Chapter Text
Jason was having a fucking terrible day, which meant, of course, that Dick had to come home early from work. He couldn't just deal with the migraines and flashbacks on his own, no. He had to deal with his older brother, too. Dick danced through the door to whatever song he was listening to. He paused for a second, surveying the room, before pushing the armchair in front of the door like Jason didn't have state-of-the-art security. Then he continued banging an imaginary set of drums as he wandered into his bedroom.
Romeo got up from where he'd been effectively pinning Jason to the ground, staring at the bedroom door curiously. He woofed, tilted his head, then turned to look at Jason.
"Yeah, buddy," Jason said, scratching his dog's ears. "I don't know what's up with him either."
Dick returned a second later with a stack of blankets, then flopped down in front of Jason. Romeo laid down next to him, resting his head on Dick's lap.
"I got dosed with fear toxin," his older brother said, taking out his earbuds. Casually, like he was talking about a new haircut or the weather. "I already took the antidote." He started to fidget with the bracelets on his wrists, twisting them tighter until they had to hurt.
"What the hell?" Jason asked after a moment, reaching over to grab his brother's hands. That did explain why Dick was back before noon and wearing ratty sweatpants and a t-shirt instead of his police uniform. It also explained the armchair in front of the door. It didn't explain, however, why the dumbass wasn't at a hospital under observation.
"It was a basic formula," Dick said, yanking his hands free so he could wrap a huge fleece blanket tightly around Jason. He followed it up with a weighted blanket. "Some guys were trying to rob a bank and decided that daytime would be a better bet since there's no Bat." He handed Jason a stuffed animal, frowning when he didn't take it. "They also had some canisters of fear toxin to deal with the police, but joke's on them, I'm basically immune to that stuff now. It took out most of them for me because they messed up the firing mechanism and got the whole room. Thankfully, it was just them and me, and I wasn't even entirely in the room. My boss still made me go home early."
It was a side-effect of being a Gotham vigilante that all the lower-level drugs and gases no longer affected them. Bruce had even deliberately dosed them with low levels of the most common toxins they might run into to build up their tolerance. That, however, didn't mean they were immune. Even with an antidote, getting dosed with fear toxin still sucked. It usually meant shivers and emotional instability for the next couple of hours or so. If Dick had gone back to the Manor, Alfred would've had him in the med bay before Dick could even get a word out in protest.
His older brother looked dangerously close to crying, so Jason closed his laptop and squeezed the stuffed animal with a sigh. The most he could do for Dick, since there would be no getting him to a hospital or even Lesley's clinic, was to go along with whatever his older brother wanted to do for a while. Which apparently looked like letting his older brother smother him in blankets and pillows.
Dick gave a self-satisfied nod, then sprang to his feet and darted to the kitchen. He rummaged around the fridge for a moment before pulling out a couple cans of ginger ale and some cheese. Jason watched with concern as Dick spun around, nearly dropping everything, before sighing and shaking his head. He grabbed two pints of Ben and Jerry's from the freezer, too, and then wandered back over to sit in front of Jason. Romeo, this time, half clambered into Dick's lap, draping over him and firmly pinning him down.
"I forgot the spoons," Dick said sadly, staring at the pile of snacks. "Can I use one of your knives?"
"What?" Jason asked, reaching over to bundle Dick up in blankets too. He could see the dumbass shaking. "Hell no, but Timbit taped a plastic spoon to each lid. He said it was more convenient that way."
"He's a smart kid," Dick said delightedly, opening one pint and handing it to Jason before grabbing his own. He was in the middle of a bite when a thought occurred to him. "What are you doing sitting on the floor?"
"Desk is directly in front of the window," Jason explained. "And when I tried holing up in my bedroom, Spook and Specter started clawing up furniture until I opened the door and let Romeo drag me out. So, corner it is."
Spook lazy lifted his head at the mention of his name while his brother continued to doze in the patch of sunlight they had claimed. He surveyed the situation and promptly went back to sleep. Honestly, a nap was starting to sound better. Maybe he could wake up in a world where migraines didn't exist, and Dick wasn't such a dumbass.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Dick said through a mouthful of ice cream.
"About what?" Jason asked, taking a bite of his own.
"About the day you're having," Dick said.
"You're hopped up on fear gas right now," Jason said with an eye roll. "I don't think right now is the time for any emotional heart-to-heart conversations."
"Gotta do something," Dick said. "Or else I'm going to lose my mind."
"What you should be doing is checking into a hospital," Jason said. "Can't believe your boss let you go home."
"Well," Dick hedged. "Might've convinced her I didn't get hit directly, and my partner owes me, so he didn't say anything. I just really didn't want to go to the hospital. I just wanted to go home."
"Did you even know I was gonna be here?" Jason asked, focusing on his ice cream so he wouldn't have to see Dick's puppy dog eyes. How a grown-ass man still managed to make that expression was beyond Jason.
"Nah," Dick said simply.
"So you were gonna ride out the fear toxin after effects by yourself," Jason said flatly.
"Yup," Dick said, popping the 'p.'
Jason contemplated banging his head against the wall for a moment. He didn't know how to react to such a Dick Grayson statement. Laughing or crying both seemed to be good options, though. He settled on not saying anything at all and took another bite of ice cream instead.
"Watcha working on?" Dick asked after a moment.
"I was working on inventory management," Jason said. "Don't think I'll be working on that anymore."
Dick nodded. "Nice knives, by the way. I don't think I've ever seen these ones before." He picked up one of the throwing knives Jason had placed nearby, along with a loaded gun. They had green stained leather hilts, with gold stitching tracing out an intricate geometric design. Dick experimentally flipped one and then threw it across the room, embedding it in the wall almost to the hilt. The walls were already riddled with bullet holes and bad patching jobs, but Jason still flipped him off. They were trying to get better about throwing weapons around.
"Be careful with them," Jason said. "Talia gave them to me." He wasn't sure why the hell he was sharing that particular tidbit of information because he had been spending most of the day doing his damned best not to think about the League of Assassins.
(It hadn't been working. His mind kept wandering back to fighting in the arena, missions he'd never be able to forget, and the fact that if Tim or Dick ever knew everything he had done or had planned to do, they'd probably leave. And Jason would tell them to take Damian along too, 'cause the kid deserved some kind of normal life.)
Dick almost dropped the second knife he had picked up, exhaling sharply. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he only put the knife down.
Jason could guess what was going through his brother's mind. "They're…familiar."
"Familiar?" Dick said softly, almost like he didn't want to ask.
"I always had them on me," Jason said. "Talia always supplied me with the best weapons so I could keep Damian safe, but those were special. Don't know why exactly. Can't tell you the number of times those knives saved our lives."
"Romeo, let me up for a moment?" Dick asked, looking down at the dog on his lap. "Just for a second. I need to get something from my room."
With a protesting bark, Romeo got up and followed Dick as he darted into his bedroom again. He reappeared with a handful of wingdings, which he placed near Jason. Then he gathered up the knives, making a mess of the drywall as he pried the one free, and put them in the keys basket.
"There you go," he said, sitting down and bundling himself up again. Romeo draped himself across Dick's lap, closing his eyes and, for all intents and purposes, going to sleep.
Jason snorted. "Thanks. Want to look for houses?"
"What?" Dick asked.
"You know, four walls and a roof?" Jason said. "Sometimes has a garden or a yard? Accommodations for a family which are usually bigger than an apartment? Sometimes, but not always, has multiple floors and —"
"You're hilarious," Dick said drily. "But why?"
"I've been thinking this place is too small," Jason said. "Tim's moving here permanently soon. Wouldn't be surprised if Damian finds a way to convince B to let him live with you, too. We have a large dog and two cats, and I'm not naive enough to believe that we're gonna stop there."
Dick hummed. "Somewhere in the city or suburbs?"
"City," Jason said, opening his laptop. "I've already looked at a couple different places, but I haven't found anything I really like yet."
Dick made grabby hands, so Jason handed the laptop over. He looked some things up and then placed the computer between them, revealing a website called Zillow.
"Budget?" Dick asked.
"I'm a crime lord," Jason said. "Take a wild fucking guess about how much money I'm willing to drop on this."
"Okay," Dick said, putting the minimum at three million. "And we want somewhere near the center of the city. How strong is your civilian cover?"
"What?" Jason asked. "And I don't want to live in some uppity place either."
"They're going to go over your spending and banking history with a fine tooth comb if you're buying a really nice place," Dick said, switching back to no minimum. "I'll have Tim look it over. So what kind of vibe are we looking for?"
"Vibe?"
"You know, how do you want the house to feel?"
"What."
"Like modern or older? Style? I don't know. When you walk into it, what do you want to experience?"
Dick's phone rang, saving Jason from that frankly bizarre conversation. "Hiya B, what's up?… How did you know?" Dick sighed and lowered the phone, hitting the mute button. "He's my emergency contact, so my work contacted him after I got dosed. He'll be swinging by later to my apartment after he gets out of work and stops lecturing me."
"I'll drive you," Jason offered. "There's a dog park near your place, and Romeo needs to go out anyways."
"What were you going to make for dinner?" Dick asked. He picked up the phone after turning it off mute. "Sounds great, B. I'll see you for dinner." Then he hung up.
"That spinach and sausage pasta," Jason said.
Dick clutched his chest and fell back dramatically. "Can't believe I'm missing out on that for takeout and awkward, hypocritical conversations with Bruce about taking better care of myself."
"Come on, let's get going," Jason said, getting up. "If you're not there before B, he'll get suspicious."
"He's already suspicious," Dick said, trying to shove Romeo off his lap. "That's his natural state, you know? Tim and Damian are always hanging out here, so they're never at the Manor, which has him brooding all day. I might've been able to convince Babs and Alfred that they're at my place, but Bruce came up with half a dozen doomsday scenarios as to why they aren't spending most of their free time around the Manor anymore." He finally got free and sprang to his feet, brushing off dog hair. "You should really speak to Babs and Alfred, though. I hate lying to them about everything."
"Yeah?" Jason asked. "Been thinking about it. I'm not sure if they'd want to see me again, though."
"If anyone should know that you're back, it's them," Dick said, gathering up the snacks. He was oddly focused on getting everything stacked just right. "They're the ones who did the best keeping your memory alive, you know? I was getting blackout drunk every other day, and Bruce was doing his level best to end up in a grave next to yours, but they both found better ways to remember you by. Babs started a library program, you know? To raise money so libraries can host lectures on different topics. Alfred still drops off pies and cookies every Friday at different Crime Alley soup kitchens, and he started the Catherine Todd Community Gardens. It sponsors green areas all over the city."
Dick was too good of a performer to sound rehearsed, but Jason still had a feeling that he practiced that little speech a couple times in front of the mirror. His older brother had been thinking about bringing this up for a while. And Jason had been thinking about talking to Babs and Alfred again for a while too, but, well, it was complicated like everything else in his damn second life. Sometimes, all of it had him wondering if the second chance was worth it.
Jason handed Dick an insulated bag with a sigh before grabbing a leash and harness for Romeo. Specter's ears perked up, and after a moment's consideration, he stood up and stretched. Then he started hitting his brother until the other cat got up, too.
"You two wanna come to the dog park, too?" he asked, hoping Dick would get the hint and drop it. "Not sure if you'll like it."
"Seriously, Jaybird," Dick said. "Think about it. Please."
"I have been," Jason said. "But do you think they deserve this?"
Dick dropped the bag. "What the hell, Jason? If anyone deserves to know that you came back, it's—"
"I'm not Robin Jason Todd anymore, alright?" Jason said, cutting him off brusquely. Fine, if Dick wanted to push this, then they would fucking talk about it. "The kid Babs and Alfred started all those community programs for? To remember him by? He's still buried six feet under. And I've been trying to figure out which is worse. Never telling them I came back or letting them know I came back wrong."
"Jason —"
"Don't lie to me, Dick," Jason said. "Don't fucking lie to me, alright? I know damn well that whoever I was way back then wouldn't recognize me. I've changed a lot, and I'm starting to think I've changed too much to be the same person."
"Tim doesn't think so," Dick said gently. "Damian loves you more than anyone else."
"But they didn't know me before," Jason said, taking a deep breath. His migraine was starting to come back. "They only know me now, and I'm happy to pretend for them that I'm a decent enough person. If Tim wants to believe I'm still the same kid I was way back then, fine. We've actually talked about it before. Kid brings up some pretty great points about how everyone changes as they grow up. But we both know that's a lie because I didn't get the chance to grow up. I came back instead, and I came back angry and willing to cross all sorts of lines I'd never even considered back when I was Robin. You know I had been planning a much more explosive return? Bomb under the Batmobile, duffle bag of severed heads, beating Tim unconscious just to prove a point to B?"
"But you didn't." It was pissing Jason off that Dick sounded so sure that he was right. Because, of course, Dick fucking Grayson had to know everything. Just because he said it, it had to be so. Jason took another deep breath, willing the pressure behind his eyes away. "Because that's not you. You might've considered doing that once upon a time, but you brought Damian home instead. You would have never done any of those things."
"Really?" Jason asked, crossing his arms. "You know why I ran away from home?"
"Don't try to change the topic," Dick said. He'd finally dropped the soft and gentle tone, anger leaking through. "We're talking about you here and right now."
"You know why I ran away from home and found Sheila?" Jason asked again. "You know why I ended up dying in that warehouse? 'Cause Bruce thought I'd killed someone. And I couldn't believe it, 'cause I would never. And now look at me. Body count climbing higher every day and a drug empire. Do you think Babs and Alfred would be proud of me?"
"You're doing your best," Dick said, bordering on shouting. "Why can't you see that?"
"Just drive yourself," Jason said, tossing the car keys at Dick.
Dick didn't catch them. "We're having this conversation whether you want to have it or not."
"You know, I don't remember a lot from before I died," Jason said. "But I do remember all the fights you had with Bruce. And I know you said you were never going to be like him, but — ow, fucking hell, Spook, Specter, what the fuck?"
His two cats had launched themselves across the room and started clawing at his legs. Jason bent down and scooped up his two hissing cats, which gave Romeo the perfect opportunity to body him. He ended up buried underneath his dog and two very smug-looking cats.
Dick closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it go. He bent down and grabbed the keys and bags. "This wasn't the best time to have this conversation, was it? When we're both so jumpy?"
"Probably not," Jason agreed, watching Dick move the armchair back to where it belonged.
"We do need to talk, though, at some point about this, okay?" Dick asked, turning around to look Jason in the eye.
"What is there to talk about?" Jason asked, trying to get up. But Romeo had gone completely limp, pawing at Jason's hands whenever he tried to move them.
"That," Dick said. He walked over to the door and paused. "You know, you don't remember Babs and Alfred at all if you think they'd judge you for who you've become. The things you've done? Red Hood? All of that won't mean a damn thing to them. You have no idea what your death did to them and is still doing to them. You've never struck me as a coward before, Jason. You certainly weren't one when you were Robin."
With that particularly damning statement hanging in the air, Dick left.