laugh and headed for the bathroom. It was already late—not patrol late, but since Bruce had benched them, it wouldn’t hurt to actually get some extra sleep for once.

The second his head hit the pillow, he was out. No dreams. No nightmares. No interruptions. Perfect.

Waking up was a slow affair as always in the Wayne household. None of them, except Alfie, were early risers, and it showed.

As he blinked his eyes open, Dick was greeted by the sight of Tim’s dark room, the boy’s blackout curtains keeping all the morning sunlight out.

Frowning, he rubbed his eyes. Did he sleepwalk again?

A loud “Fuck!” from the hallway had him wide awake in an instant.

Jumping out of bed, he yanked the door open and rushed into the hallway.

Tim stood there, looking downright murderous.

Then, a second later, the door to his room opened—and out stepped a person wearing his face.

Fuck, indeed.

“Not again.” He groaned, letting his head fall back.

He was in Jason’s body now.

Shit.

Chapter Text

The immediate aftermath of this new revelation was chaotic, to say the least. Unlike before, Bruce had been alerted right away—mostly because they’d been loud enough to wake the whole damn house. Or rather, Jason had been, Tim snickered to himself.

Breakfast was hilarious. Bruce was just sitting there, looking like he regretted every single life choice that had led him to this moment. Alfred, as always, was utterly unbothered. Jason looked like he was dying inside, and Dick? Well, Dick was absolutely thriving, teasing Jason non-stop about finally being the taller one again.

Tim was pretty sure Jay would snap in three, two, one...

And right on cue, Jason launched a pancake directly into Dick’s face, growling, “Fuck off, Dickface.”

Instead of being offended, Dick only cackled. “You do realize you’re technically insulting your own face, right?”

“Masters,” Alfred cut in, his tone calm but carrying that dangerous edge, “if you would kindly settle down and eat your breakfast like civilized boys, I would be most grateful.”

That had Tim’s brothers snapping back in line immediately, much to his amusement. Honestly, what would they do without Alfie? The man was the only reason this household even functioned.

Mid-bite, Tim was caught completely off guard when Dick clapped him on the back, grinning from ear to ear. The sudden impact sent him into a brief choking fit over his pancake.

“Crap, sorry, Timmy. Please don’t die,” Dick said, still smiling like an idiot.

Jason snorted into his tea. “He says that with a grin. You trying to cash in on Timantha’s life insurance?”

“What?” Dick gasped, all fake offense. “I would never. Not on my poor, beloved baby brother.”

Before Tim could even react, he was suddenly yanked into Dick’s lap and smothered in hugs and kisses. With a squeak and wide eyes, he desperately tried to escape, but Dick had a fucking iron grip.

“Jesus, Jaybird, I never realized you were this strong,” their oldest brother chuckled, watching Tim struggle with way too much amusement in his eyes.

Jason opened his mouth—probably to throw out some smug remark—but Alfred cleared his throat. And just like that, Tim was mercifully released.

“Anyway, Baby Bird, we could do so many fun things!” Dick started excitedly. “Remember that machine you were trying to build last month—”

Bruce immediately cut him off with an exasperated sigh. “No. We are not using anyone’s body in some mad experiment, Dick.”

Dick, of course, ignored him entirely. “Okay, then I could teach you that jump combo you’ve been trying to get down! It'll be so much easier now that you’re—”

“No,” Bruce said instantly.

“What?” Dick gaped at him. “But come on, B! This is literally the perfect opportunity! I can teach him everything way faster now that he’s in my body—”

Bruce just hit him with the classic Hn.

Which, in Bruce-to-English translation, meant: Don’t even fucking think about it. If you do, I will personally make sure you’re grounded and benched until you’re 35.

Dick let out a dramatic sigh, pouting as he sagged back into his seat.

After breakfast, Tim hurried to his room, trying to escape before Dick could rope him into some insane plan—one that would undoubtedly earn them both Bruce’s wrath. Instead, he decided to spend the day doing some casework. Maybe he’d squeeze in some video games later.

His peace lasted for about an hour.

Then, with a loud slam, his door flew open, and Dick barged in, grinning like he had just come up with the most evil idea in existence.

“You know, Timmy,” he began, way too smugly, “now that you’re in my body, there are certain needs you’ll have to fulfill to keep it healthy. Luckily for you, I know exactly what those are.”

Tim barely had a second to process before Dick snatched the case files out of his hands and tossed them onto his desk. Before he could protest, he found himself scooped up and carted off like a sack of potatoes.

“What the—Dick, put me down!” Tim yelped.

His words fell on deaf ears. Dick marched them both out of the room and straight into his own, where he promptly dropped Tim onto his bed. The mattress bounced under him from the impact, and before he could scramble away, Dick was already on him.

Efficient as ever, Dick wrapped him up burrito-style in a blanket, then flopped down next to him, deploying his octopus limbs to trap him completely in a vice-like grip.

“Dick!” Tim whined, wriggling in frustration. “What the fuck—let me go!”

Dick just laughed, tightening his hold. “I know my body best, and my body needs cuddles right now.” The grin in his voice was way too obvious.

Tim let out a long-suffering groan. “I was busy—”

“With casework?” Dick cut in immediately. “Baby Bird, even B would thank me for getting you to take a break. You work too hard.”

Tim pouted, elbowing him. “You say that like you’re any better. Didn’t Bruce have to literally bribe you into cutting back your police job to part-time?”

“Shhh,” Dick hushed him, faux-seriously. “We do not talk about that. It’s in the adoption contract—page three, section five: We ignore all personal hypocrisy.” He buried his face into Tim’s—well, his own—hair. “My job as your big brother is to look out for you.”

Tim hummed in response, already feeling drowsy. A yawn slipped out before he could stop it.

Not missing a beat, Dick flipped him around, positioning Tim so that his face was buried into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“Just get some shut-eye, Baby Bird,” Dick murmured. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

That was all the convincing Tim needed. Within minutes, he was out cold, warm and comfortable in his brother’s arms.

Dick was really happy right now. Sure, the whole body swap situation wasn’t ideal, but it could be a lot worse. Bruce had only suffered a mild breakdown—better than expected—and at this exact moment, Dick was content.

Because, honestly, who wouldn’t be? He had his baby brother all bundled up in his arms, actually sleeping peacefully for once.

With a soft smile, he pressed another kiss into Tim’s—or rather, his own—hair. God, this kid was way too stubborn for his own good. But Timmy had a heart of gold and self-worth issues that could probably break a world record.

One day, Dick vowed silently. One day, Jay and I are going to make him realize just how important and loved he really is.

His smile darkened slightly. Jason had been keeping tabs on the Drakes, and from what they’d gathered, the couple was getting more desperate by the day. Ever since the public fallout over their neglectful parenting, their reputation had taken a massive hit, costing them multiple business deals. And now? Their company had started dabbling in shadier practices—which was perfect for Dick’s plans.

They might have gotten away scot-free when it came to Tim, he thought darkly, but they’re not escaping forever. One day, when we’ve got the right evidence, I’ll make sure the world knows exactly what kind of people they really are.

Letting out a soft sigh, Dick carefully untangled himself from Tim. As much as he loved having his youngest brother here, something was still missing—or rather, someone.

He needed Jay.

Now.

With a grumble, he got up and padded into the hallway. A quick peek into Jason’s room told him what he already suspected—empty. Meaning, Jay was probably curled up in his favorite leather chair in the library, reading with a mug of tea.

Sure enough, when Dick reached the library entrance and peeked inside, there was his Little Wing, tucked away in the corner by the window. No tea, but with a book.

The sight made Dick grin. It had been a lifetime ago since Jason was this small—Robin-sized, really—and it was tickling every single one of his mother hen instincts.

He needed to scoop him up immediately.

Moving quietly, he approached. Jason didn’t even notice him until Dick gently slid the paperback out of his hands, sliding the bookmark in between the page before setting it aside.

“Dickhead?” Jason looked up, confusion and mild annoyance flickering across his face. He clearly hadn’t heard Dick come in.

“Cuddle time, Little Wing. No can do.”

Before Jason could react, Dick picked him up, just like he had with Tim.

Jason immediately tensed, looking two seconds away from protesting. Then—probably realizing it was pointless—he just sighed and gave up.

Because right now, Dick was bigger, stronger, and hell-bent on dragging Jason into a warm, cozy sibling pile—and when Dick had his mind set on something, the chance of escape was slim to none.

“Is Baby Bird already in your nest, Mother Bird?” Jason teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Dick hummed as they ascended the stairs. “Yeah, he’s already out like a light.”

When they stepped into the room, Dick quietly shut the door behind them before lowering Jason to the ground, motioning for him to get comfortable on the bed—where their youngest brother was still curled up, snugly wrapped in a blanket.

With a huff—because Jason wouldn’t be Jason if he didn’t object to everything first—he crawled into bed, slotting himself against Tim’s back and pulling the kid into his arms.

Grinning, Dick climbed in as well, settling into the same position as before, with Tim’s head tucked under his chin.

A comfortable silence filled the room until, after a while, Jason spoke, keeping his voice low so as not to wake their baby brother.

“You know what’s weird, Big Bird?” he murmured. “Timtam’s body gets all tingly after too much physical contact. You notice that too yesterday?”

Dick frowned slightly, thinking back to yesterday when he was the one stuck in Tim’s body.

“Not really, no,” he admitted. “But to be fair, I only hugged you for like, a second, and that was the most physical contact I had.”

Jason hummed, biting his lip in thought. “You think it’s still ‘cause of the touch starvation?”

Dick sighed. “Probably.”

“Fucking hell.” Jason’s hold on Tim instinctively tightened. “We really need to beat it into Timbuktu’s thick skull that he needs to get his ass to us if the starvation starts acting up. Little shit.”

Dick huffed a quiet laugh. “We should talk to him about it,” he agreed, “but not now.”

Jason raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Tim’s been exhausted—especially with the body swap situation,” Dick explained. “If we corner him about it now, we’re not going to get an actual answer out of him.”

Jason didn’t argue. He just gave a quiet nod before pressing his face into the crook of Tim’s neck.

That was the end of that conversation.

A few hours later, Jason had gladly joined his brothers in an effort to annoy the fuck out of their old man, who’d—as usual—sought sanctuary in his office.

Did they have a plan? Nope. Did it matter? Not in the slightest.

“Bruce, come on!” Dick begged, already laying it on thick.

Jason, who hadn’t even been remotely paying attention, figured fuck it, might as well join in. Mustering up his best goddamn puppy eyes, he locked onto the old man and pouted.

“Dad? Please?”

And just like that, B cracked.

Tim, the evil little mastermind, went in for the kill-shot.

“We’re so bored…” he sighed, voice soft and pitiful. Then, for maximum devastation— “It reminds me of when I was back—back there.”

A pause. A small, heartbreaking catch in his voice. Jason had to respect the sheer level of manipulation. Bruce’s reaction? Fucking priceless.

His eyes darkened instantly. His jaw clenched. He cycled through all five stages of grief at lightning speed—sadness, anger, guilt, the whole damn package.

“Fine,” Bruce finally sighed. “Go set up Mario Kart. I’ll be there in a second.”

Victory.

Dick fist-pumped. Jason grinned like a wolf. Tim smirked in quiet triumph.

As they bolted out of the office, Bruce called after them.

“Oh, and Tim?” He shot the kid a knowing look. “Don’t think I didn’t see through that guilt tactic. And Jaylad?”

Jason froze mid-step.

“You can call me Dad outside of these kinds of situations too, you know.”

Then—the bastard winked. Jason’s brain short-circuited. His entire face burned red.

Dick and Tim immediately lost it, cackling as Jason groaned violently and dragged his hands down his face. He should’ve fucking stayed dead.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all settled in their home theater, controllers in hand, ready for battle. Dick, being the dramatic bitch he was, obviously picked Princess Peach. Tim, the shady little shit, went for Shy Guy. Jason? Yoshi, just because he could.
And Bruce?

Bowser.

The irony wasn’t lost on anyone.

The second B selected his character, all three of them lost it, cackling at the sheer perfection of it. Bruce just sighed heavily, like he regretted every life choice that led him here.

Simple Grand Prix. Four races.

Normally? They’d be driving to win. But now? Now that Bruce was here? Fuck winning. Their new mission was to make his life hell.

Jason immediately put his plan into motion. He purposely hung back in last place—grabbing every possible power-up—then unleashed absolute chaos on Bruce every  chance he got.

Red shells. Green shells. Piranha Plants. Bombs.

By the time Jason won the first race, Bruce was mildly annoyed but still keeping it together.

By the third race? B was on the verge of snapping. Jason had just hit him with another Piranha Plant when he heard Bruce muttering under his breath.

“You little gremlin…”

Tim was giggling uncontrollably, absolutely thriving off B’s descent into video game rage.

And then—the final race. Bruce was fighting for his life to hold onto fifth place. Jason was cruising ahead, set on securing the victory. Then suddenly disaster struck.

Bruce rounded the last corner, seconds away from locking in a respectable finish, when—

Donkey Kong blindsided him with a red shell.

Time. Fucking. Stopped.

Bruce’s entire body went rigid as DK flew past him, knocking him into sixth place.

A long, heavy silence followed. B’s eye twitched. Then—

“I HATE DONKEY KONG!”

The three brothers collapsed instantly. Full-body, on-the-floor, tears-streaming, gut-wrenching laughter. Bruce just sat there, staring at the screen with the thousand-yard-stare of a broken man.

And then, from somewhere in the Manor, Alfred’s voice rang out.

“Language, Master Bruce.”

Jason wheezed. Tim was crying. Dick was barely breathing. Bruce looked like he was seriously contemplating murder.

After calming down, Jason just couldn’t keep the grin off his face. His family was fucking insane. And honestly? He wouldn’t trade them for the world. Not that they needed to know that any time soon.