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Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “You mean to tell me that, upon your one-night-stand finding your costume in your closet, you just told him straight-up your secret identity? No dancing around the truth, no attempt to pretend you were an eager fan?”
Dick shrugged. “Figured cosplay could be a boner-killer.” He was perched like a bird on the ledge.
All four bat sons were in full vigilante get-up and standing on the rooftop of Bludhaven's Parks and Recreation headquarters. Normally, men in tights atop government buildings after midnight was a standard sight, but the scene was made odd by the additional presence of a Bludhaven police officer. Among the intense and colorful array of black-haired boys, Gannon stuck out with his crop of blonde hair and prosaic sweater.
Dick sighed. “Look, I'm not being completely irresponsible. I brought you all to this meeting, right? So we could make important decisions together?”
“Oh!” Jason said suddenly. “I have a decision!” Quick as a whip, he grabbed hold of Gannon and cocked a gun to his head. Gannon's eyes widened and he latched onto Jason's arm, but the grip was steely. “Why don't we just shoot his brains out, and boom! Problem solved!”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Even you're not that cruel. Despite all efforts to prove otherwise,” he tacked on, tone unimpressed.
Jason's head swiveled toward him. “I'll be the judge of that. Nerd.”
Dick leaped to his feet and stepped forward. “Aw. Is this a jealousy thing? You know I love both you and Gannon equally.” He placed a palm on his chest.
“Shut up, you narcissistic bitch.”
Dick stuck out his bottom lip in a pout.
“Hey!” Damian snapped, fists curling at his sides. “Don't you dare address him like that!”
“Guys,” cut in Tim. “Squabbling like kids isn't going to solve anything. Honestly, this is incredibly immature.”
“Ooh, some words of wisdom from my least favorite Robin,” Jason quipped. “Keep acting above us all. You might just convince Bruce to make you his favorite.”
“This isn't about favorites.” Tim pointed to Gannon. “This is a serious matter and you're all treating it like a joke. Do any of you have an idea of how much is at risk because of Officer Malloy's knowledge?”
“I swear, I won't tell,” Gannon pleaded.
Tim gave him a sympathetic look. “I would love nothing more than to believe you. But not believing anyone is kind of the golden rule of running with the Batman.”
Damian huffed. “Well, I don't believe him either. Oh, and Red Hood?” he asked. “Red Robin would never be the favorite.” He sniffed delicately, button nose tilting upward. “That's a ridiculous notion.”
Jason chuckled. “I don't know about that. Red Robin sure is good at kissing ass. He'll catch up to Dickhead over here in no time.”
“I told you not to address him like that,” Damian scolded.
“No, you told me not to call him a bitch.”
“Anyway,” redirected Damian, “Nightwing is not the favorite. I am.” Damian looked up at Dick and hastened, “Though you, of course, are second. No doubt, you would be first, if I were not alive.” He tossed a scowl at Tim. “But I am.”
“Unfortunately,” Tim said dryly.
Jason groaned. “Can I shoot the cop now?”
Dick threw his hands up. “Sure! Go ahead!” he chirped, sweeping his arm in a proceed fashion.
Jason did nothing.
“Ha! Red Robin totally called it!” Dick grinned and snapped his fingers.
Jason roughly pushed Gannon away and stuffed his gun back in its holster, every movement grouchy. “Honestly, the more time I spend on this roof, the more I'd rather spend my bullets on wasting you assholes.”
“I'm touched,” Dick said sweetly.
“Yeah, in the crazy way.”
“You wound me. Is this because I ended our torrid love affair? I'm sorry, Hood. But what I have with Gannon is very special,” Dick assured.
It should be noted that, despite Dick's emotional words, Gannon felt acutely mocked.
“Can you stop talking?” Jason asked. “No, seriously.” He waved his hand. “Can you literally just stop talking?”
Dick appeared to think about it, tapping a gloved finger on his chin.
“I cannot believe that the ten year-old has been the most mature out of all three of you,” commented Tim.
“Wait,” Gannon interrupted. He turned to Damian. “You’re ten?”
Damian sent him a withering look. “I know my intellect is leagues beyond yours, and my articulation of thoughts and ability to not stand there like a dumb dog with my mouth open to catch flies, distinguishes me from you. But please, as a sworn protector of an entire city, do try not to be blind.” Damian scoffed. “Of course, I’m ten.”
Gannon’s jaw dropped. He clicked it shut, though, because something in the child’s glare warned him he was proving the bastard’s point.
Jason whistled lowly. “Savage.”
“That’s it,” announced Tim. “I’m calling Oracle.”