Chapter Text
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Media.
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It was just a normal day in Titans Tower. A good day even. Raven was meditating, sitting in the living room rather than her own room for once. Cyborg and Beast Boy were scrolling through movies on the TV. Starfire had managed to convince Robin to take off his gloves and let her paint his nails. Because how was he to deny someone as sweet as Starfire? And so here he was, nails covered in a just slightly imperfect layer of purple nailpolish, Starfire in deep concentration as she carefully tried to trace his nails.
There were no high-speed chases, or city-dominating supervillains, or world disasters. And Robin hadn’t even given Slade a thought in days. It was just a nice, simple day. And for once, they just got to be them; teenagers blessed, or cursed with incredible skills, famed throughout the city for almost indescribable feats of strength, and burdened with incredible responsibility, but teenagers nonetheless.
“Friend Robin, would you like to attempt the painting of my nails afterwards?” Starfire wondered, tone hopeful.
“Sure Star, got a color in mind?” he agreed, grinning back.
“I chose yours, you are free to make your own selection for mine!”
“Hey guys, can we get takeout? I’m not really in the mood to cook dinner,” Beast Boy groaned.
“If we are, Robin’s buying, his choice,” Raven pointed out. Robin, whose nails had dried just a bit ago, didn’t bother to look up from where he was covering Starfire’s nails with a green polish that he’d matched perfectly to her eyes as he offered a dismissive agreement.
“Go nuts, card’s in my utility belt on the table. Fourth pocket.” The whoop of triumph made him smile lightly, not envying his ex-mentor’s bank account in the slightest.
“You’re quite skilled at this, Robin! I had no idea that you had experience with the painting of nails.”
“Mhm…I used to paint them sometimes for- uh, someone I lived with.” It was Batman. Brucie, technically speaking. Bruce had loved pissing off the old man elites in Gotham by flaunting how little he cared about enforcing arbitrary societal gender roles, especially since they couldn’t say shit about it to the richest man in the room that could make or break their company’s success if he wanted to. Dick had gleefully followed suit, often opting to match with his guardian, who let him choose the brightest possible colors he could find.
The last time they’d matched, before Robin left Gotham- had actually been the exact shade of purple they were now, now that he thought about it.
If only Batman was as easy to get along with as Bruce was.
“Did you ever try any more complicated designs?”
“I mastered how to paint on simple shapes for things like flowers and fruit, but nothing super eccentric.” Well, there was the zebra print incident, but they didn’t talk about the zebra print incident.
“Could you try something for me?”
“Of course,” he pulled out his phone as he spoke. “Let me just pull up a reference-” He stopped abruptly.
Why had there been a massive influx of people mentioning his Robin identity on social media?
The Bat Hypothesis @metalbread
SIGN THIS PETITION TO GET ROBIN TO LEAVE JUMP CITY AND COME BACK HOME!!
Abby Glees @abbyglees
JUMP CAN GET THEIR OWN BROODING VIGILANTE!! HE WAS OURS FIRST GIVE US OUR SUNSHINE BOY BACK WHY DID YOU TURN HIM INTO TRAFFIC LIGHT BATMAN
Alice Mayhem @alicemillie
Jump should jump lol. For legal reasons, that was a joke. But hey at least he didn’t go to Metropolis
Slugsss @briellegrace
He shouldn’t. He and Supes have way too many bright colors between them to put on a duo poster.
Sweeney T @olivemarian
Okay but it’d be kinda funny tho. Like y’know how kids in movies meet bad influences and then like start rebelling and dressing alt? Metropolis Robin would be the equivalent except his clothes get even brighter
Slugsss @briellegrace
Highlighter era Robin? Swap out the emerald for chartreuse perhaps? The crimson for coral? The dandelion yellow for PASTEL YELLOW!? JAIL FOR EVEN SUGGESTING IT
x
Sweeney T @olivemarian
Too late. Already drawing the fanart. But maybe I’ll consider picking better shades if we get the likes on the petition to fifty thousand likes…
Robin shook his head exasperatedly. This was hardly the first time people from Gotham had turned to social media in order to bring him back, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. But Robin had never been a person to break under pressure, and he’d never been one to go back on his word. Especially when going back on his word would mean going back to Bruce and his stupid “I told you so” face and the disinterested “hn.”
Truthfully, it was a wonder how Gothamites hadn’t gotten tired of this by now-
Oh fuck.
Five. Million. Signatures.
Over half of Gotham’s population had signed that damn petition. And a good amount of the remaining population would be children and thus too young to have access to it if their parents didn’t show them. What the fuck.
“Friend Robin? Are you quite alright? Would you like to postpone the painting of the nails?” Starfire questioned, worriedly eying the dumbfounded expression on her friend’s face.
What even was their problem at this point? He’d made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t be coming back to Gotham, and more and more of the comments on the post made the fact they knew at least part of the reason why he left perfectly evident. It was hardly rare for people to see Batman and Robin arguing on some rooftop or even in the middle of a fight as they got closer to the end of their partnership. Batman didn’t need him, didn’t even want him at this rate. So why- why were people so insistent on shackling him back into being some nobody sidekick when he could do so much more- so much more on his own.
He was making a difference out here. Why couldn’t everyone just understand that-
“Everything okay, Rob?” Cyborg called out from his spot on the couch. Robin quickly dropped his phone back into his pocket.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back, I just- need to go deal with something really quick,” he muttered, planning to either punch a bag in the training room or have a quick scream in his soundproof bedroom.
“Oh! Is it something you’d like assistance with?” Starfire offered.
“No, no- it’s just. It’s not anything that bad, just give me a second-” But as he tried to walk towards the door, he soon found himself blocked, by the same alien princess that had been so eager in offering her assistance.
“Robin. You promised that you would rely on us more.” The serious tone of her voice had the other three Titans looking away from whatever they’d been doing in order to look at him, and Robin found his face growing warm under their attention.
“I promise this isn’t another Slade situation-” he protested.
“When we said you could rely on us more, we didn’t just mean in the case of you shutting yourself into your room for hours on end with no sleep and piles of neverending theories or questions,” Cyborg reminded.
“Yeah dude, we meant you could reach out for anything,” Beastboy added. All of the Titans were on their feet now, and while Raven didn’t add anything to the conversation, she did look at him expectantly. And after a few moments under their encouraging gazes, Robin sighed softly, running his hand back through his hair.
“It’s just a bunch of random people from Gotham trying to get me to go back. Trust me, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” he admitted, attempting to placate them. This wasn’t something they needed to get involved in. Especially when he’d seen the occasional comment bashing his friends as another point that argued in favor of his return to Batman’s side. It wasn’t an overwhelming amount, but it still pissed him off.
“Well that’s most unfortunate for them, because you are ours now, and you are not going anywhere unless you wish to,” Starfire exclaimed determinedly, earning noises of agreement with various degrees of enthusiasm from their other teammates.
“It’s not like I don’t care about Gotham anymore,” he continued. “They’ll always mean something to me- I just don’t get why me leaving matters so much to them when Batman seems to be doing just fine without me.” And no, his voice did not shake near the end of his statement, no matter what anyone else says.
“You did a lot of good there, so I can’t really blame them for missing you, I would’ve if I were them- but you do a lot of good here too,” Beastboy responded, consequently reminding Robin of how awestruck he’d been when they’d first met, a bit of a Robin fan himself at the time.
“It’s sorta like watching a child star grow up on TV, they’ll get past it,” Cyborg replied.
He felt another notification go off on his phone, instinctively reaching for it and taking note of how the petition thread had gotten an update, before his phone was snatched away by black energy before he could so much as scroll down.
“It can’t hurt you and you can’t hurt it when it’s out of sight, and out of mind,” Raven remarked.
“Is that why you tossed Beastboy into the water when he interrupted your meditation last week?” Robin chuckled.
“How does that count as not hurting me?” Beastboy complained, but his face was stretched into an impish grin.
“You can swim.”
Raven’s curt response got laughs out of all of them, and Cyborg invited Robin to take a turn at the videogame as they all calmly returned to their day. To which Robin agreed, as soon as he finished painting Starfire’s nails, earning a whoop of excitement from the girl in question. Raven didn’t give him back his phone until the next morning, and that was that.
And honestly? He had a blast.
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Signs
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-Weeks Later-
It turned out that he hadn’t actually seen it all from desperate Gothamites.
Robin hadn’t bothered to send out a response to the petition he’d seen weeks ago, not even a subtle one. And evidently, that was his first mistake.
He’d spent over half a decade acting as the adoptive son of the one of the most appearingly airheaded celebrities on the continent, and yet just a year away from it all, and he’d forgotten the rules of dealing with the public.
One. Always be aware of who you interact with. You never know when a connection can prove useful to a case. Assume everyone is a potential suspect, clue, or victim.
In the earliest stages of his detective career, Bruce had shown him a few old murder mystery movies, to Alfred’s chagrin, who lamented his willingness to expose him to something that was so definitely not child friendly. But he’d been even more annoyed when that set a very hyperactive, not very sneaky yet, but aggressive and with his heart in the right place, young Dick Grayson into a very strong torrent of “The Butler Did It” accusations for an entire month. But in his defense- anytime he and B investigated a high society case that month, there genuinely always was a good motive for the Butler being the one to do it, but then Bruce always remembered some dumb detail he’d overheard during a gala that miraculously managed to relate to the case. It never was the Butler- but it gave Dick a new appreciation for Alfred.
Two. If you’re going to do something stupid? Then you’d better commit to the bit. You can leave holes in your logic, but not in your character.
Bruce had been stuck at a luncheon once, with Oliver Queen of all people sticking to his side like glue. The only way he could think of to get out of it? He pretended to be drunk and pulled Oliver into a waltz and then pretended to trip and unceremoniously throw them both into the hors d'oeuvres table. Now how did Brucie end up drunk at an 11:30 luncheon that wasn’t serving any alcohol? No one knew, but no one doubted it could happen either. Oliver had just laughed and called him a lightweight before handing him off to Alfred to drive home, none the wiser despite likely not smelling much alcohol on his breath during the waltz.
Three. Never give them more than they expect. After letting them create a preconceived notion of you, you can usually predict what they want to see, they don’t need to know the real you in its entirety, just enough to get by.
Beyond all the himbo Brucie and slutty Brucie personas, there was also business Brucie. Lucius was always at every Wayne Enterprises meeting of course, acting as the head of the company while Bruce appeared as a figurehead- but he knew perfectly well that that was far from the truth. They had a system whenever dealing with particularly troublesome company proposals or partnerships. Brucie would lure them into a false sense of security, and then drop the facade and strike. And somehow- he would always word things just lightly enough that even after losing, no one thought him nearly as intelligent as he really was.
More importantly, four. Never give them nothing. Because that leaves room for speculations to take root until they’ve taken over the entire damn tree, before people start cutting it down to get to the truth.
Bruce was no stranger to accusations of being Batman, oddly enough. The theories never gained much traction, with every interaction he’d ever had with the public managing to build up a reputation so far off that it physically pained some to even consider the notion. But every once in a while, there would come a conspiracy theorist so adamant that they were right that they would start digging for whatever tiny piece of evidence they could find in order to prove their theory. For once, Bruce being a paranoid asshole would actually be a big help in that crusade, and he played it off as a joke or coincidence, easily taking control of the narrative. It was one of those instances that of course led to the most iconic part of Brucie’s career, at least in Robin’s opinion anyway.
The “Do the Butts Match?” theory. They did. Obviously. But for obvious reasons, that didn’t mean shit to anyone sane.
Or insane really. Even Joker had denounced the theory as “pure poppycock” or whatever.
Putting out even a symbolic statement would’ve been better than his complete silence. Especially given the final rule of dealing with the public.
Five. Never underestimate a resident of Gotham.
And oh look. He had a new example for the rulebook now.
It didn’t matter that Jump City was over halfway across the country from Gotham. It didn’t matter that Titans Tower was located on a singular island in the middle of the water, away from the main city itself. Definitely didn’t matter that they were trespassing on the grounds of five very dangerous individuals in the middle of the fucking night. Not to a Gothamite anyway.
Massive cardboard signs, their messages spelled out in glow in the dark lettering- were being held up from the bottom of the tower. Six of them, assuming there weren’t other signs written in normal writing. He couldn’t see the citizens themselves, but he could see the large tents they’d set up at the base of the tower.
ROBIN WE MISS YOU
ROBIN YOU BELONG IN GOTHAM
ROBIN COME HOME PLEASE
ROBIN, BATMAN HAS NO WHIMSY
ROBIN, GOTHAM NEEDS YOU MORE THAN EVER
ROBIN MY SHOP WILL GIVE YOU YOUR OWN ICE CREAM FLAVOR IF YOU COME HOME
Well jokes on them, he already has an ice cream flavor.
Even so, Robin should really invest in some better blinds or something. Some of them looked ready to start chanting up at him. It’s like these people had no lives. Shaking his head lightly, he went to reach for his uniform so he could go down and shoo people off. When all of a sudden-
The entrance to the Titans Tower burst open with a flourish, and out rushed a very irritated elephant, an elephant so green that there was no doubt in Robin’s mind how exactly an elephant had made its way into the tower.
His friend stomped towards the campsite that invaded their lawn, trumpeting loudly as he sent the stragglers rushing away. Most dropped their signs as they dove to safety, but there were still a few very defiant Gothamites who stubbornly held onto the cardboard. His friend wasn’t aiming to be destructive as far as he could tell, making sure to actually avoid trampling anyone. But he certainly wasn’t friendly either.
“SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP HERE,” his friend practically screeched as he reverted to his normal form as the remnants of the group went scrambling. Robin felt his laughter bubbling up in his throat, and leaned away from the window with a fond expression on his face.
Shouts of protest came as the group of Gothamites rushed off, all diving into the water, some using their signs to help them float.
Seriously? All these Gothamites had come all the way out to California from New Jersey, and instead of renting a boat or something- had all collectively decided to swim through the expanse of water between Titans Tower and the rest of Jump City?
If they weren’t so irritating, he might’ve even been flattered by their commitment. He wasn’t. Because they were in fact massively irritating. But he could respect their tenacity, if nothing else. Though maybe that last bit was giving them a little too much credit. When else would the average Gothamite get the chance to swim in such unpolluted waters without fear of getting mutated into Batman’s next big C-list rogue or something? Or contract some new stupidly contagious disease? Or get caught up in the next underwater treasure scheme? Or just turn green for the next six months?
Really, in all his time as Robin, the Batboat (which he had named himself obviously) had almost exclusively been used just for fishing people out of Gotham’s pier, especially once Killer Croc had taken up residence in the sewers instead. Sometimes dead, sometimes alive, sometimes alive but now literally one of the fish people. Depended on the season really. Nowadays, it just barely got more use than the Batcarriage did.
Beastboy was huffing all the way back up the Tower, but it was clear by the grin on his face that he was proud of what he’d done. And in truth, Robin was too. He was under no pretense that Beastboy had actually done that because he couldn’t sleep, waking the younger boy in the morning was a Herculean task in itself, usually Robin would be able to tempt him awake with the smell of food, but sound? Nope. Never even got a single twitch out of him.
So yeah. He knew why he’d really done it. And it left a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest.
Still wasn’t going to get him to overlook the fact that it was Beastboy’s turn to clean the kitchen. But maybe Robin could cut him some slack and offer some assistance this time. Just this once. And if there was an excited whoop! when a nice vegetarian buffet showed on the table the next morning, then that was neither here nor there.
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Villains.
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-A Week Later-
“Relinquish the civilian, Gizmo!” He found himself demanding.
Gizmo, the smallest, but perhaps the loudest member of the Hive Five, wasn’t usually someone all that threatening.
Sure, he had his moments. Cyborg certainly held a grudge over the many instances in which the pint sized delinquent had messed with the T-Car, and as a fellow tech-based hero, who had loved the Batmobile, and still loved his R-cycle, Robin could of course sympathize.
But even then, Gizmo’s schemes rarely consisted of civilian involvement, which was nice because it meant he didn’t have to split his priorities between saving lives and capturing the evildoer. Civilian casualties were rare, those resulting in death and otherwise, and even those few were usually reserved for schemes of the Hive Five as a whole, not a singular member, and usually weren’t even all that purposeful. It was a far cry from Gotham, which was brimming with enough crime and trauma to power an entire community of overdramatic night vigilantes if it really wanted to. Probably even a day vigilante or two if you could find someone willing to get up that early.
Not that Robin could ever see any of that happening of course, but his point still stands.
It’s not like he was complaining about Jump being a considerably safer city to live in, but it did mean that this new development had caught him off guard. Gizmo’s newest mechanism had helped him break through the walls of a bank in the middle of the city, a young woman clutched firmly in the mechanism’s hands.
She didn’t seem all that bothered if he were being entirely honest. She seemed almost bored for a moment, at least as far as he could tell. Her blonde hair was largely unmussed, her dark makeup fully intact. The only part of her clothes he could see very clearly were some slightly battered blue combat boots, but she didn’t seem hurt.
He was certain he’d never seen her before, but something about the overall image made his head hurt. Like he had all the pieces, and he knew where they should logically go- but this girl was from an entirely different puzzle box.
Whatever that feeling was, he’d have to wait to deal with it until after she was safely on the ground.
He pulled out his comm and brought the mic to his face. “Titans, I need a hand on 45th street, Gizmo’s got a hostage.” He didn’t actually think he needed much help, but things were always more complicated when civilians got involved, and he’d rather not take any chances if he could help it. He’d prefer someone friendly enough to comfort the potentially traumatized civilian while he finishes the fight, but he’d take what he could get.
“Copy that,” Raven’s drawling voice responded, before cutting the connection, undoubtedly readying a portal to him, and he launched into action, boots beating against concrete as he ran and launched himself upwards, staff in hand.
His reflexes kicked in with ease, dodging every grab Gizmo made for him, and redirecting any missiles away from their targets. And just as Raven emerged from her shadowy portal, he’d sliced off the arm of the robot that held the girl, swinging downwards to catch her before she hit the ground.
A blast from Raven flew through the air, just narrowly missing his head, and the villain of the day was sent rocketing backwards, and slamming into an old hotdog stand, the owner having long since disappeared in the commotion. Robin made a mental note to put the cart’s repairs on Bruce’s card. Not like it’d make even a slight dent in his fortune anyway.
Gizmo winced, wiping relish off his perfectly matching relish-green glasses. “Blegh, couldn’t even spring for the good stuff.” Robin handed the girl off to Raven before turning to face the shorter boy, whose suit was thoroughly trashed, the remaining metal arms hanging crookedly.
“Then you’d better get used to that taste while you can. You’re not getting much better in Jump City Prison. And if I have any say in it, this’ll be a longer stint,” Robin pointed out.
“For what!? Like half of the damage is shit you threw me into!” And Robin would be providing financial compensation for that, obviously.
“You purposefully endangered an innocent bystander, it’s a rarity for you, and I’d rather we break this up before it becomes a habit,” he responded. He chalked up the girl’s open stare on his back up to shock, but Raven, who’d set her on the ground, noticed something interesting about her.
“What gives!? She offered to come with me!” Gizmo argued sulkily, stopping Robin in his spot.
“What do you mean by that?”
“She was a last minute addition! She saw me walking towards the bank, said she was a fan- and of course she is, and then offered to help me in my next robbery as a hostage!”
“What-”
“Look, if you don’t believe me- I’ve got the footage to prove it.”
And prove it he did.
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-Earlier That Evening-
Gizmo didn’t think he really had all that many fans. He was a villain- so like, duh. But the few fans that either were just natural-born contrarians, or simply got lost in the aesthetic idea of being a villain, were usually only fans of Jinx. Much to everyone’s chagrin.
So when a blonde girl who couldn’t have been older than fifteen was camping outside the H.I.V.E Tower, he jumped to the immediate assumption that she must have been a spy for the heroes.
But the second his claws had reached for her, she’d jumped back and acting as if on pure instinct- brought up a can of pepper spray and aimed it towards him, before abruptly dropping her arm from its position and putting on a pleasant expression.
“Oh gosh! Hi, so sorry to bother you!” she smiled in faux shyness.
“Um. Hi?”
“You’re- Gizmo, right? I’m such a big fan of your work!”
“Really?” He perked up.
“Yeah. Yeah- um, so what brings you out here?” She wondered.
“Outside of my house?”
“Right, of course. But do you always bring all your tech with you?”
“Hate to break it to you, but not much of a point when you don’t really have a secret identity.” He scoffed.
“But if you really must know- I do have plans today. Evil ones, I mean,” he continued proudly.
“Great! Hey, how likely is it that Robin’s going to step in today?” she questioned eagerly. A little too eager to be frank.
“I don’t know, probably pretty high, he usually does,” he replied, shrugging.
“And you think you can take him?”
“Of course I can!” He snapped defensively.
“But- you’ve never succeeded before?” she whispered sympathetically.
“Maybe not fully! But-”
She interrupted his train of thought excitedly. “Y’know, I hear Robin used to get a lot more action back when he hung around Batman! Maybe the key to all this is to raise the stakes a bit!”
“Oh and how do you suppose I do that? I don’t have the time or resources to be making any new missiles right now-”
“No, no, no! As…threatening, and astounding I may add- as your tech may be, Robin stood as a symbol of hope in Gotham, the light to Batman’s dark. But Gotham’s used to the dark, they had to actively get used to Robin.”
“And?”
“Well- Gotham villains are notoriously a little off their rocker, y’know? Robin got used to the dark in turn back then, so I’d bet he had to actively get used to Jump’s…uh, new atmosphere. So I’d bet he’s lost that- darker edge, if you will. So you’ve gotta throw him off his game!”
“With what?”
“Oh I don’t know,” she said coyly, before dramatically clapping her hands together. “Take me as a hostage! It’s bound to dredge up some old memories, which means he’ll be distracted enough for you to swoop in and steal- uh, whatever you were planning on stealing!”
“Uh, are you sure about that?”
“Oh and of course it would just be such an honor to help you in your plans Mr, um. Um. Mr Gizmo! Right. That. Because I’m such a big fan of your work,” she lied sweetly.
“Wow. So like, sending him into a PTSD episode? That’s your angle?”
Oh whoops. She hadn’t really thought about it like that. She certainly hoped it wouldn’t. She’d be genuinely shocked if this kid registered as even close to a Gotham-level threat.
It probably wasn’t the best idea to underestimate a villain she’d done very little research on.
But she’d come all this way.
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-Present Day-
With the mechanism having finally let go of the girl, he finally got a good look at the rest of her clothes. And he groaned internally as he noticed the black and yellow logo on the white hoodie she wore over her periwinkle dress.
The Gotham Knights baseball team.
As much as he’d like to drag his feet home and scream into his pillow, he still had a job to do. And unfortunately- different city or not, he couldn’t help but feel especially responsible for a resident of Gotham.
“Are you alright?” He asked, only somewhat reluctant.
“I got kidnapped by the Mad Hatter a week ago, this is nothing,” she assured him.
“You are a rather uncanny Alice candidate, sorry to hear that,” he conceded. After scanning her for any visible injuries, he sighed openly, before gesturing reluctantly for her to say her piece, as she clearly had plenty to say in Gizmo’s video, to which she quickly obliged.
“My mom tried to get me to try switching out my clothes- but blue’s just my thing, y’know? Gotham’s never been one for pastels, fucking hell I stand out bad in a crowd sometimes, but it makes me feel like me. So why should I give up my place as a fan of blue just because someone else might not react well?” she offered, very pointedly he might add. He hoped his face looked as unimpressed as he felt.
Evidently though, his solemnity couldn’t quite beat out Raven’s, who placed a hand over his shoulder in solidarity, glancing rudely at the girl before them.
“There’s no reason to pigeonhole someone into one space when they have room to grow in another. You-” she paused, raising an eyebrow before speaking in a vastly disbelieving tone, “-wear pastels because you want to, not because you have an obligation to it,” She cut in firmly, the true meaning of her words clear.
He might miss Gotham sometimes. He knew that Gotham would accept him even when Batman wouldn’t. But Jump could learn to accept him too. Already had for the most part in fact. And that was enough. For now at least.
“But he-”
“Beat it, kid,” Raven’s words were final, her eyes glowing protectively. Reluctantly, the girl slinked away into the shadows of an alleyway, and Raven paused to stare in vague surprise as she went out of sight.
He shrugged. “Yeah Gothamites do that. They don’t do well with sun. I wouldn’t worry.”
“If you say so.”
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Pick-ups.
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-A Week Later-
Would it be wrong to kill a civilian?
Yes.
But would it be so wrong to kill these civilians?
…Yes.
“Oh Robin! You’re so strong,” the girl preened, reaching for his arm for the third time in the past ten minutes.
He was starting to get flashbacks back to that time Killer Moth’s daughter Kitten made him take her to prom. If only Starfire were here to get her off his back. He wasn’t sure what was even happening anymore.
He’d saved two teenagers from a fire at Jump City Community College because he’d been passing by in his civilian attire with the intention of maybe trying to get an online degree in his free time. There was only so much he could stomach living off of Bruce’s money for the rest of his life.
And truthfully, he worried about whether Bruce's generosity would eventually stop extending to the son who’d left him without even a goodbye, after years of supporting him financially and somewhat emotionally- however emotional Bruce was capable of on a good day anyway.
Not that he thought his relationship was quite so bad that Bruce would start feeling petty enough to cut him off like that so soon.
He knew that much.
Or at least he thought so.
He hoped.
Maybe. Um.
Yeah. They were…they were fine. Kinda. Maybe. Hm?
He jerked away from the girl with a start, pushing away his spiraling thoughts with a grunt. The girl was a redhead in a long-sleeved Jump City crop top and star-printed jeans. The other teenager- a boy with red hair this time, was dressed similarly.
“Oh- Alan and I are just so grateful to you, you were just so suave back there- like a real life knight in shining armor,” The girl sighed dreamily.
“Dial it back, Kaylin,” he could’ve sworn he’d heard the boy mutter, before the boy raised his head towards him and grinned cheekily. And he appreciated the sentiment, truly. Until he went and ruined it. As men do.
“Besides- Birdboy here would much prefer my company, wouldn’t he?” the boy purred.
“Asshole. You call that subtle?” The girl grumbled under her breath, Robin’s ears straining to hear it.
“I’m improvising,” the boy replied in a rushed whisper. Robin cleared his throat uncomfortably.
Admittedly, the two were cute. And Robin was self-aware enough to admit that he did have a bit of a penchant for redheads. But, he already had a redhead in mind, and she was more than enough, frankly.
And honestly, their flirting could use some work. Far too reminiscent of Brucie for his liking. They could do better. He didn’t know them very well. But surely they could do better. Surely most people could do better.
“Soooo…tell us about yourself. You seem a little tense.” The boy- Alan, wondered sweetly.
“Seeing as you’ve yet to let me call someone to take you both home, you can say I’ve got a few concerns.”
“Oh that’s so nice of you to worry about us,” Kaylin giggled.
“Could’ve worried a whole lot less if you’d at least made an effort to reach the exit instead of just sitting on a filing cabinet eating Ben and Jerry's," he muttered. Not only was the ice cream actively melting as the heat of the fire readily approached the room they were in, but they hadn’t even bothered calling for help until they’d seen him outside the window of the door.
They’d been playing tic tac toe until he got there.
And then the moment they’d spotted him, they’d dramatically thrown themselves into his arms, near tears, and blubbering, and then refused to let him leave once he’d gotten them to safety.
“Oh we just got so distracted, the fire just completely snuck up on us! We were trying to practice our lines for our theatre department’s production of Twelfth Night, you see. And we just got so locked into our roles-” Bullshit.
The boy added cheerfully. “Maybe a trip would help you get your mind off of things. Maybe you could come and see our production! Let us show you around a nice change of scenery. I know a few great places y’know-” Robin didn’t like where this was going. “-Cali’s nice and all. But I hear Jersey’s usually real nice around this time of year!”
“Dark, dreary, and heavily polluted isn’t what I would really call nice.” He instinctively bit out in response, his expression blank as his brain went on autopilot. He was not having it this time.
“Ah- but surely not every place in Jersey is-” The girl jumped eagerly to reassure him, but he really wasn’t having any of it.
“Oh but Gotham is, isn’t it? Somehow I don’t think I need a tour guide,” he said flatly. The two glanced guiltily at the ground.
“Told you we should’ve sent Priya and Rashmi,” The girl grumbled to her friend.
“We have no proof that they would’ve been his type either,” he complained, much more loudly might he add.
But apparently his callout hadn’t been enough to shut them down entirely, because Alan managed to work up the courage to look him in the eye again just a moment later to continue his advances. And spurned on by her friend, Kaylin made her own attempt too.
Painfully, he stood there, glaring. Outwardly, he certainly cut a rather intimidating picture, but inwardly, he was actually panicking slightly. Was he losing his touch? Why wasn’t the patented Batglare doing anything? He knew damn well that he could replicate it flawlessly!
Or at least he was able to before. Surely he hadn’t been away from home for that long? The Batglare was meant to be an ingrained skill- not a practiced one. He was placated as he examined the two closely, realizing neither were actually looking him in the eye, but had rather carefully trained their own eyes on other parts of his body, and even then, they were still fidgeting slightly. His forehead, and his jaw respectively. Still not quite the reaction he would’ve liked. But maybe these two had experienced the Batglare from Bruce for loitering or something and already knew what to expect. Miraculously however, someone finally stepped in to interrupt the exchange.
“Why so stuck on Rob, hm?” a cheery voice boomed teasingly from a short distance. And Robin felt himself relax as a familiar face came into view, clutching a brown takeout bag in one silvery metal hand, and waving toward the three of them with the unoccupied one.
Robin snickered as he watched the two lock onto the other boy instantly, mouths just slightly agape in awe. He could clearly envision the cartoonishly large heart eyes they must’ve been making. If he were a lesser man, his ego might’ve been a tad offended. But one, he wasn’t that kind of guy, and he could objectively appreciate a friend’s looks. And two. Target acquired.
His friend wasn’t unaffected, and Robin had drilled enough social cues into the Titan’s heads during training for Cyborg to take note of their change of behavior instantly. And he paused in brief surprise, blinking as if to make sure he wasn’t seeing things wrong.
“Hey Cyborg. Perfect timing,” Robin returned the greeting gratefully.
“You good, man?” his friend checked on him quietly, breaking out of his stupor.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Have you got this covered here?” His friend nodded his assent, and so Robin took off, gallantly leaving him in the clutches- er, presence, of his apparent admirers.
And all jokes aside, this was good for Cyborg. He knew his friend, despite being more comfortable in his identity now, still held some underlying insecurity over his robotic features. He hadn’t seen many average civilians disparaging him for his appearance, but that didn’t mean it didn’t ever happen.
And honestly, he knew that his brighter color palette was a bit of an acquired taste in a place like Gotham City, dark and polluted as it is. Well, not super polluted anymore, thanks to Wayne Enterprises, but it certainly looked the part even if it didn’t fit the idea environmentally. Gothamites really would be the exact kinds of people to be into robots. (And he was in love with a literal alien, so it’s not like he was exempted from that either.)
Really though, what exactly had they expected to accomplish with Robin there? You’d think a pair of theatre kids would have at least thought to script some of their flirting. He shuddered to think that any of that could’ve been scripted. If they had genuinely read through that draft and then greenlit it- he really had to question who was teaching those theatre classes. But what did he know?
He was just a circus acrobat turned vigilante that built his entire childhood identity on his visual and verbal dramatic juxtaposition to the Gotham gloomiest resident- huh. Maybe Bruce should try his hand at being a theatre teacher.
Actually, no. Then his shitty flirting would spread. He couldn’t subject the youth to that, they’d just be set up for failure.
______________
Vacations.
______________
-A Week Later-
It was always interesting to see Bruce come up in the news. Sometimes it was for some big technological advancement, sometimes it was for some bumbling dumbassery he’d committed as Brucie, sometimes it was some salacious facade. Other times it was about him. Not Robin him. The other him. As far as the public knew, that him, and Bruce? They were fine. And they sorta were. That him had “gone off to college,” he was free to stay where he was.
He had to wonder if there was some kind of organization set up for his return now. Not the other him. But just him.
Like clockwork, the Gothamites, tenacious as ever, had made another attempt. He could both highly respect the commitment, and also strongly lament the fact that these Gothamites thought he was genuinely this stupid.
“Friend Robin,” Starfire approached him cautiously.
“Hm?”
“A most strange brochure appeared in the delivery of the mail this morning,” she mentioned, her hands behind her back clutching a piece of paper out of his line of sight.
“Oh?” He held his hand out.
“Remember. Should I relinquish this piece of paper- you cannot get angry,” she stressed each word out very carefully.
“I can’t imagine I’d have any reason to be angry with you,” he remarked bemusedly.
“I am without the ability to put this matter in a delicate sensibility, the apologies,” Starfire responded, forlornly handing him the paper.
And it took all the strength in his body to avoid crumpling it up immediately.
A Brochure.
That in itself wasn’t all that ordinary, right? TItans Tower got plenty of advertisements in the mail, and occasionally they would even take up the idea for a vacation. Half of them ended with them accidentally uncovering some kind of sinister plot and cutting their vacation short in order to save the affected area, but that was neither here nor there. The photo they’d selected for the brochure was of a beautiful night sky, a city of twinkling lights against the deep blue, the top of a certain familiar building standing out spectacularly.
He must’ve gone rather scarily silent, because Starfire snatched the offending piece of paper away from him and burned it up with one of her starbolts. But Robin had too good of a memory to forget what was on it.
Take a Great Escape into Gotham City.
Escape from prison maybe. They were sure to have work for you there. He could offer you a plethora of interested employers.
Take Edward Nygma- he offers you dental! Just don’t get involved in his scavenger hunts, they tend to get explosively competitive.
Take Jonathan Crane! He pays better than the minimum wage! But the pay only makes up for so much, just try not to become one of his test subjects for his next batch of fear gas!
Ooh! Or take the Joker. He loves a good laugh.
You won’t though.
All jokes aside. Actually, don’t engage with that one. That one’s not working out. Try Penguin instead. Or move cities. That’d be more reasonable.
He had to wonder. Was he maybe going insane? Was that what this was? A product of hysteria?
“Robin,” His friend approached cautiously.
“Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” He thinks he might be a little crazed. This could be the start of his villain arc. Would he be better as a Batman rogue, or a Titans rogue, he wondered. Batman already had his big nemesis. Arguably though, Robin had perfect nemesis material, so maybe he could oust the clown from his spot. He’d throw a fit, but Robin had always excelled at pissing him off, always out-punning him, always cackling through the shadows, he obviously had a better cackle than the Joker- and it was completely natural too, always the one to get Batman to crack even the tiniest of smiles, wouldn’t starting some big rivalry be a good way to really-
“Do you ever…genuinely consider their efforts?” Starfire abruptly interrupted his tirade of thoughts.
Wow. Maybe he really was spiraling a little if he was genuinely considering a life of villainy. Robin had never really drank before, minus that one sip of wine that he’d convinced Oliver Queen to slip him at a gala several years ago. Bruce had spilled the entire wine tower over Ollie in retaliation, not that anyone else knew it was on purpose. Alfred would’ve been horribly disappointed if he ever found out Robin was engaging in underage drinking- though Alfie was also British, and an army man at that, so he wasn’t really sure if he had all that much room to talk. But this was probably the closest he’d ever felt to really needing a drink.
Oh wait. Starfire was still waiting on an answer. He shouldn’t leave her hanging. He could spiral later. He had a soundproof room for a reason.
He pondered her question for a moment before replying. “Well- maybe sometimes. Gotham’s, for lack of a better term, a complete hellhole. But I guess in a way, it’ll always be sorta my hellhole.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard such an informal description from you,” she said.
“It’s not a very formal place. It’s unique, if I had to put it any other way. I don’t think any of you would like it much, but it was home for a while.”
“That is most unfortunate for them.” Starfire sounded so uncharacteristically uninterested in that statement, and the drop in her tone gave him a little bit of whiplash.
“Yeah, I guess-”
“But they cannot have you,” Starfire stated firmly. Her gaze was set determinedly, as if she were waiting for some figures to burst out from the shadows and try to drag him back into the clutches of Gotham City and her corruption and her bleeding heart. And she’d rip them all apart with her bare hands if that’s what it came down to.
It was actually rather heartwarming. To know that she- oh and their team of course, genuinely wanted him. His past wouldn’t be the only thing looking to fight for him, he could look to his future too.
It meant he didn’t need to go back to Bruce-
He didn’t say any of that though. Instead, his response was straight forward, simple, and acknowledging. “I know, Star.”
“You’re ours now, is that correct?” There was no room for argument in her expression, not that he would’ve wanted to fight her on it anyway.
“I am,” he conceded.
“We can fight.” She seemed very eager to hit this point home, and Robin couldn’t help the way his mouth twitched upwards with each remark.
“Yes.”
“They can as well?” Starfire questioned.
“Mhm.” He knew they could. They already were.
“It would not be enough.”
“I know.”
“You would do the same for me. You already have.” Her expression twisted.
“And I’d do it again without question,” he assured.
“Okay,” she nodded with a soft smile, though her voice remained level, and solemn, nothing like the bubbly sensibilities she most often presented when they were all in the comfort of their home in the tower, but she finally seemed satisfied.
Take a Great Escape into Gotham City.
Maybe he did want to show Star, and eventually the rest of his team, what kept him so tied to Gotham. What made his time there so special. Beast Boy knew a bit already, had apparently been a fan of his even before they’d met. He’d probably appreciate a trip down Robin’s childhood stomping grounds. Robin hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed by what he saw.
One day.
When he was ready.
And not a day before.
No matter what anyone else tried to say.