Work Text:
10:12 PM
Jason Todd: “Where are you, demon? You’re not answering your phone.”
10:30 PM
Jason Todd: “You’re seriously ignoring me now? That’s how it is?”
10:45 PM
Jason Todd: “Wait. You’re not dead, right? Tell me you’re not dead. I swear to God, Damian, if you’re dead, I’m gonna kill you.”
11:00 PM
Jason stuffed his phone into his pocket, muttering under his breath as he strode through the streets of Gotham. This wasn’t like Damian—out this late and not checking in.
His boots crunching on broken glass and loose gravel, the cold Gotham air nipped at his neck. But he ignored all of it, his attention locked on the dark windows of Damian’s safehouse.
It was too quiet.
His eyes scanned the building for any sign of movement, but it stood like an abandoned husk, lifeless and foreboding.
Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall opposite the safehouse. For a moment, he debated breaking in—just to check. But he knew Damian. The kid would lose his mind if Jason even touched the door without permission.
11:15 PM
Jason Todd: “I just walked past your safe house. Lights are off. WHERE ARE YOU?”
11:20 PM
Jason Todd: “Fine. Be that way. Don’t blame me when I start a manhunt across Gotham for your short ass.”
11:30 PM
Jason Todd: “I swear, I’m gonna slap a tracking chip on you when I find you.”
Jason Todd was a man of instincts. And his instincts told him that when Damian wasn’t responding to his texts or calls, it usually meant trouble. So, with a completely healthy concern for his younger brother, Jason had spent the past 30 minutes searching for him through Gotham.
For all Jason knew, the brat had gotten himself into trouble, which meant it was now his problem to deal with.
“Stupid kid,” Jason grumbled as he entered a public park. “Out here giving me heart attacks like I don’t have enough to deal with o—”
He froze mid-rant when he spotted a familiar figure sitting casually on a bench under a streetlight. Damian, in his civilian clothes, reclined against the wooden slats with an air of complete peace, one leg crossed over the other.
In one hand was a bag of chips, which he lazily popped into his mouth. A little further ahead, Titus bounded through the grass, chasing after a moth that had no chance of survival.
Jason blinked, stunned for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting—maybe Damian fighting crime solo or skulking somewhere dark—but this? This was domestic.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jason muttered.
Without looking up, Damian spoke as if he’d been expecting him. “Your heavy footsteps gave you away before you even entered the park.”
Jason snorted, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he approached. “Nice to see you too, Your Highness. Thought you’d been kidnapped or something.”
Damian raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “By whom? The pigeons? I’m clearly fine.”
Jason stared at him, torn between annoyance and amusement. “You had me hunting you down like you were bleeding out in a ditch somewhere, and you’re just feeding Titus snacks and eating chips in a park.”
“You shouldn’t have worried,” Damian replied with a small shrug, though Jason didn’t miss the way his tone softened just slightly. “I needed fresh air, and Titus needed exercise. I assumed you had better things to do than track me down.”
Jason sighed dramatically, plopping down on the bench beside him. “I did have better things to do, thank you very much. But I guess I couldn’t let you get eaten by a raccoon or something.”
Damian huffed a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head. “I would like to see the raccoon that thinks it could best me.”
Jason leaned back, resting his arm across the top of the bench as he glanced sideways at Damian. “You know you could’ve just told someone you were heading out. Saved me from playing detective.”
Damian glanced at him with something bordering on guilt before looking back at Titus, who was rolling around in the grass. “Noted.”
“Good.” Jason nudged the chip bag with his elbow. “Now hand those over. If I’m out here babysitting you, I at least deserve snacks.”
Damian scowled, clutching the bag protectively. “Get your own.”
“Unbelievable,” Jason muttered, but he couldn’t help the small grin tugging at his lips.
For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, Jason stealing a few chips when Damian wasn't looking. It wasn’t the chaotic rescue mission he had braced himself for, but somehow, it was better.
“You’re lucky I didn’t drag you back to the Manor,” Jason finally muttered. “Keep ignoring me like that, and I might.”
Damian didn’t dignify that with a response, but Jason swore he saw the tiniest twitch of a smile.
Jason leaned back, watching Titus finally give up his pursuit of the moth and trot over to the bench. The big dog plopped down at Damian’s feet with a huff, his tail thumping softly against the ground.
“You know,” Jason began, stretching his legs out in front of him, “I’ve been shot at less times in a week than I’ve had to chase you down this month. You ever think about giving me a break?”
Damian rolled his eyes, brushing stray chip crumbs off his lap. “Perhaps if you didn’t overreact to minor deviations in routine, you wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed.” He said the last word with mock pity, complete with air quotes.
Jason’s jaw dropped. “Minor deviations? Ignoring your phone for hours isn’t minor, demon. You’re part of a family filled with paranoid vigilantes. We all think the worst immediately.”
Damian tilted his head, clearly unimpressed. “And yet, here I am, completely unscathed. Imagine that.”
Jason groaned and tilted his head back to stare at the sky. “You’re gonna send me to an early grave. You know that, right?”
“I highly doubt it,” Damian said dryly, though there was a faint twitch of amusement in his expression. He tossed the now-empty chip bag into a nearby trash can with practiced precision. “But I appreciate your concern.”
Jason straightened and turned to look at him. “Wait, what? Did you just—did you just say you appreciate something I did?”
Damian crossed his arms and scowled, looking away. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Jason smirked, leaning closer. “Nah, say it again. Come on. I want to savor it. ‘Thank you, Jason, for caring about my wellbeing.’ Maybe add in a little ‘You’re my favorite brother’ while we’re at it.”
Damian gave him a flat look. “If I say you’re my favorite, will you promise not to speak for the rest of the evening?”
Jason gasped in mock offense.
Later that night, Jason did, in fact, walk Damian back to the Manor. He’d grumbled the entire way, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, while Damian made it his mission to ignore him with the utmost elegance. Titus padded along happily, oblivious to the brewing tension.
By the time they reached the Manor gates, Jason’s rant had wound down into a muttered lecture about “basic decency” and “not letting people think you’ve been kidnapped by Gotham’s weirdos.”
Damian, utterly unfazed, simply nodded. “Goodnight, Todd,” he said briskly before disappearing into the house without another word.
Jason stood there for a moment, shaking his head. “Little demon,” he muttered, turning to head back to his own place. He had barely walked two blocks away from the Manor when he felt the itch of paranoia settle in his chest.
Back in his own apartment, Jason kicked off his boots, dropped his jacket on the nearest chair, and let out a long breath. His phone buzzed with a notification from his tracker app. A little red dot blinked steadily on the map.
“Perfect,” Jason muttered to himself. He wasn’t actually planning to stalk the kid, but knowing Damian’s exact location gave him peace of mind.
Inside his room, Damian shed his jacket and boots, sighing as he flopped onto his bed. He buried his face into his pillow, his body melting into the mattress as exhaustion crept over him.
It wasn’t like Jason to be so… persistent. Usually, he’d send a snarky text and call it a day. But tonight, he’d insisted on walking Damian back to the Manor, mumbling something about “ensuring he didn’t get mugged.” As if Damian couldn’t handle a Gotham mugger blindfolded.
He shifted, trying to get comfortable, but something hard pressed against his lower back. Frowning, Damian sat up and patted his side. His fingers brushed against a small, round object hidden under the fabric of his shirt. Pulling the material up, his eyes narrowed as he found a tiny device stuck to him.
The tracking chip gleamed under the warm glow of his bedside lamp, looking both innocuous and insidious.
“Todd,” Damian muttered darkly, turning the chip over in his hand. His grip tightened instinctively. He could crush it in a heartbeat, grind the offending device into powder.
But then a more devious idea struck him.
“Apologies, Alfred,” Damian murmured, scratching the cat’s head as it lay sprawled on the carpet. “This is a necessary sacrifice.”
The cat gave an unimpressed yawn but didn’t resist when Damian deftly secured the chip onto its collar. Once satisfied, Damian leaned back on his heels, arms crossed.
“Perfect,” he said, a rare smirk tugging at his lips.
Back in his apartment, Jason was brushing his teeth when his phone buzzed again. Curious, he swiped it open. The blinking red dot on the tracker app had started to move.
“Good. Guess the kid’s up and around the house,” he muttered, rinsing his mouth.
But as he watched, the dot made an erratic beeline across the map, pausing, then darting off in an entirely new direction.
Jason frowned. “What the hell…”
The dot was now circling the Manor grounds, moving too fast to be Damian. Suspicious, Jason grabbed his jacket and boots, ready to head out again.
Meanwhile, Damian was already tucked back into bed, arms behind his head, a book propped against his knees. He barely held back a laugh when his phone lit up with a series of texts from Jason.
11:45 PM
Jason Todd: “Why is your signal running laps outside?”
11:47 PM
Jason Todd: “Don’t tell me you’re out there training at this hour. It’s freezing.”
11:50 PM
Jason Todd: “Damian. Explain. Now.”
Damian set his book down, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he typed out a reply.
11:51 PM
Damian Wayne: “Perhaps you underestimated my stamina.”
He could almost hear Jason’s frustrated groan from across the city.