Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night was overwhelming, but that was all far away and long ago.

Up here, he was surrounded by sky. Safe. Free.

Dick grinned to himself as he leaned back, curling up in the girders of the billboard on the apartment roof. It was nice, being grounded with nothing but air below.

The pages of his book crinkled as he read. Perhaps Gotham should be thankful for the light pollution and smog; it made it easier to read at night.

He liked high places. It was easier to think, easier to see.

And if his mind strayed sometimes?

Minds did that. He wasn’t special. There was no need to panic people over something that was totally under control, thank you very much.

The thud of heavy boots behind him alerted him to the presence of an observer. Dick sighed.

Never a moment’s peace.

He ignored the very loud shuffling movements behind him and pointedly turned the page. The main character had an exceptionally witty line and Dick snorted before catching himself. But it was too late.

“You think it’s funny, huh?”

The voice was low and mechanized. Probably that new crime lord in Gotham. Red Hood, if he wasn’t mistaken?

“You know, I was actually worried for a second. But you’d rather be wasting everyone’s time even when there’s people who really do need help.” The disgust came through loud and clear, even with the voice filter.

And that- huh. That was pretty callous. A point toward possibly Hood knowing his identity?

Dick raised an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch. When no clarifications were forthcoming and the vigilante didn’t seem inclined to depart, he offered a reply.

“You know, I never asked you to interfere. Is reading a book a crime?”

“Reading that book is a crime.”

“How dare you insult the good name of Sir Pratchett!”

There was the distinct feeling that eye rolling was happening, Dick idly kicked his legs, framing the street between his dangling feet. “I just… I like it up here.”

“Right. Well, it’s concerning for the good people below. Who knows what cars or storefronts you might damage if you slipped.” Hood deadpanned.

“Aww, you don’t need to worry about little old me. Feel free to move along with a clear conscience.”

Dick reburied himself in the book but noticed out of his periphery the Red Hood was still lingering. After several pages he sighed and lowered the book.

“Why are you still lurking like a college stalker?”

“Why would you tempt fate like that after how your parents died?”

Dick wasn’t expecting that and reeled back, curling up against the cold metal. He gripped the beam below him tightly and let the gritty rust ground him, let the metal sap his heat and hopefully cool his head before he did something stupid like launch himself at a crime lord as Richie Wayne.

“You want to rephrase that?” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I don’t expect you to understand, but my parents loved me. They wanted me to feel the same joy and trust they did, not to live in fear.”

The Hood snorted. “Whatever. It’s not like there’s a difference between living in fear and taking stupid risks or nuthin'. But no, you’re the Golden Boy and rules don’t apply to you.”

“Or I just don’t care.”

A charged silence. Dick kept his gaze firmly fixed down on the book. What did it matter anyway? Not like this rando would be able to do anything with that. Richie was impervious to this sort of thing. Ah, the power of a history of the most obstinate obliviousness to curse mankind.

He cleared his throat and continued, “If it’s that important to you, I’ll head back in for tonight.”

Dick leapt to his feet and wove his way along the beam back to the roof, patting the glowering figure on the shoulder as he passed. A garbled hiss echoed through the speaker and the Hood looked about ready to lash out. Dick’s proximity to the edge was probably the only thing to save him. He strode to the door and was about to pass through when he heard the low voice behind him.

“That it?”

Dick glanced over his shoulder, book dangling from one hand as he held open the door. “Um. Yeah. What else were you expecting? I already told you I’m not jumping.”

“Well, yeah, but I thought…”

Dick waited but no more was forthcoming. He shrugged and let the door fall closed behind him. The Hood certainly seemed interesting. Volatile, but not a bad guy at heart. Definitely had a vendetta, be it against the Bats or the Waynes.

So sue him. He was on a rooftop again, this time as Richie.

The party was just too loud. Why Bruce had thought it would be a good idea to host a party at Wayne Enterprises, Dick had no idea.

He sighed. This rooftop wasn’t as fun.

His rooftop at home had lots of niches to slot himself into, and other rooftops at similar levels Richie could pace around. Wayne Enterprises? It was a mountain amidst the sea of buildings. Almost not worth the effort. The views though…

A thud behind him announced the arrival of another. The mechanized groan that followed revealed Hood’s identity. Dick didn’t even have to turn around, but he did, a bright mindless smile plastered on his face.

Richie Wayne had a reputation to maintain.

“You again?” Richie didn’t even have the brain capacity to feel offended by that. It just rolled off him, like water off a loon.

“Hood!” He threw his arms around the crime lord, who made a retching sound and peeled him off.

“I missed your shiny face. Have you been avoiding me?” Richie pouted, shooting puppy dog eyes upwards.

“Stop! Just stop! You weren’t acting like this last time, so you don’t need to put on the show, okay?!”

Dick sighed, dropping the façade. “Yeah, okay, whatever. It’s just been a long day. I hate galas. Too many people who don’t know the meaning of personal space…”

“You’re one to talk! You literally just wrinkled my best jacket!”

Dick’s eyes lingered pointedly on the many bloodstains and scuffs marring the leather.

“I never said what it was best for, did I?”

They stared out over the city for a while. The smog scratched at the back of Dick’s throat. He thought he could see the river in the distance, with the Market set up on its surface. He’d visited before but didn’t particularly love how the river crunched under foot, and yes, caught fire on occasion.

“Do I need to be concerned?”

Dick waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, not on Wayne Enterprises. That would be quite the look. Boohoo, I’m mad at Bruce so I threw myself off his building. I’ll be the first to admit he’s not Parent of the Year, but he’s already taken over enough of my life as it is. No need to give him my death too.”

There was a growl from the Hood. Dick got the feeling he was in treacherous waters and moved on quickly.

 “What’s a fine crime lord like yourself doing up here anyway?”

“Well, I saw a desperate socialite hanging out on top of one of Gotham’s tallest buildings and thought, ‘There’s a person who’s doing just fine. Let me go congratulate them.’ What do you think, Dick?”

“Right, right. Now you know; I’m fine. Move on with your night. Just needed the fresh air.”

Ash from the nearby warehouse fires blew between them.

“Fresh air.”

A raven wheezed by before struggling to land on the building’s edge. It hacked in the background as the two men stared each other down, willing the other to break first.

“Ugh, fine!” Dick threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll find another hiding spot! Why do you have to be so picky?”

“Just trying to do a good deed and you go and make it difficult. Stop trying to give me a heart attack, okay? Just… stay inside like a normal person. Leave roofs to the professionals.”

“These roofs have been my playground since I was eight, Hood. Eight! If anyone is a professional here, it’s me.”

In an instant, a gun was pressed against his forehead and a low voice rumbled in his ear, “Is that so? In your professional opinion, how would you handle this.”

Dick considered. Richie would know the classic insole stomp. But a glance at his footwear showed that this would not be a viable option. He went for it anyway and then made a production of hopping around on one foot, cursing.

“You win this round Hood! But I’ll be back, you’ll see! Rooftop lurking is my speciality!”

“Why. Just why.”

Chapter Text

Somehow, their rooftop visits had become routine. Dick was fond of roofs anyway, and in due time, the Red Hood would inevitably find him and scold him off of them.

There were nights he didn’t make it. Nights when the Red Hood showed up covered in blood, shoulders heaving, and left without a word; nights where he lurked in the shadows nearby without ever stopping to say hello.

Dick didn’t begrudge him that. To be honest, he didn’t really know why the crime lord was still hanging around him anyway. At this point, he had to have figured out that Richie Wayne wasn’t an active suicide risk.

It was more of a passive thing.

If it was a thing, that is, which Dick wasn’t admitting to himself.

Then there was the night that the Red Hood had showed up casually with a swinging takeaway bag, filling the air with the delicious scent of curry. Dick… hadn’t been doing well. Even basic daily tasks were too much right now. Dishes piled high on every surface, and the bedroom floor was barely visible through the drifts of clothing.

Hoping to find the inspiration to take that first step, Dick had dragged himself to the rooftop. He hadn’t gone near the roof’s edge, not on a day like today. He wasn’t stable enough.

The Hood had found him curled up by the ventilation ducts and had plopped down next to him, spreading out the food without so much as a word. Dick hadn’t been able to concentrate on much, but the smell of the spices and the sounds of the Hood thoroughly enjoying himself had slowly pulled him out of his stupor.

(He had found it rather odd that the Hood had engineered a way to remove only the portion of the helmet covering his mouth, but there were stranger suits).

After that night, rooftop dinners had become a frequent occurrence, with Dick often bringing his dinner up to eat on rooftops and just so happening to have too much food. The Hood always waited for Dick to eat first but then would join in with gusto.

“What’s this.”

The young man’s body language wasn’t giving away anything. Dick began anxiously rambling.

“Oh, you know, it’s nothing really. I just remembered you had some strong opinions. I was going to get you my favorite Discworld book since you seemed to love them so much, but that sounded cruel for a present, so I went with the gift card. I just wanted to thank you. I mean, not that I was ever in any real danger, of course. But… it’s nice to know someone cares, you know?”

The Red Hood stood there, not moving for an extremely uncomfortable amount of time.  Finally, he spoke.

“It seems you are getting entirely the wrong idea about me.”

The gloved hand snapped into a fist, breaking the gift card in half. Dick couldn’t help himself. He gave a small gasp as the pieces fell to the ground.

Suddenly, Dick found himself slamming into the wall, the vigilante’s blank helmet eerily close to his face. The voice emitting from it was closer to a growl than normal speech.

“I am an extremely dangerous man. I have and will decapitate whoever so much as inconveniences me. However, luckily for Gotham City, I am a merciful and gracious lunatic crime lord. If the mood strikes, I’ll save someone down on their luck. I mistook you for one of those. Silly me.”

Dick shivered, feeling blood trickle down one shoulder from where it had impacted the brickwork. Hood leaned impossibly close, head tilted as he hissed out his parting words.

“If you think I care about the likes of you, you’re crazier than I thought you were.”

The Hood stopped visiting after that night.

Dick hung out on various rooftops, sometimes with food and sometimes without, but he never had any luck.

It was official.

Dick had scared him away.

From the midst of the tangle of pipes, Dick peered down on the scene below. If his previous nights of stalking weren’t in vain, right about now…

The Hood swung down into the flickering circle of light where the women were gathered.

The ladies of what profession Dick couldn’t possibly guess greeted the crime lord with enthusiasm. The acrobat was too far away to make out what was being said, but the ease of body language in the group showed long familiarity and some level of trust.

Once Hood had swung off into the night, Dick maneuvered out of the ductwork jungle and made his way toward the bunch, ensuring there was a bounce in his step and a smile on his face.

“Hello ladies!”

The ladies of the night shifted positions to meet him. Appraising eyes looked him up and down.

“Buying or selling, sweetheart?"

“Mmmm, neither tonight.”

“That’s Richie Wayne,” whispered a younger girl in a tight skirt and shirt so loose it was falling off one shoulder in a less than artful way. The appraising looks grew harsher.

“On your way then, young gentleman. Seems you ended up on the wrong side of town.”

Richie beamed, the warning passing neatly through the clouds of candy floss that were all he had to call a brain.

“Oh, no, ma’am! I live a couple streets over. 38th? I just dropped by to talk to the Hood but it seems I’ve missed him.”

The main speaker, a lady in a sparkly top and barely there shorts, let her face turn to stone. “Leave.”

“No, wait! Please! Okay, you got me, I came to talk to you. It’s just, he saved my life!”

A single raised eyebrow. The dangerous looking women who had stepped forward hesitated.

“I was having a really tough time, and he talked me through it. Brought me food, kept checking up on me to make sure I was doing better.”

Dick sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. The girls were settling. “Sounds like our Hood,” one murmured.

“Yeah. It’s just, I tried to thank him, and it didn’t go well.”

“He doesn’t swing that way?”

“Huh? Oh! No, I got him a gift card to a bookstore.”

There was a thoughtful pause.

“Well, kid. One point for knowing what the Hood likes. Minus fifty points for leaving a way for someone to figure out his identity.”

The younger girl nodded. “Yeah, they’d just have to wait for that particular gift card to get used and then check the store tapes.”

Dick groaned. He felt like an idiot. Of course the Hood had been mad! But…

“Couldn’t he have sent a proxy?”

“And put them in danger?” A taller androgynous person in purple scoffed. “As if. Hood would never.”

Another sigh. It seemed Dick had really messed up on this one. “Okay. Um, so I had another idea. I’ve got this really good family recipe for papanași. Do you think…?”

“No,” said the tall person, inspecting their fingernails.

The main lady nodded. “Could be poisoned. Or drugged.”

“But we’ve shared food before!”

The ladies looked at one another.

“Maybe if he ate one first?” offered the girl in spandex. Wait, was that a Green Lantern symbol?

“That might work.” A rumble of agreement was rising around the circle.

“Would… would I be able to bring them here? You guys could have some, of course! It’s just, he’s been avoiding me…”

The appraising stares were back.

“Tell you what,” the main speaker said slowly. “Bring us these papanași and we’ll judge them for ourselves. If they pass muster, we’ll let you stay here to offer one to Hood.”

“Oh my gosh! How are these so delicious?!”

A week had passed, and Richie had finally come through on his promise of papanași. The ladies had teased him each time he had failed to bring the dessert, but it had taken him a while to recall all the tricks of the recipe, and he wanted them to be just like he remembered.

The younger girl, Sophie, cast a suspicious look Richie’s way.

“I thought Richie Wayne was terrible at cooking. Aren’t you on a first name basis with the firefighters in your area because they get called so often?”

Richie laughed lightheartedly. “Oh, yeah, Derek gets really frustrated with me. He keeps begging me to just stick to takeout. Or he did, back when I was in Bludhaven.”

A shudder ran through the group.

“Almost forgot you turned traitor there for a while,” Marie, the leader of the group, said casually. “At least you came to your senses. Eventually.”

Dick carefully did not touch certain thoughts with a ten-foot pole and directed the conversation back to the papanași. “So? What do you think?”

The ladies looked at the empty pan that had held the desserts.

“A bit messy,” Avery noted.

“But worth every second!” Sophie exclaimed, mouth smeared with smetana and blackberry jam.

Marie gave Richie a slight nod. “You pass, kid.”

“Yes!” he exulted, pumping his fist in the air. “I won’t let you down, I promise. See you tomorrow!”

The ladies chuckled at his antics as he disappeared down the avenue.

“Say, do you think it’ll work out for the kid?” Avery asked as they gazed coolly out at the street.

Collette shrugged.

“As far as I know, Hood is quite the foodie. Remember those empanadas?”

“Divine!”

“Yeah. Maybe he’d be better off giving Hood the recipe.”

“But didn’t he say it was a family recipe? You don’t go giving those away.”

“Especially since he’s the only one of the family he’s got left.”  Sophie added quietly.

A blue silence settled.

The Red Hood landed with a thump by the street girls. “Marie, Collette. Everyone behaving themselves tonight?”

Marie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Hood, no need to worry. Everyone’s been respectful.”

“Actually!” A younger girl at the back piped up. Sophie, he believed it was.

“We have a surprise for you tonight!” And to general giggles and excitement, the crowd parted. There he was.

Nightwing. Batman’s right hand.

Why. Was. He. Here?! Infiltrating his network, using the good hearts of people who’d already been used enough.

Of course, he was in his Richie Wayne disguise. And he had a tray of something sugary looking and was prattling on.

“…so I thought maybe food was low commitment enough! Don’t worry, I’ll eat one first. Papanași was one of my favorites growing up and…”

Hood had heard enough. He strode forward and, taking the edge of the dish, flipped it up in Golden Boy’s face. An astonished silence fell.

His voice came out in a growl of barely restrained violence.

“What gives you the right. To come into my territory. Bother these hardworking people. And Get. In. My. Way.”

A mixture of blue and white dripped off Dick’s face and clothing. He looked to be in shock, but Hood was sure it was just for show. “I just… I just wanted to find a way to thank you.”

“Well, here’s a way. Get out of my life!”

The Golden Boy took a step back. He glanced at the stunned faces around him. “Um, sorry ladies. Guess it didn’t work out. Have…. Have a good night.”

He turned and walked hurriedly down the street. Hood glared daggers into his back.

“Hood!” A hand slapped his arm. He looked down. It was Marie.

And she was scowling at him.

“What was all that about?”

“That guy. I’m sorry you had to get involved. He’s just using you to get to me.”

A hint of uncertainty entered her expression. “Is he dangerous?”

“Dangerous? Probably.”

Avery spoke up from where they leaned against the light pole.

“He said you saved him.”

“Oh.” Hood rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. Yeah. That did happen.”

“So why didn’t you just take the papanași?”

“Or let us take them at least.” Sophie interjected. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on!” She looked mournfully at the discarded pastries and smears on the concrete.

Hood blinked. “Wait. He fed you guys this stuff?”

“Yes.” Marie was still scowling. “We’re not idiots. We weren’t going to just let any random person use us to poison you. He was sincere.”

“Sincerely evil, maybe.”

“How could that ball of fluff be evil?!”

“Just trust me on this.”

“Hood. I understand your paranoia, I truly do. But I think you misjudged the kid.”

The Red Hood looked around the circle at all the disapproving and disappointed faces and felt the first trickle of doubt. They all seemed convinced, and these weren’t easy women to fool.

Legs swinging, abyss looming. Dick was on his rooftop. Today wasn’t a bad night, but it certainly wasn’t a good night.

He’d been texting back and forth with Tim, making sure school and patrols were going okay, reminding the kid his door was always open. After a while, his contorted position was leading to his foot going numb, which wasn’t ideal five stories up. Time to go in.

Dick’s plans for a quiet evening came to a screeching halt, however, when he met with a slumped figure between him and the door. Once he verified that, yes, there was a person there, and no, his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, the acrobat rushed forward.

Gravel insinuated itself into his knees as he rolled the figure over, noting the familiar helmet, the black undershirt tacky with blood, and the continued presence of a pulse and breathing.

“Hood? Hood, can you hear me?”

A groan was his only response.

A dangerous crime lord Batman very much wanted to know more about was passed out on his roof. There was only one possible move.

Jason returned to consciousness in fits and starts.

First, he saw a plaster ceiling. Not his ceiling, but not the sky or a warehouse.

Second, he felt for his guns. They were absent, which raised the threat levels of whatever this was.

Third, he realized his hands and feet were free to look for his guns. Big mistake on his captors’ part. They’d soon be realizing that.

“Oh good, you’re up!” A familiar voice chirped. Jason groaned before he could stop himself.

Freaking Golden Boy.

A hand set a glass of water and some pills on the coffee table at his side, and quick as a rattlesnake Jason grabbed that hand and pinned its owner to the couch he had previously been resting on. The crime lord felt the tug his exertion put on his recent wounds but ignored it.

Dick wasn’t fighting back. He managed a muffled “Good morning to you too, Hood.”

“What did you do.”

“What did I do?!” Dick shrieked indignantly into the cushions.

Jason sighed, loosening his hold so the older man could at least speak clearly. Dick took a deep breath and continued.

“What I did was find a bleeding out meanie of a crime lord on the roof and patch him up.” He pouted angrily in Jason’s direction and Jason fought the rising frustration of unjust sibling accusation in order to get the rest of the story. There was one thing that he needed to know. Well, two things.

“And then? Did you call Batman?”

Dick spluttered indignantly. “Call- who do you think I am? Call Batman, he says. Oh yes, I’ve just got the whole Justice League on speed dial. Shall I summon Superman for you next?”

Goldie probably did have the whole Justice League on speed dial. Oh well, they could play it this way, he supposed. Something else to hold over Batsy’s head.

“Okay, whatever. No Batman. Looking around, this apartment seems relatively unexploded, wouldn’t you say?”

Dick’s brow furrowed. He nodded cautiously, like he was afraid of where this was going. Good.

“So I’m assuming you didn’t remove my helmet.”

Dick broke the hold and scrambled backward, falling off the couch in his haste to get away from Jason.

“Holy grouching crime lords, Red Hood! Do you seriously wear a bomb on your head 24/7? I may need to up your insanity rating.”

“Hey, as an identity reveal deterrent? It works.”

“Unless you’re unconscious and can’t warn a guy!”

“Nah, villains always like to do the whole dramatic monologue before trying anything that drastic. And heroes? Well, they’re pretty much the same.”

Dick sighed theatrically and fell back on his elbows. “Oh, Hood. Always trying to make things difficult. At least I found a way to thank you finally.”

Jason squinted at him suspiciously.

“Oh for Pete’s sake, your bleeding wounds! I stitched you up, let you stay at my place for the night, etc. etc! I think it’s fair to say we’re square now, yeah?”

“Hmmph. I don’t know if I’d consider thievery good host etiquette.”

“What do you mean?”

Jason gestured widely at the place where his holsters should be.

Dick shook his head in exasperation and pointed at a closet across the room. “Over there, I thought you’d be more comfortable and less likely to shoot me by reflex…”

But the Red Hood was already across the room strapping on his guns.

“Alright Golden Boy, I’ll let you get away with this just once, I’ve got to jet, people to shoot, places to explode, you know how it is.”

“Get away with- ” Dick spluttered. Jason was halfway out the window when Dick called out. “Wait!”

Jason hesitated. Dick swallowed and spoke haltingly.

“We’re- we’re square now. Right? So- so you could drop by like you used to.”

He slowly turned the helmet to face his once brother. His once brother, who’d chosen to save him when he didn’t have a reason to. Who was alone in a dangerous section of town and seemed somehow fragile for all his light words.

Jason let out a long sigh that rattled through the helmet.

“Fiiiine Goldie. I guess someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Dick light up from within, a sparkler on the Fourth of July. “Yay! Hood, you won’t regret it. And Sophie and Marie and the girls and I are such good friends! We can totally hang out, talk Real Housewives of Gotham, or maybe you and I could try to get them to decide whose taste in books is better-“

Jason groaned. Why had he agreed to this again? But if he was really going to…

“Hey Dickie?”

“-uh?”

Jason grinned across the room at him, shoulders relaxing as he leaned against the sill.

“If we’re going to have a Real Housewives marathon, you need to bring those papanași. The girls said they were to die for.”

Dick’s smile spread from ear to ear.

“Count me in.”