Work Text:
The Batcave was its usual symphony of controlled chaos.
Dick was upside down on the training bars, doing something that made his spine look like it had been replaced with rubber bands. Tim had three holographic screens floating around his head and was muttering about supply chain logistics for a safehouse in the Bowery. Damian was sharpening a sword while glaring at Stephanie, who was definitely not supposed to be touching one of Bruce's old prototype gauntlets but was doing it anyway. Duke was trying to mediate between Cassandra, who was communicating entirely through eyebrow movements, and a very confused Alfred, who had just brought down a tray of sandwiches.
And Jason was cleaning his gun.
It was methodical. Peaceful, even. The soft click-click of the magazine release, the whisper of the cleaning cloth, the faint scent of gun oil. He sat on the edge of the workbench, one boot hooked on a rung, head down, focused.
Nobody paid attention when Salix walked past.
Why would they? Night's End was a regular fixture in the Cave these days, not constant, but familiar enough that his presence didn't trigger alarms. He moved like he always did: silent, unhurried, a shadow wearing a soft gray sweater and dark jeans. His mismatched eyes were fixed on something near the medical bay.
"Oh, for the love of—" Tim didn't even look up from his screens. "Did someone leave the containment unit open again?"
"No," Damian said flatly. "The feline simply materializes. It is a skill."
The feline in question was Manjulika.
She was a magnificent creature. Calico Maine Coon, which meant she was approximately the size of a small dog and twice as judgmental. Her fur was a spectacular patchwork of cream, ginger, and deep charcoal, with a ruff of fur around her neck that made her look like she was wearing an Elizabethan collar. Her tail was a plume of chaos, and her eyes: one gold (?), one green (?), held the cold, ancient wisdom of a creature who had never paid for a single thing in her life.
She was currently perched on top of the Batcomputer's secondary terminal, which she was not supposed to be on, and she was grooming one massive paw with the air of a queen surveying her pathetic, insect subjects.
Salix approached her with the quiet reverence of a man retrieving a bomb.
"Manjulika," he murmured. "Aye aye, come."
The cat ignored him.
She always ignored him. That was the point.
Salix sighed, a soft, long-suffering sound that Jason had heard approximately nine hundred times, and reached up to scoop her off the terminal. Manjulika allowed this with regal tolerance, going limp in his arms like a very expensive, very furry scarf. She immediately began purring, because she was a hypocrite.
The Batfamily went back to their business.
Dick flipped off the bars and landed in a crouch. "So, Timmy, are we sure the safehouse in Bristol isn't compromised?"
"I said probably," Tim corrected. "Probably not compromised."
"That's not comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be."
Stephanie finally gave up on the gauntlet and tossed it onto a nearby table. "Has anyone seen Bruce? The meeting about the joint mission was supposed to start ten minutes ago."
"Batmobile," Cass signed, pointing toward the vehicle bay. "Preparing."
"Of course he is." Stephanie rolled her eyes. "He's probably already running diagnostics and muttering about efficiency ratios."
"My father is a man of preparation," Damian said, sheathing his sword with a sharp click. "Unlike some in this room, who treat operational readiness as a suggestion."
"Was that aimed at me?" Stephanie asked.
"Yes."
"Cool. Cool cool cool." She grabbed a sandwich. "I'm gonna eat this in front of you and you can't stop me."
Damian's eye twitched.
Through all of this, Jason kept cleaning his gun. The barrel gleamed. The slide moved smoothly. He was in a zone.
Salix walked past him.
Manjulika was still in his arms, purring like a motorboat, her massive tail dangling and swaying with each step. Salix's expression was neutral, calm, even his mismatched eyes half-lidded in that particular way that made him look like he'd just woken up from a nap he didn't need.
He stopped beside Jason.
Jason didn't look up. He was wiping down the grip. "Hey."
"Hello, love," Salix said.
It was quiet. Almost private. The kind of quiet that existed in the space between two people who knew each other's rhythms.
Jason glanced up.
Salix leaned down.
And kissed him.
On the mouth.
It wasn't a peck. It wasn't chaste. It wasn't the kind of kiss you gave your best friend or your teammate or your guy you knew from work. It was a proper kiss—firm, intentional, with just a hint of tongue, and it lasted exactly long enough for Jason to make a soft, surprised sound against Salix's lips.
Then Salix pulled back.
His expression hadn't changed. Still calm. Still half-lidded. Still holding Manjulika like a fluffy, judgmental shield.
"See you later," he said.
And then he walked toward the Batmobile bay, presumably to meet Bruce for the joint mission, leaving Jason sitting there with his gun half-cleaned, his face slowly turning red, and his mouth still slightly open.
The Batcave went absolutely silent.
Dick's jaw dropped.
Tim's holographic screens flickered and died as his hands froze mid-air.
Stephanie's sandwich fell out of her mouth.
Damian's sword, which he had just sheathed, was suddenly in his hand again, because he was dramatic.
Cass was smiling. She was the only one smiling.
Duke blinked. Then blinked again. Then turned to look at Tim, then at Dick, then at Jason, then back at Tim. "Did I—did I just see that?"
"You saw it," Tim said faintly.
"Okay. Okay. Just checking."
Stephanie recovered her sandwich from the floor, stared at it, and then set it down because she had bigger concerns. "JASON TODD."
Jason winced. "In my defense—"
"IN YOUR DEFENSE?" Stephanie's voice hit a pitch that probably bothered bats. "You just got kissed! By Night's End! In front of all of us!"
"It wasn't in front of all of us," Jason muttered. "Bruce wasn't here."
"BRUCE WASN'T—" Stephanie made a sound like a teakettle having a breakdown. "THAT'S YOUR DEFENSE? THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE LEADING WITH?"
Tim had rebooted his screens and was already typing. "I'm updating the family group chat."
"Don't," Jason said.
"Too late."
Duke rubbed his temples. "Okay, but—hold on. I need to understand something. Weren't you two not together? Weren't you broken up?"
Jason's face did something complicated. "We were."
"And now you're... not?"
"We're... back together."
"When?"
Jason looked toward the Batmobile bay, where Salix had disappeared. Then he looked back at Duke. Then he shrugged. "Like... twenty minutes ago?"
"TWENTY MINUTES AGO?" Stephanie shrieked.
"He texted me," Jason said, as if that explained anything. "Said he was coming to get Manjulika. Asked if I wanted to get back together. I said yes. Then he showed up. And then..." He gestured vaguely toward his own face. "You saw the rest."
Dick had finally closed his mouth. He was now staring at Jason with the expression of an older brother who had just discovered that his younger sibling had been secretly dating someone for years and had never mentioned it. Except it wasn't years. It was nine breakups.
"Jay," Dick said slowly. "This is the ninth time."
"I know."
"Ninth."
"I'm aware."
"You've broken up eight times. And now you're back together for the ninth. That's—that's a lot of breakups, little wing."
Jason shrugged again, but there was something soft in his expression now. Something warm. "He makes me happy."
Damian lowered his sword. "Todd, I have watched you weep into a bowl of cereal over this person. Multiple times."
"That was once."
"It was four times."
"Okay, maybe it was four times. But that was before." Jason set his gun down and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I know how it sounds. I know it's—weird. And complicated. And there's the whole thing with Bruce—"
"The thing with Bruce?" Tim's head snapped up. "What thing with Bruce?"
Jason winced. "Uh. Nothing. Forget I said that."
"Jason."
"It's not like that." Jason's voice went defensive. "Salix and Bruce are just—they're best friends. That's it. That's all it's ever been. I was weird about it at first, but I'm not anymore."
"Nine breakups says you were more than just weird about it," Stephanie said.
"Yeah, well." Jason's shoulders relaxed. "It took me eight times to figure my shit out. Ninth time's the charm."
Cass nodded sagely. She signed something that looked like good for them.
Duke squinted at her. "What did she say?"
"She said they're both idiots and deserve each other," Tim translated.
"Accurate," Duke admitted.
Stephanie threw her hands in the air. "I can't believe Bruce missed this. I can't believe Bruce was right there in the Batmobile and he missed his best friend kissing his son in the middle of the cave."
"Bruce doesn't miss anything," Dick said, but he didn't sound convinced.
As if on cue, the Batmobile's engine rumbled to life. The vehicle bay doors began to open. And through the glass, they could see Bruce in the driver's seat, already running through pre-flight checks, completely oblivious to the absolute chaos that had just unfolded twenty yards behind him.
Salix appeared at the passenger side door, Manjulika still in his arms. He opened the door, climbed in, and settled into the seat like he belonged there. Which, apparently, he did.
The Batmobile pulled out of the bay and disappeared up the ramp.
The cave was silent again.
Then Alfred's voice came over the intercom, dry as a martini: "I do hope everyone witnessed that. Master Bruce has been asking when Master Jason and Mister Sawako would reconcile. I believe he owes me twenty dollars."
Jason dropped his face into his hands.
Stephanie started laughing. Loudly. Hysterically.
Tim was already typing. "The group chat is going insane. Barbara wants to know if this is a prank. Steph, I'm adding you to this conversation."
"I have so many questions," Stephanie wheezed.
"Join the club," Duke muttered.
Dick walked over to Jason and put a hand on his shoulder. "Little wing. For real. Are you okay?"
Jason looked up. His face was still red, but his eyes were bright. Fond. Happy.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay. I'm—" He laughed, a little breathless. "I'm really okay."
Dick studied him for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Good. That's good." He paused. "But I'm still putting you in the will."
"What will?"
"My hypothetical will. You're getting the good spoons."
"I don't want your hypothetical spoons, Dick."
"Too late. They're yours."
Jason groaned.
But he was smiling.
Twenty minutes later, Bruce's phone buzzed with approximately forty-seven messages from the family group chat.
He didn't check it until the mission was over.
Salix watched him scroll through the chaos, his mismatched eyes warm with amusement.
"So," Bruce said slowly, still staring at his phone. "You and Jason."
"Yes."
"You're back together."
"We are."
Bruce was quiet for a moment. Then he looked up. "Alfred owes me twenty dollars."
Salix laughed softly, genuine, catlike in its quiet pleasure. "I told you he'd come back."
"You told me it would take at least ten breakups."
"Ninth time's the charm." Salix leaned his head against the window of the Batmobile, watching Gotham's skyline blur past. "I was off by one."
Bruce shook his head. But he was smiling too.
Just a little.