Chapter Text
Damian Wayne had never trusted aliens on principle.
This was not, as Grayson had once accused him, “speciesism with a cape.” It was prudence. It was vigilance. It was a rational and completely reasonable assessment of Earth’s long-standing problem with strange glowing rocks, intergalactic despots, mind-control spores, white Martians, yellow suns, red suns, bottled cities, and men who could bench-press continents while claiming to be “just here to help.”
Superman, specifically, was a problem.
Not because he had done anything wrong.
That was, in Damian’s opinion, worse.
If Kent had done something obviously treacherous, Damian could have acted. He could have prepared contingencies. He could have presented a case. He could have said, “Father, I told you so,” while standing over the smoking crater of an alien betrayal, which would have been very unpleasant but at least satisfying in the traditional sense.
Instead, Kent simply kept showing up.
He showed up during League meetings with warm smiles and coffee for Father. He showed up in Gotham when Father had not slept in three days. He showed up in the Cave with absurd Kansas manners, offering Alfred help with trays as if he were not a solar-powered foreign weapon from beyond the stars. He showed up when Father was injured, when Father was angry, when Father had gone quiet in that way that made everyone in the Manor move softer.
And Father let him.
Father, who trusted no one.
Father, who had once placed three separate trackers on Grayson during a family brunch because Grayson had said, “I’m just going for a walk,” with too much casualness.
Father, who had contingency plans for every member of the Justice League, every rogue in Gotham, every known Lantern Corps, and possibly several weather patterns.
Father let Clark Kent put a hand on his shoulder.
Damian had seen it.
Worse, Father had not removed the hand.
This was unacceptable.
Which was why Damian was currently crouched in the Cave beside Titus, holding a small sealed canister between two gloved fingers and speaking in the calm, firm tone of a commander preparing his most trusted operative for a mission of grave importance.
“Titus,” Damian said, “you are not to chew this.”
Titus wagged his tail.
“This is not a toy.”
Titus wagged harder.
“This is a precision instrument intended to reveal the true intentions of a potentially dangerous extraterrestrial.”
Titus barked once.
Damian narrowed his eyes. “Do not take that tone with me.”
Across the Cave, Tim did not even look up from his laptop. “Are you lecturing the dog about espionage again?”
“I am briefing him.”
“You’re briefing the dog.”
“Titus has better mission discipline than Drake.”
Tim finally looked up. “Titus once ate one of Bruce’s gloves.”
“He was testing the tensile strength.”
“He threw up in the Batmobile.”
“A sacrifice for science.”
Jason, who was sprawled in one of the Cave chairs with his boots on the edge of the computer console until Alfred’s presence inevitably manifested like divine judgment, snorted. “I gotta say, Demon Spawn, using the dog for a covert op is either genius or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”
“It can be both,” Dick said, strolling in with a protein bar in one hand and a deeply concerned expression on his face. “Why does Titus have his little utility vest on?”
Titus sat proudly. The vest was black, reinforced, and bore a tiny yellow bat symbol that Damian had insisted was “functional identification” and not, as Stephanie had said, “the cutest war crime ever.”
Damian stood and slipped the canister into a padded compartment on Titus’s vest.
Dick froze. “No.”
“You do not even know what I am doing.”
“I know that tone. That’s your ‘I have decided the Geneva Conventions are more like guidelines’ tone.”
“They do not apply to Kryptonians.”
Tim’s eyes widened. “Oh my god.”
Jason sat up, delighted. “Oh, this just got good.”
Dick pointed at Damian. “Absolutely not.”
Damian lifted his chin. “Kent is suspicious.”
“Clark?” Dick asked. “Clark Kent? Human golden retriever Clark Kent?”
“He is not human.”
“That’s your issue?”
“My issue,” Damian said, “is that Father has allowed Kent closer than any other non-family member, despite Kent’s dangerous power set and unknown long-term intentions.”
Tim opened his mouth.
Damian held up a hand. “Do not say Kansas.”
Tim closed his mouth, then opened it again. “I was going to say Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, but honestly Kansas was in the top three.”
Jason grinned. “I love that your plan for figuring out if Superman is evil is to send your dog through a teleportation tube with truth gas.”
“It is not gas,” Damian snapped. “It is a modified aerosolized compound derived from the canisters we recovered last week.”
“The truth serum toxin canisters,” Dick said flatly.
“The low-dose, nonlethal, temporary truth serum toxin canisters,” Damian corrected. “I altered the release mechanism. It will create a controlled mist in close proximity to the target. Titus has been fitted with a protective collar filter.”
Titus wagged his tail at the sound of his name.
Dick crouched in front of him. “Buddy, I want you to know I support you, but I do not support your career choices.”
Titus licked his face.
“A traitor,” Damian muttered.
Tim had already gotten up. “Damian, Bruce will absolutely ground you until the sun burns out.”
“I have calculated the risk.”
Jason laughed. “No, you calculated the risk of Superman being secretly evil. You did not calculate the risk of Bruce finding out you tried to dose his best friend with magical emotional laxative.”
Damian’s expression flickered.
“Father would understand.”
All three of his brothers stared at him.
Damian looked away. “Eventually.”
Before any of them could move, Titus bolted.
For a dog trained by Batman’s son, Titus was very good at moving when people underestimated him. He darted around Dick, slipped past Tim’s grabbing hand, and sprinted toward the Zeta Tube with the joyful determination of a creature who believed every mission should end in treats.
“Titus!” Dick shouted.
Damian’s eyes widened. “Titus, heel!”
Titus did not heel.
“He learned that from you,” Tim said.
“He learned independence,” Damian snapped, running after him.
Jason was already laughing so hard he nearly tripped over the chair. “This is the best day of my life.”
The Zeta Tube powered up.
“Recognized,” the computer announced calmly, because the computer had apparently decided to aid and abet treason. “Titus Wayne. Access code Robin-five-one.”
Dick skidded. “You gave the dog a Zeta access code?”
Damian did not answer, which was answer enough.
The tube flashed.
Titus vanished.
There was one beat of silence.
Then Tim said, “Bruce is going to kill us.”
Jason slapped a hand over his heart. “Us? I’m a witness. I’m innocent.”
“You’re laughing,” Dick said.
“I’m emotionally innocent.”
Damian was already at the console. His fingers flew over the keys as he tracked the transport destination.
“Watchtower,” he said.
Dick groaned.
Jason leaned over Tim’s shoulder. “Where on the Watchtower?”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “Main corridor outside meeting room three.”
Tim exhaled. “Okay. Okay, not terrible. Clark is probably in the meeting room.”
“That was the intended outcome,” Damian said.
Dick pointed at the screen. “And the canister?”
Damian pressed a button. “Still armed.”
“Disarm it.”
“I cannot remotely disarm it once it has entered proximity mode.”
Tim stared at him. “Why would you design it that way?”
“To prevent hostile interference.”
“From Superman?”
“Yes.”
Jason wiped tears from his eyes. “I am so proud of how stupid this is.”
On the screen, a small security feed blinked open.
The Watchtower hallway appeared.
Titus trotted into frame, looking very pleased with himself.
For three full seconds, everything seemed like it might still be salvageable.
Then Hal Jordan rounded the corner.
He was carrying a coffee in one hand, a tablet in the other, and wearing the deeply relaxed expression of a man who had no idea he was about to become the funniest casualty of Damian Wayne’s paranoia.
Titus stopped.
Hal stopped.
The two of them stared at each other.
“Oh hey, Bat-pup,” Hal said on the feed. “What are you doing up here?”
Titus wagged his tail.
Damian whispered, “No.”
Dick covered his mouth.
Tim said, “Oh no.”
Jason said, “Oh yes.”
Hal crouched, because Hal Jordan had many virtues, but survival instincts were not always among them. “Did Bats send you? Is this a little intimidation thing? Because I gotta say, adorable. Very on-brand. Ten out of ten. Would be menaced again.”
Titus barked once.
The compartment on his vest clicked.
Hal blinked. “Was that supposed to—”
The canister detonated in a soft, glittering puff of pale blue mist.
Hal vanished inside it.
In the Cave, everyone froze.
On the screen, Hal coughed once.
Titus sneezed, shook himself, and trotted away unharmed.
The mist cleared.
Hal stood in the corridor, eyes watering slightly, coffee still in hand.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the meeting room doors opened and Superman stepped out.
“Hal?” Clark asked. “Are you all right?”
Hal turned to him with a grave expression.
“Your hair is ridiculous,” Hal said.
Clark blinked. “What?”
“It’s too perfect. Nobody’s hair should do that little curl naturally. It feels aggressive. Like your forehead is flirting with democracy.”
In the Cave, Jason made a strangled sound.
Tim slapped both hands over his mouth.
Dick whispered, “Oh my god.”
Damian stared at the screen in horror.
Clark’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you… feeling okay?”
“No,” Hal said honestly. “I feel compelled to tell the truth, and the truth is that you are exhausting to stand next to because you look like a statue got a farm-boy software update.”
Clark looked down the hallway.
“Bruce?” he called.
The meeting room doors opened again.
Batman appeared.
Damian went pale.
Jason whispered, “And there he is.”
Batman took in Hal, the dissipating mist, Titus happily sitting by the wall, and the small canister shell rolling across the floor.
Slowly, Batman looked directly toward the security camera.
Even through a screen, even from several thousand miles away, even with no visible pupils behind the cowl, Damian felt the look hit him like a physical object.
Tim leaned away from Damian. “He knows.”
“Of course he knows,” Dick whispered. “He’s Batman.”
Hal followed Bruce’s gaze to the camera. “Oh. Are the children watching?”
Batman said nothing.
Hal pointed at the camera with his coffee cup. “I know it was one of yours. Everything weird, emotionally damaging, or shaped like a bat comes from your house.”
Jason wheezed.
Batman turned back to Hal. “Jordan. What happened?”
Hal straightened, then immediately answered, “Your dog exploded truth mist on me.”
Batman’s jaw tightened.
Clark made a noise suspiciously close to a laugh.
Hal looked at him. “Do not laugh. You were probably the target, you gorgeous alien Boy Scout.”
Clark’s face went pink.
Batman’s head turned slowly toward Clark.
Clark cleared his throat. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking something smug,” Batman said.
“I was thinking Titus looks cute in the vest.”
“He does,” Hal said loudly. “He looks extremely cute. Honestly, the dog might be the best-dressed member of your family, and that is saying something because Nightwing’s suit is basically a crime scene for bisexual lighting.”
In the Cave, Dick choked.
Jason turned to him with an enormous grin. “Well?”
Dick’s ears went red. “We are not discussing that.”
Tim was bent over, silently shaking with laughter.
Damian looked like he was witnessing the collapse of civilization.
On the Watchtower feed, Diana stepped into the hallway, followed by Barry, J’onn, Arthur, and several other League members who had clearly heard the words gorgeous alien Boy Scout and come running.
“What is happening?” Diana asked.
Hal turned toward her and sighed dreamily.
“Oh no,” Barry said.
Hal pointed at Diana. “You are terrifyingly beautiful.”
Diana smiled. “Thank you.”
“No, I mean terrifying. Respectfully. You walk into a room and every insecure thought I have puts itself in a little grave. It is unfair. You look like truth, justice, and a very expensive sword had a daughter.”
Diana’s smile widened. “That is one of the better compliments I have received.”
Arthur crossed his arms. “This is truth serum, isn’t it?”
Hal turned to him. “You smell like ocean and royal divorce.”
Arthur stared.
Mera, from somewhere off-screen, laughed.
Hal continued, “But in a good way. Very rugged. Very ‘I could command a shark and also ruin your credit score.’”
Barry raised a hand. “Do me.”
Batman said, “Allen.”
“What? I’m curious.”
Hal squinted at Barry. “You are adorable in a way that makes me tired.”
Barry gasped. “That’s so accurate.”
“You talk like punctuation is chasing you.”
“That is also accurate.”
“You have the emotional energy of a golden retriever after three espressos.”
Barry nodded thoughtfully. “I accept all of this.”
J’onn folded his hands behind his back. “And me?”
Hal looked at him, then softened. “You make everyone feel safer than they admit.”
The hallway quieted.
J’onn inclined his head. “Thank you, Hal.”
Hal frowned. “Also your cookie opinions are wrong. Chocos are fine but you act like they’re a religious experience, and sometimes I worry about you.”
J’onn nodded again. “That is also fair.”
Clark was very clearly trying not to laugh now.
Batman was very clearly planning several murders.
Unfortunately, Hal noticed him.
“Oh,” Hal said.
The entire hallway seemed to hold its breath.
Batman went still.
Hal looked him up and down, eyes wide with the doomed sincerity of a man who could no longer keep one single thought inside his skull.
“You,” Hal said, “are my favorite.”
In the Cave, the laughter stopped so abruptly it was almost violent.
Damian blinked.
Dick’s expression softened.
Tim mouthed, What?
Jason whispered, “Oh, this is going to be good.”
Batman said, “Jordan.”
“No, no, I know,” Hal said quickly. “I know I pretend you’re annoying because you are. You are so annoying. You communicate like a haunted filing cabinet. You brood in corners that do not even have architectural support for brooding. You once answered a yes-or-no question with seven seconds of silence and somehow made it feel like a threat.”
Barry nodded. “He does do that.”
Batman’s head turned a fraction.
Barry stopped nodding.
Hal kept going, helpless now. “But you are my favorite League member. You always know what to do. You act like you don’t care, but you care the most, which is deeply irritating and also weirdly comforting. You make plans for everyone. You notice everything. You scare the hell out of me, obviously.”
Batman’s mouth flattened.
Hal pointed at him. “Do not make that face. You know you scare people. You cultivate it. It's why I call you Spooky, it's almost like you were born out of the shadpws. You have a voice like a gravel driveway with abandonment issues, but like its still hot.”
Clark made a small choking noise.
Diana looked delighted.
Hal stepped closer to Batman and lowered his voice, though not enough for any of the microphones to miss it.
“And it's also so unfair that your that attractive, why do you always look like you stepped out of a GQ magazine without the cowl on.”
The hallway exploded.
Barry made a sound like he had been shot.
Arthur coughed into his fist.
Diana turned away, shoulders shaking.
Clark stared very hard at the ceiling.
Batman did not move.
In the Cave, Jason fell out of the chair.
Dick made an inhuman sound and grabbed Tim’s shoulder for support.
Tim had tears in his eyes. “I can’t breathe.”
Damian looked betrayed by reality itself.
Hal, tragically, was not finished.
“It’s very annoying,” Hal said to Batman. “Because you’re terrifying. But then you take the cowl off and you’re still terrifying, just with cheekbones. How is that fair? It’s not. Some of us have to rely on charm and a magic space ring. You just stand there looking like gothic trauma learned Pilates.”
Batman said, very quietly, “Enough.”
Hal immediately said, “I would stop if I could.”
That made Clark lose the fight. A laugh escaped him.
Batman turned his head.
Clark pressed his lips together, failed, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Batman said.
“I’m a little sorry.”
“You are not.”
“I am emotionally sorry.”
Hal pointed at Clark. “He thinks you’re his favorite too, but in a much more wholesome way. Like emotionally constipated soulmates.”
Clark’s eyes widened. “Hal.”
Batman’s chin dipped.
The Cave went silent again.
Dick whispered, “Oh, Clark is dead.”
Jason, still on the floor, whispered back, “Worth it.”
Tim’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. “Should we cut the feed?”
Damian, pale and frozen, said, “No.”
Everyone stared at him.
Damian swallowed. “This is… intelligence.”
Jason wheezed. “You are such a little freak.”
On the Watchtower, Clark was now bright red.
Batman had gone so still he might as well have been a gargoyle.
Hal turned to Clark sympathetically. “Sorry, buddy. It’s the mist. I have no filter. None. I can feel every thought sprinting toward my mouth like it’s trying to escape a burning building.”
Diana stepped forward with entirely too much amusement in her eyes. “Perhaps we should move Hal to medical.”
“Yes,” Batman said immediately.
Hal looked relieved. “Great idea. I have more opinions and some of them are about Ollie’s facial hair.”
From somewhere behind the others, Oliver Queen’s voice called, “Hey!”
Hal shouted back, “You look like a youth pastor who got lost at a Renaissance fair!”
Barry doubled over.
Arthur said, “I am beginning to enjoy this.”
The group started guiding Hal down the corridor. Titus trotted after them, tail wagging, utterly unrepentant.
Batman paused.
Slowly, he looked at the camera again.
“Robin,” he said.
Damian straightened instinctively, even though he was in the Cave and Batman could not physically see him.
Probably.
“Yes, Father,” Damian said, though the microphone was muted.
Batman’s stare did not waver.
“You and I,” Batman said, “will discuss this.”
The feed cut out.
For five full seconds, the Cave was silent.
Then Jason screamed with laughter.
Dick slumped against the console, one hand over his face. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Damian.”
Tim looked at the blank screen. “I need to save that footage.”
“You will not,” Damian snapped.
“I need it for science.”
“You will delete it.”
“I’m making three backups.”
“Drake.”
Dick turned to Damian, trying and failing to look stern. “You dosed Hal Jordan with truth serum.”
“That was not the objective.”
“But it was the result.”
Jason climbed back into his chair, wiping his eyes. “And what a result. Little wing, I’m not saying you did the right thing, because Bruce will absolutely hear me and make me spar him, but I am saying this chapter of your villain arc has been wildly entertaining.”
Damian crossed his arms. “The mission failed.”
Tim looked at him. “Did it?”
Damian glared.
Tim tilted his head. “You wanted to know if Clark had good intentions toward Bruce.”
“That information was not obtained.”
“Hal kind of confirmed Clark cares about him.”
Damian’s scowl deepened. “Jordan is unreliable.”
“Truth serum,” Dick reminded him.
“Jordan is unreliable even when chemically compelled.”
Jason grinned. “Face it, kid. Superman’s clean.”
Damian looked away.
Dick softened. “Dami.”
“I did not say he was evil,” Damian muttered.
“No,” Tim said gently. “You said he was a dangerous extraterrestrial with unknown long-term intentions.”
“That is different.”
Dick came closer. “You’re worried about Bruce.”
Damian’s shoulders stiffened.
Jason’s grin faded a little.
Tim leaned against the console, quieter now.
Damian stared at the Zeta Tube, jaw tight. “Father trusts him.”
Dick nodded. “Yeah.”
“Father does not trust easily.”
“No,” Dick said. “He doesn’t.”
“So if Kent betrays him—”
“He won’t,” Tim said.
Damian snapped his gaze to him.
Tim shrugged. “He won’t. Clark’s annoying, sure. Too wholesome. Suspiciously good at baking. But he’s not pretending with Bruce.”
“You cannot know that.”
“I kind of can,” Tim said. “I’ve watched them for years. Clark argues with him, pushes him, calls him out, and still stays. That’s not someone trying to use him. That’s someone choosing him.”
Damian said nothing.
Jason looked uncomfortable for half a second, then said gruffly, “Besides, if Big Blue ever did hurt Bruce, he’d have to go through all of us.”
Dick smiled faintly. “Exactly.”
Damian’s expression shifted.
Not softened.
Never softened.
But altered, perhaps, by the unpleasant weight of being understood.
“I had contingencies,” he said.
Tim sighed. “Of course you did.”
“For Kent.”
“We know.”
“And Jordan.”
Jason brightened. “Oh, I wanna see that one.”
“No,” Dick said immediately.
Damian lifted his chin. “It involves a yellow paintball gun and psychological warfare.”
Jason pointed at him. “You and me. Later.”
“No one is psychologically warfare-ing Hal,” Dick said. “He’s suffered enough today.”
Tim snorted. “Has he?”
On the main computer, an alert popped up.
Incoming transmission: Watchtower.
Everyone froze.
Dick closed his eyes. “Nobody move.”
The call connected before anyone touched the controls.
Batman appeared on the screen.
Behind him, in the Watchtower medical bay, Hal sat on an exam bed while J’onn scanned him. Superman stood nearby with Titus in his arms. Titus looked extremely comfortable for a war criminal.
Hal was talking.
“—and I’m just saying, if Bruce smiled more, people would either trust him more or panic. Hard to say. Could go either way.”
Batman’s expression was carved from stone.
Clark was still red around the ears.
Titus barked happily.
Damian stood straighter.
Batman said, “Robin.”
“Father.”
“Explain.”
Damian considered lying.
He considered deflecting.
He considered accusing Drake, because Drake had once blamed him for hiding coffee filters and therefore deserved consequences.
Instead, Damian looked at the screen and said, “I wanted to verify that Kent had no harmful intentions toward you.”
Clark’s face changed.
The humor faded from it, replaced by something gentler.
Bruce did not visibly react. “So you sent Titus with a truth serum canister.”
“Yes.”
“To dose Superman.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave the dog Zeta Tube access.”
Damian hesitated. “Limited access.”
Bruce stared.
Damian added, “In theory.”
Jason made a sound that he badly disguised as a cough.
Batman’s eyes flicked briefly toward him.
Jason shut up.
Clark stepped forward. “Bruce—”
Batman held up one hand.
Clark stopped.
Bruce looked back at Damian. “You endangered a League member.”
Damian’s mouth tightened. “I know.”
“You used League transport without authorization.”
“Yes.”
“You weaponized Titus.”
Titus barked.
Damian’s face twitched. “He volunteered.”
“Robin.”
“He was enthusiastic.”
Bruce stared at him for so long that Dick shifted uncomfortably.
Then Hal leaned into frame.
“Baby Bat,” he said, “I forgive you.”
Damian blinked.
Hal looked deeply sincere and deeply unable to stop speaking. “I mean, I’m furious, obviously. Nobody likes being surprise-poisoned by a dog in a tactical vest. But I understand the impulse. Superman is suspiciously nice. It throws people off.”
Clark sighed. “Hal.”
“You are,” Hal said. “You’re like if a sunrise had parents.”
Clark closed his eyes.
Hal looked back at Damian. “But he’s good. Annoyingly good. Like, makes-you-want-to-be-a-better-person good. It’s gross.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed. “And his intentions toward Father?”
Hal immediately said, “Disgustingly pure.”
Bruce’s jaw flexed.
Clark’s whole face went red.
The Cave went silent again, but this time it was the good kind of silent. The kind that happened right before several people chose survival over laughter.
Hal continued, because the universe was not done punishing Bruce Wayne.
“He worries about him constantly. Like, constantly. It’s very sweet and also kind of exhausting to witness. He thinks Batman is brilliant and brave and impossible and too hard on himself, and he wants him to sleep more and eat soup when injured. He also thinks Bruce is his best friend, which everyone knows except maybe Bruce, because Bruce treats emotional revelations like land mines.”
Bruce said, “Jordan.”
Hal winced. “Still can’t stop. OMG also how cute is it that Spooky has so many children, I almost wish he would adopt me”
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
"Um but like ya no need to worry about Clark kid." Hal looked down embarrassed.
Damian stared at Clark.
Clark shifted awkwardly, still holding Titus. “He’s my friend, Damian.”
Damian did not answer.
Clark met his eyes through the screen. “I know you’re protecting him. I respect that. But I’m not here to take anything from your family. I’m not here to hurt him. I care about him.”
Bruce was very still.
Clark glanced at him, then back at Damian. “And I care about all of you because he does.”
Dick’s face softened completely.
Tim suddenly found the floor fascinating.
Jason looked away, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Corn-fed bastard.”
Damian stood rigid for a long moment.
Then he said, “If you betray him, I have plans.”
Clark nodded solemnly. “I know.”
“They are extensive.”
“I assumed.”
“One involves kryptonite, three decoys, and a goose.”
Clark blinked.
Hal whispered, “A goose?”
Batman said, “We will discuss that as well.”
Damian inclined his head. “Very well.”
Bruce’s gaze remained on him, stern and heavy.
“You are grounded from independent Zeta Tube access.”
Damian opened his mouth.
Bruce said, “So is Titus.”
Titus barked indignantly.
Damian’s eyes widened. “Father, Titus cannot be punished. He was acting under orders.”
“Then you will serve his sentence.”
Jason lost it again.
Dick tried to smother a laugh and failed.
Tim whispered, “Amazing.”
Damian looked betrayed. “That is unjust.”
“That is leadership,” Bruce said.
Hal nodded sagely. “This is why he’s my favorite. Terrifying. Attractive. Good at consequences.”
Bruce slowly turned his head.
Hal held up both hands. “Still poisoned.”
J’onn, looking much too amused, said, “The compound should wear off within the hour.”
“An hour?” Hal demanded. “I cannot survive an hour with my own thoughts becoming public property.”
Barry popped his head into frame. “Too late. You already told Ollie his chili tastes like cowboy regret.”
Hal groaned. “It does.”
Oliver shouted from off-screen, “I heard that!”
“Good!” Hal shouted back. “Season your food!”
Batman pinched the bridge of his nose.
It was such a small gesture, so very human, that Damian felt some of the tightness in his chest ease despite himself.
Clark, still holding Titus, smiled faintly.
Titus licked Clark’s chin.
Damian pointed at the screen. “Do not allow him to become attached to Kent.”
Clark looked down at Titus. “Too late.”
Titus wagged his tail.
Damian’s mouth dropped open. “Titus.”
Hal leaned toward the dog. “Honestly, same. He has that effect. Big warm alien teddy bear.”
Clark sighed. “I’m never living this down.”
“No,” Diana said pleasantly from off-screen. “You are not.”
Bruce looked back at Damian.
His voice was still Batman’s voice, low and controlled, but there was something beneath it that Damian knew well enough to recognize.
Not anger.
Not only anger.
Concern.
“We will talk when I return.”
Damian nodded once. “Yes, Father.”
Bruce paused.
Then he added, “No more canisters.”
Damian said nothing.
“Robin.”
“I heard you.”
“Say it.”
Damian’s jaw worked. “No more canisters.”
Jason leaned toward Tim and whispered, “He’s lying.”
“I know,” Tim whispered back.
“So does Bruce.”
“I know.”
Batman’s eyes narrowed. “All of you are grounded from the canisters.”
Dick threw up his hands. “I didn’t even do anything!”
Bruce stared.
Dick lowered his hands. “Okay, historically that has not mattered.”
The transmission ended.
For a moment, the Cave was quiet again.
Then Jason clapped Damian on the shoulder hard enough to jostle him. “Well, kid, you failed your mission, traumatized Hal, made Superman blush, got the dog grounded, and accidentally forced the Justice League to admit Batman is hot.”
Damian shoved his hand off. “I did not force them.”
Tim grinned. “No, the truth serum did.”
Dick shook his head, smiling despite himself. “This family is a nightmare.”
Damian looked toward the empty Zeta Tube, then at the blank screen where Clark had stood holding Titus like he belonged there.
He did not trust the alien.
Not entirely.
Not yet.
But the truth serum had worked.
Just not as intended.
Kent cared for Father. That much was now undeniable. Jordan, despite being a reckless, loud-mouthed, dangerously under-filtered fool, had confirmed it under chemical compulsion. Kent had looked Damian in the eye and had not mocked him. Had not dismissed him. Had understood, somehow, the fear beneath the strategy.
That was irritating.
It was also useful.
Damian crossed his arms.
“I will revise the contingency file,” he announced.
Dick sighed. “To make it less deadly?”
Damian looked offended. “To include the possibility that Kent is sincere.”
Tim smiled. “That’s progress.”
Jason pointed at him. “And the goose?”
“The goose remains.”
“Good.”
Dick looked between them. “No. Absolutely not. Nobody is weaponizing a goose.”
Damian and Jason exchanged a glance.
For the first time all day, they were in perfect agreement.
Dick groaned. “Bruce needs to come home immediately.”
Up on the Watchtower, Hal Jordan’s voice suddenly crackled through the comms, apparently because someone had forgotten to fully sever the channel.
“—and another thing, Batman’s cape is dramatic as hell, but it works. I hate that it works. He looks like vengeance got invited to a black-tie event.”
There was a pause.
Then Clark laughed.
Then Barry laughed.
Then, faintly, unmistakably, Diana laughed.
And beneath it all came Batman’s voice, low and long-suffering.
“Jordan.”
Hal said, “I know, I know. Still poisoned.”
In the Cave, Damian sighed.
Perhaps, he thought, truth was overrated.
But it was occasionally informative.