Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason stood in the middle of the helipad, the salty ocean breeze ruffling his jacket as the helicopter’s blades slowed behind him. He had arrived in style—one of the many privileges of being both a crime lord and the son of Bruce Wayne. Most guests took the boats docking at the pier, but Jason? ever The Dramatic took the one with style.

He descended from the walkways onto the pristine white sands of the Caribbean beach, his boots sinking slightly with each step. It was a surreal contrast—him, a man who spent most of his nights in Gotham’s bloodstained streets, now walking toward an event straight out of a fairy tale.  

To say this was the wedding of the millennium would be an understatement. When news of Tim and Kon’s engagement broke, the entire world seemed to freeze for a moment, as if collectively processing the sheer weight of it.  

The media devoured the story like starving hyenas, sinking their teeth into every detail. Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, one of the youngest multi-billionaires in the world, was marrying a simple farm boy from Kansas—who, in a twist fit for a soap opera, was the estranged son of none other than Lex Luthor. It had everything: power, legacy, and the kind of drama tabloids lived for.  

And yet, despite the global obsession, the actual wedding was an intimate affair. No flashing cameras. No paparazzi swarming the beach. Just friends and family.

The guest list, though, was something else.  

Jason scanned the crowd as he made his way toward the ceremony. Superheroes and villains alike were in attendance, their colorful suits standing out against the tropical backdrop. Wonder Woman chatted with Black Canary near the bar, while Poison Ivy, draped in an elegant green gown, sipped a cocktail beneath the shade of a palm tree. But then Jason’s gaze landed on a few unexpected faces, and his steps slowed.  

What the hell was Kryptonian General Dru-Zod doing here? And Black Adam?  

Jason tensed instinctively, but neither seemed interested in causing a scene. If anything, they looked… relaxed. Enjoying the catering, even. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. If there was one thing that could bring the most dangerous people on Earth together, it was Alfred’s cooking.  

Still, Jason wasn’t entirely at ease. Not because he expected an attack—no one was stupid enough to try anything here.  

No, what truly unsettled him was what came next.  

The dreaded family dinner.  

This wasn’t Thanksgiving, where skipping out was an option. This wasn’t some casual get-together where he could make an excuse and disappear halfway through. This was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and that meant every single member of the Bat and Super family would be there.  

To be honest? He doesn't want to be there, he was still pissed off of Bruce and big blue boy scout for stopping the former for killing the Joker. He was still pissed off of several members of the family. But...

For all their years as brothers, Jason and Tim had never been particularly close—not the way Dick and Damian were. But Jason still considered himself a good brother. And as a good brother, he had a responsibility and to acknowledge one simple fact:  

Tim might be the smartest of them all, but my god, he was also incredibly stupid.  

This marriage? This entire thing? It was a disaster waiting to happen.  

especially that dreaded family dinner

Jason could feel it in his bones.  

The ceremony itself wasn’t overly extravagant—at least, by Wayne standards. Sure, it was set on a private island with the kind of scenic backdrop you’d find on a postcard, but it wasn’t some over-the-top, black-tie event. And for that, Jason was grateful. Whoever made the call to ditch the tuxedos deserved a damn medal.  

Instead, guests arrived in their usual attire. Suits, capes, spandex—whatever they were most comfortable in. It was strange, sure, but considering the guest list, it made a weird kind of sense.  

Jason exhaled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he approached the gathering. 

This was going to be a long night.  

Steph had fought the likes of Dracula—and won. She had survived No Man’s Land with nothing but sheer wits and determination.  But this? This was an entirely different beast.

She was proud—damn proud—of the fact that she was the sole architect of this wedding. But boy, she had never been this stressed in her entire life.

It wasn’t just the logistics. It wasn’t just the pressure of making sure the event went perfectly. It was the fact that this mattered.

She loved Tim, truly. Their time together had been something she cherished. In another life—under different circumstances—she and Tim had both believed she’d be the one walking down the aisle. But that was a dream for another timeline. Right now, she had one mission:

Organize the damn wedding.

Steph didn’t have any experience in wedding planning, but if there was one thing she did know—thanks to hours of Pinterest deep dives—it was that it had to be perfect. And perfection required sacrifices.

No one needed to know that she may or may not have sold her soul to Constantine to make sure the sun set just a little slower than usual for that perfect golden-hour glow. Or that she had possibly bribed both the Atlanteans and the Amazons into temporarily making the island disappear. No one was leaving unless she said so.

Steph had pulled every string she could think of to make this event happen. She was a Bat—giving up wasn’t in her DNA. She had even considered a failsafes, one the grooms suggested her do: What better way to prevent villains from crashing the wedding than to invite them? If they were guests, they’d be easier to monitor, and if they tried anything—well, they were surrounded by the most powerful beings on the planet.

She had briefly entertained the idea of inviting Darkseid, just for the sheer chaos of it, but logistics killed that dream.

Of course, some people weren’t welcome. Joker? Absolutely not. Captain Boomerang? Yeah, no. Thanks to Supergirl, those particular demented pricks were currently enjoying an extended stay in the Phantom Zone. No one needed to know that little detail.

But there was one unexpected side effect of inviting the villains: now everyone wanted in on the exclusive Wayne-Kent extended family dinner. Suddenly, all these people were claiming to be part of the family tree, and Steph had to admit—at a certain point, it got hilarious. 

"so" she said "why the heck not" 

The setup itself was a mix of chaos and perfection, just like the couple. Rows of seats were lined in red, black, blue, and gold—the colors of Red Robin and Superboy. It was cheesy, sure, but so was the entire aesthetic. The wedding décor was a blend of their weirdest, most niche interests. Punk leather jackets met nerdy skater-boy aesthetics. Somehow, it worked.

At the shallow end of the shore, a wedding arch stood tall, flanked by ice sculptures of the Bat and the House of El symbols—Dr. Freeze’s personal contribution. A union of power. The aisle was lined with flower arrangements of roses and forget-me-nots, courtesy of Poison Ivy. And the carpet overlaying the sand, giving the illusion of floating on air? A special fabric designed by Mr. Terrific.

The food? That was being handled by none other than Dick, who had taken it upon himself to run the bar. The feast itself was a joint effort between Martha Kent and Alfred Pennyworth—meaning it was guaranteed to be legendary. The massive spread lined the edge of the beach, close to where the tropical jungle met the shore.

It was grand. It was chaotic.

It was so Tim and Kon.

And if Steph could just survive this without losing her mind, she was calling it a win.

It was no surprise that Bruce was nervous.

Not because there were villains in attendance—no.

Not even because Stephanie had apparently sold her soul to Constantine.

No, what had the great Batman quaking was the simple, inescapable fact that his son was getting married.

For all his foresight, for all his contingencies, he had never once imagined this day. Never thought that he would be walking his son down the aisle, much less watching him marry a Kent—and a Luthor, no less.

His boy was getting married. And he had no idea what to do.

Bruce had never been to a wedding before, at least not one where he wasn’t working. His eldest, Dick, was unfortunately (fortunately, in Bruce’s opinion) still holding onto his playboy ways, never settling down despite his dozens of past relationships. Jason—well, Bruce prayed that Jason’s thing with Rose Wilson never progressed to this level because the last thing he wanted was to be related to Slade. Duke was still subtle, still shy. His daughter—his princess—Cassandra, thankfully wasn’t entertaining the idea of dating. If she ever did, Bruce was fairly certain he’d go into cardiac arrest. And Damian? His forever baby was never getting a love life—not as long as he and Talia were still breathing.

All day, he had been shoved around by an increasingly stressed Stephanie, dragged from place to place as she barked orders. Even though he had memorized everything—down to the precise number of petals in the flower arrangements—he still had no idea where he was supposed to be or when.

Then the bells rang, signaling the start of the ceremony. Before Bruce could even process it, Cassandra was at his side, physically hauling him to his place.

A light tap on his shoulder.

Bruce turned to find Clark smiling at him, bright as ever. People liked to joke that Superman was dependent on the sun for his strength, but Bruce had always thought Clark didn’t need it. That damn smile was enough.

“Nervous?” Clark asked, his voice warm with amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the great Batman look this rattled.”

Bruce exhaled sharply. “Hn. I’m just… not sure about this.”

To an outsider, it might have sounded like rejection. But Clark had known Bruce long enough to hear the truth beneath the words. Bruce was just emotionally constipated.

Clark grinned. “Bruce, Stephanie sold her soul to Constantine to make sure this event was perfect. I think we can safely assume no contingencies are necessary. You don’t have to be Batman today.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bruce muttered.

Clark nodded, his voice softer now. “I know. What I mean is that right now, you just need to be a father and walk your boy down the aisle.”

Bruce sighed. “Are you nervous?”

Clark chuckled. “Bruce, I’ve stood more resolutely in the face of Darkseid than I am right now.”

Bruce smirked. “I know we talked about this when they first proposed to each other…” His voice dropped, quieter now. “But I will break your son if he ever hurts mine.”

Clark let out a full-bodied laugh, clapping a hand on his stomach. “Same, Bruce. Same.”

Then the officiant took the stage.

Bruce’s eye twitched. It was Constantine.

He had never felt a stronger urge to strangle one of his children. Stephanie was definitely getting reprimanded for this later.

Then the music began.

The grandparents entered first—Ma and Pa Kent, holding hands, walking together with steady, proud steps.

Then Alfred.

Bruce had seen Alfred in every situation imaginable, had seen him stand tall through decades of war and chaos. And yet, here he was, actively dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief as he walked, overwhelmed with emotion.

Then the groomsmen and bridesmaids followed:

Cassandra with Harper Row.

Kara with Cassie.

Bart with Stephanie.

Cullen Row with Chris Kent.

Dick and Jason.

Duke and Natasha Irons.

Then came the flower boy—Jon, giddy and practically vibrating with excitement as he tossed petals with reckless enthusiasm.

And the ring bearer—Damian.

Scowling. Seething. Looking as if he were being personally punished by the universe. Bruce could already hear the rant forming in Damian’s head: This is absurd. Why am I a servant?

Then, finally, came Conner.

Escorted by not just Clark, but also Lois and Lex—who, even now, were butting heads as they walked beside him. Clark and Lois flanked Conner on the left, while Lex, looking entirely too smug, held his place on the right.

Bruce could only watch as Conner moved to his place.

And now—now—came the moment he had been dreading.

The moment he had to move.

He exhaled slowly, clenching and unclenching his fists.

It was time.

Tim is an anxious wreck. That’s not surprising. To say he inherited Batman's paranoia and tendency to overreact—despite not being biologically related—would be an understatement.

What’s surprising is that he has never felt so sure and relaxed in his whole life.

He's marrying Conner, the love of his life. They’ve been through thick and thin, through battles and hardships. Yet, the decision wasn’t made in a life-or-death scenario, as it so often was for them. It happened on a lazy afternoon, watching cartoons.

"Hey, wanna get married?" Conner had quipped.

And Tim, between bites of cereal, had simply answered, "Yeah, sure," as if he had just been asked a mundane question.

Looking back, it was funny. He always imagined a proposal like the one his biological parents had—grand and extravagant, over a luxurious dinner in an upscale Gotham restaurant.

But this? This was better. Because his was real. It wasn’t forced by societal expectations or the dire circumstances of their daily battles. It came from a place of pure understanding between them.

When he told his family, it was in a bad timing. One of those days, where the family where at each other's throats. But they all put it aside one morning, to receive the news.

their reactions fell into three categories: shock, smugness, and fear—all coming from a place of love and acceptance.

Alfred smiled as if he had already known. Dick was shocked but immediately excited, bombarding Tim with questions about the wedding. Steph was the same. Jason, despite acting like he didn’t care, had started tapping his left foot—a telltale sign that he was nervous. He had gone quiet, lost in thought.

Cass, on the other hand, was smug, as if she had figured it out long before Tim even spoke. Duke was just as shocked as Dick and Steph. And Bruce—Bruce was short-circuiting.

Tim had seen his father face down the Riddler and Calculator without breaking a sweat, yet here he was, visibly struggling to process the news.

And then there was Damian—his baby brother, who had once tried to kill him, who had spent years being antagonistic toward him.

"Jon and I will be brothers," Damian had declared with a nod. "This is acceptable. You finally have some use, Drake."

after the discussion, the tension was still there but nonetheless alleviated.

Now, as the wedding ceremony commences, Tim stands at a secluded part of the venue, looking out at the crowd. His siblings, his friends, Conner’s groomsmen and maids—they all stand at the altar, hilariously cramped together.

As Conner reaches his spot, Tim notices Bruce nearby. He’s showing all the telltale signs of being nervous—something Batman never is.

Tim taps his father on the shoulder, amused at the way Bruce falters before sighing.

"You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Tim," Bruce mutters, placing a hand over his heart in an exaggerated display.

"Better not, B. This is my day," Tim chuckles. "You’re not gonna try and ruin it, or else Steph will—"

"Steph is the one in trouble," Bruce deadpans

.

Tim laughs. "Don’t worry, Dad. Her soul is practically worthless—Etrigan said so."

Bruce sighs. "It’s not just her. Of all the people you invited, it had to be Constantine. Of all people."

Tim smirks. "You’re fine with the villains?"

"Better to have Harvey officiate than him," Bruce mutters.

Tim chuckles. "True…"

Then, after a pause, Bruce asks, "Are you ready?"

"I was so sure you’d try to delay this as much as possible," Tim teases.

He expects a dry quip or a lame dad joke. Instead, Bruce says, "Tim, I’m so proud of you. I’m so happy to walk you down this aisle."

Tim barely has time to react before Bruce gently guides him forward.

He glances around, seeing the faces of the people he loves, feeling the warmth of their presence. He looks up at Bruce—stoic, composed, yet with a hint of emotion in his eyes.

Tim smiles. "Thank you." His voice catches, thick with pure love and joy.

It’s magical—quite literally, as the sun casts a golden glow down the aisle, blending seamlessly with a touch of arcane magic. He makes a mental note to thank Steph for that later.

As they reach the altar, Bruce hesitates for just a moment before reluctantly stepping aside.

Tim takes a deep breath.

And then, with Conner standing before him, everything else fades away.

Constantine stepped forward, cigarette dangling from his lips, squinting at the crowd as the faint smoke curled around him like a familiar cloak. He gave a lazy wave of his hand. "Right then, looks like we’re all here." He shot a glance at Steph, his smirk widening. "Not sure how I got roped into this—gotta hand it to blondie there." He finger-gunned her, then turned back to Tim and Conner.

"Love’s a bloody mess, but for some reason, it works for you two. So let’s get on with it, shall we? No more speeches from me. I’ve seen enough sappy stuff for a lifetime." He lazily waved a hand over the crowd, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "We’ve got a few more oddballs than usual, but that’s just Tuesday with this lot. Tim, Conner—if you’re really doing this, forget the fairy tale nonsense. This thing you’ve got? It’s real. And it’s gonna be messy."

His eyes flicked to Bruce, who was doing his best to hide his nerves. "Even Batman’s sweating bullets," he muttered, voice laced with amusement. "Right. Let’s skip the mumbo jumbo and get to the part where we all pretend we aren’t one bad decision away from total chaos."

Tim shifted on his feet, trying his best to look as comfortable as he felt. His fingers subtly adjusted his tie, his heart thumping in his chest. Conner squeezed his hand, his smile easy and reassuring. "Conner, when we first started, I thought you were just this unstoppable force. You know, the classic ‘Superboy, here to wreck everything in his path.’" He gave Conner a sly grin. "But somewhere along the way, I realized... you’re not the wrecking ball. I am." He paused, shaking his head with a small chuckle.

"I’ve always been the guy with a plan, the one who does everything by the book. But with you? I don’t need a plan. You’ve made me realize it’s okay to take a breath, to step back and just... be. You showed me that being with someone doesn’t mean trying to fix the world—it means just existing together, even in the mess."

His gaze softened as he looked at Conner. "So, yeah. I promise to keep being the guy who checks the plans, but also the one who says, ‘Let’s just go for it’ when the world’s going to hell. I promise to love you not just for what we could be, but for what we already are. And I promise... I promise to always have your back. Even if it’s just so I can watch you break the rules I set up."

Conner smiled, his fingers tightening around Tim’s. He chuckled softly, his eyes full of warmth. "Tim, I’ll be honest—I thought I had it all figured out. I was just gonna be Superman’s replacement, his clone, trying to keep everything the same. But then you showed up and... well, now I’m here. Ready to jump into this whole ‘life’ thing, with you, whether I’m ready or not." His expression softened further, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes.

"I don’t need a plan either. I don’t need to have everything figured out. All I need is you. And you know what? That’s enough." He smirked slightly. "I promise to love you even when you overthink things for a hundred hours and still come to the same conclusion. I promise to be there when you need someone to ground you, and I promise to keep pushing you when you need someone to remind you that, yeah, maybe you can take the leap without the parachute."

He winked. "And, uh, I also promise I’ll try not to break too many things while I’m at it."

Constantine glanced at the two of them, cigarette still dangling from his lips, his smirk never faltering. "Alright, alright, I’ve had enough of the mushy stuff, gotta say lovebirds that felt a bit rehearsed." 

Tim blushed while Conner laughed at the comment. 

"Let’s wrap this up before I start getting all sentimental." His eyes swept over the crowd again, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he added, "We all know this is probably the most unhinged wedding in history, and frankly, that’s saying something in a room full of people who’ve died a few times. But hey, it’s theirs. And if they can survive each other, then they can survive anything."

His gaze returned to Tim and Conner, and with mock solemness, he added, “By the power vested in me—barely—I now pronounce you partners in this chaotic, messed-up world. You may now kiss the groom... or the partner, or whatever you two call it."

Tim and Conner shared a quick, tender kiss as the crowd erupted into applause. Bruce cried with big blobs of tears rolling down his face, clearly moved despite himself. Constantine smirked, his voice dry. "Well, that’s a first." 

Chapter Text

Damian hadn't slept in 56 hours. As the (unofficial) head of security, he had deemed himself the only competent member of the family to do his rightful duty—keeping everyone in line.

After all, Brown’s ingenious plan had not only invited some of the most reprehensible individuals in existence, but she had also sealed the island off using magic.

"-tt-" Truly a genius play by Fatgirl.

Like his father, Damian had prepared contingencies.

The island’s defenses were under his control. Those flat-looking rocks along the shores? Mines. Those odd-looking trees? Turrets. Those shifting clouds? Ghostly wraiths, courtesy of Raven.

He had gone over the guest list multiple times, scouring their files in the Batcomputer for exploitable weaknesses. If any of the villains in attendance harbored ill intentions, he would be ready.

All the villains present had one thing in common—they knew the secret identities of the grooms.

Nothing, and he meant it—nothing—would ruin this.

This matrimony would proceed smoothly, for Damian wished for the House of Wayne and the House of El to be united.

The ceremony concluded with the customary rice-throwing. Wasteful.

Then came the reception.

It was held at an old villa that had come with the island’s purchase in the 70s. Sometimes, Damian wondered if his paternal grandparents had ever set foot here.

It was a grand ball, complete with an elaborate spread commemorating Superboy and Red Robin’s many adventures. The detective and artist in him would point out that the use of that particular Red does not line up with Red Robin's color scheme, as the usage of that color invokes a subtle form of aggression according to color psychology.

Something in his mind just chalked up as nothing but incompetence on the organizer's part (fatgirl) "-tt-", not knowing the different shades of Red could mean.

The cake itself was extravagant—no, absurd. A six-foot-tall statue of Red Robin and Superboy in what he could only describe as the "I am the King of the World" pose from Titanic. An absolute eyesore. Damian had never attended a wedding before, but he was certain this was not how it was supposed to be. It looked like a prepubescent birthday party.

Then there was the coffee fountain. An eight-foot-tall monstrosity, cascading dark, rich liquid like a sacred offering to the gods of caffeine. Damian will bet his organs, Drake would immediately bolt over, once the festivities are over.

Photobooths littered the venue, churning out those tacky magnet pictures people stuck on refrigerators. Drake’s Teen Titans had claimed one as their own, no doubt producing countless embarrassing snapshots.

Despite the guest list being a mix of superheroes and villains, certain attendees stood out.

His maternal family—the Al Ghuls. Their presence might have been unusual to outsiders, but to Damian, it was fitting. Drake had wormed his way into their affairs so thoroughly that even his grandfather, Ra’s, considered Timothy an heir.

Then came the Zods. Kryptonian supremacists attending a union of impurity—how ironic. Yet, their ties to the Kents were unquestionable. When you are the last of a species, you tend to put aside differences. Despite having their own table, they were seated with Martha and Pa Kent.

Then the Wilsons. Damian’s family had a long history of animosity with Slade, but apparently, that did not extend to his personal life. Not only were Slade and his mother dating, but Jason was romantically involved with Rose. Respawn, his half-brother, looked as displeased to be here as Damian felt. They lingered near the bar, where Slade drank himself into a quiet haze while Richard, the one tending the bar, watched him with barely concealed disdain.

Then there were the Queens. A dysfunctional mess—perhaps even more so than the Waynes. They were scattered across the venue, moving unpredictably, much like they did in battle. Oliver Queen and Dinah Lance dominated the dance floor, while Emiko Queen engaged in lively conversation with a few heroes.

Despite the god-awful infuriating music Bart, the DJ, was blasting, the reception, from an untrained perspective, seemed... normal. Guests mingled, conversation ebbed and flowed. It was strangely domestic.

Damian wasn’t Cassandra—he couldn’t read body language as flawlessly as she could—but he could feel it. The tension. It slithered beneath the surface, just out of reach, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

Then, finally, the newlyweds arrived.

Their entrance was met with an outpouring of warmth, the crowd erupting into cheers. As if on cue, they stepped into the reception, both slightly awkward, yet undeniably radiant.

Their first dance was a slow, practiced affair. Drake, meticulous as always, counted each step, ensuring he followed the proper rhythm. Conner, ever the reckless one, simply let himself be guided, a lazy grin on his face as he rested his forehead against Drake’s.

Then came the parents’ dance. Bruce, stiff and out of his element, fumbled through a few steps with Drake, his effort both commendable and painfully awkward. Lois, meanwhile, laughed openly as Lex sat off to the side, sulking over the fact that he wasn’t the one dancing with Conner.

And then, at last, the grand feast was unveiled.

Dick had never been more proud of his brother. Though he had to admit, it stung that his little brother was the first to marry when he was the eldest. But as he pondered that, he couldn’t help but smile at his own antics.

He had been chosen as Tim’s best man. A fact that made him teary-eyed when Tim told him. Though, had circumstances been different, he was sure Conner would have been the one standing in his place.

The reception was going great. Damian was having a full-blown debate with Pamela at the buffet table over the ethics of salad. Wally was currently being restrained by multiple Green Lanterns to keep him from devouring the entire buffet. Kori was an inch away from blasting Kite Man, who had made the grave mistake of asking her for a dance.

It was perfect.

Still, Dick couldn’t help but notice a few unexpected faces—people he wouldn’t have thought would be invited, let alone actually attend. And it wasn’t just the villains…

Lobo, for one, was a weird inclusion. The Main Man was currently harassing partygoers, and Dick was pretty sure he saw Damian discreetly plant a bomb in his neck—no doubt commissioned by Amanda Waller.

Elongated Man and Plastic Man being invited together was a rookie mistake, but considering the chaos of this party, it was hard to pinpoint who had made it. Certainly not Steph.

Then there was Guy Gardner. Dick was 100% sure Bruce would have invited KGBeast before ever considering that particular Green Lantern.

Something was amiss…

Before he could put a finger on it, the soft clink of silverware against glass signaled an announcement.

Cassie, Conner’s best woman, stood to give her speech.

"If there’s one thing I’ve learned from knowing these two, it’s that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about growth. Tim and Conner have faced more trials than most couples ever will, and yet they still choose each other. So here’s to them—two idiots who found something worth fighting for." She raised he glass on the direction of the couple, giving them a heartfelt salute.

Of course, Dick, as Tim’s best man, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to follow.

He stood, grinning. "I’ll be honest—I didn’t prepare anything. Which is funny, because Tim always prepares everything. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from being his brother, it’s that he has this incredible ability to make people feel like they belong. He’s stubborn, brilliant, and, against all odds, he found someone just as stubborn and brilliant to match him. So, here’s to Tim and Conner—may their love be as strong as their punches and their arguments as legendary as their victories."

then each of the groomsmen and maids had their own speeches.

Bart Allen zipped through his own speech in seconds—no one but the speedsters caught it. It gave Wally and Barry a full belly laugh which gave the other party goers a curious glance at the inside joke of the speedsters.

Jason simply raised his glass. "You better not mess this up, Timbo." The audience erupted in laughter.

Clark teared up, giving the most wholesome speech about love and hope.

And when it came to Bruce… it was the audience that teared up. Even Ra’s subtly dabbed at his ruined eyeliner. Not that Dick was going to point that out.

Not one to be outdone, Lex Luthor gave his speech—to no one's surprise, an elaborate ode to his own narcissistic accomplishments and superior genes. The audience laughed, some mockingly, others just in sheer disbelief.

For Cass, this was strange.  

She had only ever seen weddings in movies—romanticized moments bathed in soft lighting, swelling music, and picture-perfect endings. Steph had dragged her through enough rom-com marathons to know the clichés by heart. But experiencing it firsthand? Feeling the weight of it, the energy in the air? That was different.   

It was… warm.  

All her life, she had only known how to fight. Raised to be a weapon, molded by hands that never intended for her to be anything else. In that way, she and Conner were the same—both shaped for violence, both finding a way to be something more. But for a weapon to find love, to stand in the light and be held instead of wielded… that was something profound.   

It filled her chest with something she couldn't quite name. Something like hope. Something like inspiration.  

A mischievous smirk curled her lips as a thought crossed her mind—one that would certainly give Bruce a heart attack.  

The bouquet toss was about to begin. The single heroes and villains had lined up, anticipation thrumming in the air like the prelude to battle. But as Cass observed the gathering crowd, she noticed something… off.  

Not tension in the way she was accustomed to—not the sharp, electric charge of imminent violence, the telltale signs of a fight about to break loose. No, this was different. This was rivalry.  

Diana was laughing heartily—right before landing a playful yet brutal punch to Kate’s arm as they lunged for the bouquet. Near the bar, Lois Lane was squaring up against Talia al Ghul, the two women exuding the kind of energy that suggested neither was willing to back down.  

It was deliberate.  

Her gaze flickered across the venue, catching more signs of it.  

At the karaoke stand, Oliver and Barry were locked in a battle of high notes, each trying to one-up the other, while Hal Jordan and Shayera were deep in a betting war, exchanging money like seasoned bookies.  

On the dance floor, Jon was locked in fierce dance off with Cullen, each move more exaggerated and dramatic than the last, determination burning in their eyes.  

This wasn’t a coincidence.  

Someone was pulling the strings, setting people against each other—not in malice, but in a carefully orchestrated chaos.  

And Cass already knew exactly who was behind it.  

Chapter Text

The reception was over, the party ended a little after 9 PM. The guests all left—except for the supposed clans of the family.

The dreaded family dinner was in order.

Duke hadn't been in the family for long. He was still trying to find his role and where he truly belonged. He wasn’t insecure about it, don’t get him wrong. The B-man had this weird thing about ‘found family’ that he took to an extreme—especially when the family consisted of a crime lord, assassins, and a multiverse serial killer father.

He had only ever attended family dinners twice, and that was when neither Damian nor Tim were present at the same time.

Having been adopted just a little over three months ago, he wasn’t particularly close to the family—and certainly not the vigilante family.

This was a whole new thing for him.

The dining room was grand, the kind of thing only the wealthiest of the wealthiest could buy—high ceilings with chandeliers, rich mahogany paneling, and an impossibly long table covered in a massive feast enough to feed a whole ahh festival. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of the gourmet dishes, but beneath all that, Duke felt something far less pleasant simmered.

Tension.

It was thick enough to slice through, This afterparty dinner was meant to be a celebration—a quiet, intimate moment for family. But, of course, with this family, Duke knew “quiet” and “intimate” were nothing but pipe dreams.

Duke understood that family is family but whoever's idea it was to include several villains in the family dinner was out of their mind.

There are people in the seats who he knew are kind of related to them like the Al Ghuls, Luthors, and Zods. But only at that moment when he asked Steph, that apparently William Cobb, Talon of the court of owls, perching at the windowsill, is the great grandfather of Dick, or how Lady Shiva is Cass' mother or, or how Damian apparently has a twin...

To be honest, he was so out of depth that he kind of realized he should just eat his own food and mind his own business.

Duke loved Alfred’s cooking, don’t get him wrong. He just happened to like his food a little saltier, that’s all. Eyeing the salt shaker, he realized it was just one person over. He hadn’t been in elite society long enough to know that standing up and reaching over the table for the salt was frowned upon, but he wasn’t about to let himself be stereotyped—especially when there were quite literally supremacists and eco-terrorists seated at the table.

Duke cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. His fingers hovered over his plate before reaching for the salt. He hesitated. Across from him, Lex Luthor sat, stiff-backed, expression unreadable.

"Hey, um… can you pass the salt?"

Lex didn’t blink. Instead, he picked up the salt shaker, examined it as if considering its worth, then smirked—and deliberately slid it further away.

Duke blinked. "Seriously?"

Selina, perched elegantly in her chair, swirling a glass of red wine, groaned. "God, why are you even here?"

Lex, adjusting his pristine cufflinks, barely spared her a glance. "Because I am Conner’s biological father. Unlike you, you thieving broad—"

Lois sighed heavily, already rubbing her temples. "Oh my God, here we go again…"

A few seats down, Slade leaned toward Rose, whispering behind his hand. "Are they really not gonna question why we’re here? We’re not even related to them."

Rose, casually stabbing a fork into her steak, shrugged and nodded toward Respawn, who sat beside Damian, silently eating like this was just another Tuesday. "I think it’s because Damian and Respawn are technically twins."

At the head of the table, Bruce barely lifted his gaze from his plate. His tone was as dry as the Sahara. "Blood relation means nothing, Lex."

Dick, ever the peacemaker, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "To quote Maya Angelou, ‘Family isn’t always blood; it’s the people in your life who want you in theirs.’”

There was a beat of silence. Then, without warning, Lex shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the table as he pointed furiously at the far end.

Kate, watching with amused interest, raised an eyebrow and took another sip of her wine. "Now this is gonna be interesting."

Clark, already weary, sighed. "Lex, sit down."

Lex ignored him, his face contorting with fury. "For all my intellect and prowess, what I don’t understand is—WHY ARE THEY HERE?!"

His finger jabbed toward the Al Ghuls.

Talia, regal as ever, didn’t even flinch. She simply arched an elegant brow before reaching for her wine glass, taking a deliberate sip. "Quit embarrassing yourself, Luthor."

Selina, unimpressed, rolled her eyes. "Would you please move on?"

Talia’s expression darkened. "No." She placed her glass down with a quiet clink, her voice turning cold. "You are only his girlfriend, while I am the mother of his sons."

Slade raised an eyebrow to Talia. "Aren’t we dating?”

Talia turned toward him and scowled.

Selina leaned forward, her voice deceptively soft, her nails tapping against the polished wood. "No sane mother trains her children to be weapons of war."

Lady Shiva eyed Cassandra and told her daughter "eat your dinner dear."

Talia smirked, unfazed. "You haven’t seen this mother." With a smooth motion, she unsheathed a dagger and placed it beside her plate like a napkin.

Damian, who had been trying (and failing) to enjoy his meal, finally snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply. "Mothers. Can you not? This is embarrassing."

Minkhoa, leaning back casually, smirked and raised his glass. "As far as I’m concerned, I’m the spouse."

Bruce turned to him, his tone low and exhausted. "Please, I beg of you—don’t do this, Minkhoa."

Stephanie, keeping track of the escalating madness, leaned toward Tim and whispered, "Okay, I get why Talia is here, but why is he here?" She nodded toward Ra’s al Ghul. "Didn’t he… steal your spleen?"

Ra’s, ever the picture of composed arrogance, lifted his wine glass in a small toast. "I am Talia’s father, which makes me the Detective’s father-in-law. By extension, Timothy’s grandfather."

A sharp click echoed beneath the table.

The room stilled.

Alfred, casually adjusted his sleeves, the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked fading into the silence.

Jason let out a low whistle to Ra’s. "Crazy mental gymnastics there, geezer."

Martha Kent whispered to her husband; "at this point we should've stolen Kon's spleen too" 

Ra’s simply sipped his drink, his expression serene. "It is a shame that the Detective’s choice to spend eternity is with that abomination—"

Lex immediately bristled. "You take that back!" He slammed a hand on the table, his face turning red. "He’s genetically perfect! He’s half of my love—I mean, rival, and half of me! Me! You ancient, camel-riding, Alibaba-looking—"

Chaos erupted across the table.

Dick banged his fist. "HEY!!"

Jon shot up, hands raised. "WOAH, WOAH!"

“For once I agree with the bald headed ape” Ursa pointed her fork to Lex.

At the other end of the table, Jim Gordon leaned toward Barbara and muttered, "Is it always like this?"

Barbara didn’t even look up from her plate. "Only during the holidays."

Jim sighed, taking a long sip from his glass. "Remind me not to attend during the holidays."

Luke, mid-sip, choked on his drink, eyes wide. "Neglecting the part where Lex just admitted to—"

Lucius, beside him, calmly placed a hand on his shoulder. "I strongly advise you don’t add fuel to… whatever this is."

Minkhoa, still smirking, added, "I mean, he’s not wrong."

Tim, deadpan, leaned lazily against Conner. "Well, that checks my ‘racism at the table’ bingo card."

Azrael, silent until now, suddenly stood, pointing an accusatory finger. His voice rang with righteous fury. "You are all sinners! I condemn this unholy matrimony! No man can marry a man, much less one born of unnatural means—"

Conner, unimpressed, rolled his eyes. He reached over and marked something on an invisible list. "And there goes the homophobia one."

Meanwhile, Duke watched as Minkhoa laughed maniacally, randomly punching Bruce, which triggered the rest of the chaos to follow.

Rose whispers to Slade “and they call us a dysfunctional family…jeez”

Tim nodded, pretending to check his own. "That completes the column. Bingo."

Cass gave a disappointed look to Tim and shook her head.

Steph accused tim “did you seriously set all these up so that you can have your wedding bingo?"

Tim shrugged and sipped his coffee smugly as pure madness descended upon the table.

Clark rubbed his temples. Lois looked like she regretted every life choice that had led her here.

Across the table, Zod exchanged a look with Ursa before turning to Chris. "Child, tell me again why we’re here?"

Mr. Oz (Jor-El) sighed. "Got a lovely family over there, Mr. Wayne."

Flashpoint Batman (Thomas Wayne) grunted. "Hn." as the two old grandfathers watch the scene unfold.

Everyone stood with their own fighting stance as swords, bullets, and chairs went flying across the table. 

The food was long forgotten.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Damian muttered, "I’m not getting married."

Alfred let out a long, suffering sigh. He wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed, exasperated, or proud.

Probably all three.

Duke, for his part still sat at his own chair. eating his own food with one hand on the spoon and the other holding the plate as the table was flipped to provide cover for the combatants.

Not salted.