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The Batcave had seen many things.
It had witnessed the birth of heroes and the fall of villains. It had housed the secrets of a man who dressed like a bat and fought the worst humanity had to offer. It had been the site of strategy meetings, training sessions, and more than a few family arguments that could have leveled smaller buildings.
What it had never seen was Salix Mikolao Sawako, the terror of Osaka's underworld, the immortal god-blooded Yokai who made Ra's al Ghul look like a petty bureaucrat, running through the zeta tube like a man being chased by demons.
Until tonight.
The proximity alarms blared for exactly 1.7 seconds before the system recognized Salix's signature and downgraded the alert to "FRIENDLY," but that was enough to put everyone on high alert. Dick dropped from the gymnastics rings mid-swing. Tim's fingers froze over his keyboard. Damian's hand went to his sword. Barbara's eyes snapped to the main monitor.
Bruce was already rising from the main computer, his cape settling around him like dark wings.
Then Salix launched himself out of the zeta tube.
He wasn't in his Night's End suit. That was the first red flag. Salix lived in that suit the way a fish lived in water; it was an extension of his being, a second skin. But tonight he was wearing civilian clothes: a simple black button-up, dark slacks, and his hair slightly disheveled. His mismatched eyes, one brown, one blue, were wide with something that looked terrifyingly like panic.
"Bruce!" Salix's voice cracked in a way none of them had ever heard. He was sprinting, actually sprinting, across the cave floor with the kind of desperate energy usually reserved for fleeing natural disasters. "Bruce, he's right behind me—"
He dove behind Batman like a child hiding from a monster under the bed. Bruce's cape flared automatically, an instinctive shield.
The Batfamily stared.
Before anyone could process what they were seeing, the zeta tube activated again, and Red Hood stepped out with all the casual arrogance of a man who knew exactly what chaos he had caused.
Jason Todd was in full gear, helmet on, body language radiating predatory satisfaction. He moved with that particular swagger that said he was hunting, and he was enjoying every second of it.
"Why are you running from me?"
Salix, still pressed against Bruce's back like a cat who had seen a vacuum cleaner, peeking around Batman's shoulder with wide eyes: "You tackle me and drag me by the legs every time!"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Dick's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
"I'm sorry," he said slowly, dropping from the bars with theatrical grace. "I need to, I need context. Salix, baby, you're literally one of the scariest people I know. You called the Court of Owls 'poorly organized hobbyists' to their faces. You told Ra's al Ghul that his aesthetic was 'tacky and uninspired.' You once, and I'm quoting—told the Joker that his laugh sounded 'like a dying hyena with a sinus infection.'"
Salix's eye twitched. "That was accurate."
"And you're hiding from Jason?"
There was a pause.
"He's relentless," Salix whispered, and there was genuine betrayal in his voice. "He doesn't stop. He just—he just appears—"
"From the shadows," Jason said helpfully, his voice muffled by the helmet but still dripping with amusement.
"I KNOW YOU DO IT ON PURPOSE."
"I've been practicing for years. You're the best audience."
Tim had already pulled up the cave's security feeds on his monitor. He was running the footage through various filters, cross-referencing with his notes from the past few months. His eyes were wide with the kind of manic glee that usually preceded a major discovery.
"Question," he said, not looking up from his screen. "Is this a recent development, or has this been happening longer than you've let on?"
Salix made a sound like a wounded animal.
"Six months," Jason answered cheerfully, pulling off his helmet. His smile was vicious in the most affectionate way possible. "I figured out he's ticklish."
"I am not—"
"You are. On your ribs. And your neck. And—"
"BRUCE."
Bruce had his hand up, palm out, in the universal "stop" gesture. He looked like a man who had aged ten years in the last thirty seconds. "Jay. Explain."
Jason's grin widened. "He's a menace to everyone else. Scary, untouchable, god-blooded nightmare who makes villains weep. But put him in a room with me and some enthusiasm, and he falls apart. It's cute."
"I am NOT—"
"You screamed last week. It was a good scream."
"I WAS STARTLED."
"You were tickled."
Damian had been silent throughout the exchange, watching with the sharp, assessing focus of a predator evaluating a new dynamic. His hand rested on his sword hilt, but it wasn't in threat, it was in contemplation.
"Todd," he said slowly, "you are aware that you are currently making a fool of yourself in front of a being who could unmake you with a thought?"
Jason's response was immediate. "Not if I'm already making him unmake his own thoughts. He's too busy screaming."
"I DON'T SCREAM."
"Last week, you definitely did. It was a good scream, actually. You're proud of him, right, B?"
Bruce was silently praying to every god he didn't believe in. "Jason. Salix. What is actually happening?"
Salix straightened slightly, trying to salvage what remained of his dignity. His expression was caught somewhere between mortification and genuine distress. "He wants to 'bond' with me."
"And what's wrong with that?" Jason asked innocently.
"He tackles me. He drags me by the legs. He tickles me. I am a SEVENTY-FOOT DRAGON RIDER."
"I'm trying to show physical affection in a way you can't avoid."
"I am an AVOIDANCE EXPERT."
"You're hiding behind your best friend."
"That's strategic positioning."
Barbara had stopped typing entirely. Her hands were frozen over her keyboard as she watched the scene unfold with the expression of someone watching a particularly dramatic soap opera. She was also definitely recording this.
"Oracle to everyone," she said calmly, her voice carrying that professional tone that somehow made everything more absurd. "I'm going to need someone to explain to me why Night's End, who once made the Joker retreat, is currently using Batman as a human shield from Red Hood."
"Because Jay is AGGRESSIVELY AFFECTIONATE," Salix yelled, his voice bouncing off the cave walls. "He doesn't stop. He doesn't UNDERSTAND boundaries."
"I understand boundaries," Jason said, offended. "I choose not to respect them."
"THAT'S WORSE."
"With love."
"LOVE IS NOT A FULL TACKLE."
Of course, Alfred had been observing from the shadows of the cave's staircase. He'd been there for the entire exchange, a silver tray in hand, his expression one of serene patience that somehow made everyone in the room feel slightly foolish.
"Forgive me for interjecting," Alfred said, and the room went quiet with the instinctive respect his presence commanded. He stepped forward, placing the tray on the nearest surface. "Master Salix, if I may—when you say Master Jason has been 'tackling' you, are you referring to the same incidents where you have, in turn, attempted to throw him through walls?"
Salix's mouth opened. Then closed.
"With respect, sir," Alfred continued mildly, "I have video evidence of you attempting to drop Master Jason into the harbour on three separate occasions."
"He started it."
"I am merely noting that the aggression appears to be mutual. And, if I may be so bold, slightly more colorful than the usual familial affection."
Jason grinned. "He started it. I just finish it."
Bruce had been silent through most of this, but his shoulders had relaxed incrementally. He'd deduced what was happening: Jason had found the one vulnerability Salix couldn't defend against. Unexpected physical affection, delivered with relentless enthusiasm, unarmed by genuine intent. And Salix, despite his protests, hadn't actually stopped visiting. Or stopped letting it happen.
"You could just... tell him to stop," Bruce said flatly.
"He WOULDN'T stop," Salix insisted. "I tried. He said, and I quote, 'Make me.'"
"And did you?"
There was a pause.
"...I might have thrown a car at him."
"You threw a car at Jason?"
"In my defense, it was a small car."
"And he responded by..."
"Tackling me. And dragging me by the legs. And tickling me until I called him the superior Robin."
Dead. Silence.
Jason's smile was pure vindication. "He did. It's on video. I have it."
"...I want to see that," Dick said.
"No," Salix and Bruce said simultaneously.
After the initial chaos settled and after Jason had been forcibly restrained by Alfred's pointed look, they relocated to the cave's seating area. Salix sat as far from Jason as possible, which meant next to Bruce, which meant using Bruce as a human barrier. Jason lounged on the opposite couch like a cat who had just caught a particularly satisfying mouse.
Dick was practically vibrating with the need for information. "Okay, start from the beginning. How did this even start?"
Salix sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Six months ago. I visited—normal visit, nothing special. I'd just finished a patrol. I was tired. I was in the cave. And Jason just..."
"Tackled him," Tim supplied helpfully. "We got that part."
"Not just tackled," Salix said, his voice taking on the tone of a man recounting a trauma. "He lunged at me. No warning. No reason. Just—" He gestured vaguely. "—enthusiasm."
"I wanted to say hello," Jason said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. "You were standing there looking like you needed a hug. So I gave you one."
"YOU BROKE MY RIBS."
"They healed."
"That's NOT THE POINT."
Damian, who had been observing with quiet interest, spoke up. "You allowed this to continue for six months. That seems... inconsistent with your reputation."
Salix looked at him with the expression of a man who had been asked to explain the inexplicable. "I didn't allow anything. He just keeps doing it. I've tried everything. I've threatened him. I've thrown things. I've had Bruce talk to him."
"I told him to stop," Bruce confirmed.
"And he said—"
"That I wouldn't do that if I was really family," Jason said cheerfully. "You can't argue with that logic."
"I CAN argue with that logic," Salix said. "I argued with that logic for HOURS."
"And then I proved I could be even more affectionate."
"What does that even MEAN?"
"I started texting you. Constantly."
Salix's eye twitched. "Two hundred messages in one day."
"I wanted to know if you were safe."
"I was in a meeting with the Mayor of Osaka."
"That's what I was worried about. Politicians are dangerous."
"You know I don't know that?"
Barbara, who had been recording the entire conversation on her tablet, looked up. "So let me get this straight. Red Hood's strategy for getting your attention was... aggressive affection."
"It's been effective," Jason said.
"It's been TORTURE."
"You're still here."
Salix opened his mouth. Closed it. There was a long pause.
"That's not... that's not the point..."
"It is, though." Jason's voice had softened slightly. "You could have stopped coming. You could have cut me off. You could have killed me a dozen times over. But you didn't. You keep coming back."
"Because Bruce is here."
"You visit when Bruce is busy. You visit when Bruce isn't even in the city. You visit because I'm here, and you know it."
Salix's face was doing something complicated. It looked like he was processing information he didn't want to process.
Dick, sensing the shift in the conversation, stepped in. "Okay, but the tackling. The dragging by the legs. The tickling. What's the logic there?"
Jason shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "He doesn't know how to accept physical affection. He learned love from gods and monsters. Everything with them is transactional, conditional, or violent. If I'm going to show him I care, I have to do it in a way that fits his language."
"And that language is..." Tim prompted.
"Chaos," Jason said. "Persistence. The kind of affection that doesn't ask permission. He can't escape it, can't deflect it, can't intellectualize it. So he just... has to accept it."
Salix was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "That's..."
"True?" Jason offered.
"...Insightful. And also INFURIATING."
Bruce, who had been silent through most of this, finally spoke. "Why now?"
Everyone turned to look at him.
"Jason, you've known Salix for years," Bruce continued. "Why did this start six months ago?"
There was a pause. Jason's playful demeanor flickered, just for a moment.
"Because he was putting himself back together," Jason said quietly. "After that thing with the cult. After he nearly died. After he came back and pretended everything was fine. He was acting like nothing had happened, like he hadn't almost—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "He was acting like he was fine. And I knew he wasn't."
Salix's expression went still.
"So I figured," Jason continued, forcing his voice back to casual, "if he wasn't going to let anyone in, I'd just... break down the door. Tackle him. Whatever it took. He doesn't get to hide from me. Not anymore."
The cave was silent.
Salix's mismatched eyes were fixed on Jason, and for once, there was no defensiveness in them. Just a raw, open vulnerability that no one in the Batfamily had ever seen on him before.
"Jason..." he started.
"Don't," Jason said, holding up a hand. "You don't have to say anything. Just... let me be here. Let me be annoying. That's all I need."
There was a long pause.
"You're a menace," Salix finally said, his voice hoarse.
"I know."
"I hate you."
"You don't."
"...I don't," Salix admitted, and it sounded like a confession. "That's the problem."
Jason's smile was the softest thing any of them had ever seen on his face. "I know."
The night wore on. Jason eventually retreated to his apartment, but not before tackling Salix one more time: a quick hug that was over before Salix could properly protest. Bruce watched the exchange with an expression that might have been approval, if Bruce were the type to show approval.
The Batfamily filtered out one by one, leaving Salix and Bruce alone in the cave.
"He's good for you," Bruce said quietly.
Salix looked up from where he was sitting, still slightly disheveled from the latest attack. "He's annoying."
"He also made you smile. Real smile. Not the one you use for civilians."
Salix opened his mouth. Closed it.
"He's not wrong, you know," Bruce continued. "About your language. You never learned how to accept kindness without suspicion. Jason bypasses that entirely."
"He just... doesn't stop."
"That's the point." Bruce's voice was flat, but there was something warm underneath it. "He's been dead. He came back and had to learn how to live again. He recognizes the same thing in you."
Salix was quiet for a long moment. Then, almost inaudibly: "I don't know how to be loved."
"You don't have to know. You just have to let it happen."
"And if I can't?"
"Then Jason will keep tackling you until you figure it out." Bruce's lips twitched. "I suspect he's very good at persistence."
Salix laughed.
It was a genuine laugh, startled out of him, the sound of a man who had just realized he was in a situation he couldn't control and had decided, finally, to find it funny.
"He's going to keep doing this, isn't he?"
"I don't think he knows how to stop."
"Great." Salix ran a hand through his hair, but there was no real frustration in it. "I'm going to be dragged around by the legs for the rest of my immortal existence."
"Probably."
"...I should have chosen a different city."
"You'd miss him."
Salix's silence was answer enough.
Two weeks later, at the start of a Batfamily meeting, Tim projected a video onto the main cave screen.
It was Salix, mid-sentence, on a rooftop in Osaka. He was talking to someone off-screen, probably a villain, based on the posturing, when a black blur launched itself from the shadows. The video showed Salix being tackled from behind, legs swept out from under him, and then he was being dragged, dramatically, while he made sounds of protest that were definitely not the sounds of a master vigilante.
"JASON, I SWEAR TO THE GODS—"
"I just want a hug, Sally."
"DO NOT CALL ME SALLY—"
The video was cut off by Salix's own hand in Tim's face.
"Delete that."
"Never."
Bruce, watching from the corner of the cave, had the tiniest smile on his face. It was barely there, easily missed, but unmistakable to anyone who knew what to look for.
Maybe this was exactly what they all needed.
Chaos, persistence, and the kind of love that didn't ask permission.
Salix woke up in his Osaka apartment the morning after, wrapped in blankets and thoroughly disheveled. His phone was buzzing on the nightstand.
Two hundred messages from Jason.
He smiled, despite himself, and started scrolling.
"Good morning, Love."
"Did you sleep well?"
"I'm thinking about you."
"All the time."
"I'm thinking about tackling you."
"I'm thinking about dragging you by the legs."
"I'm thinking about making you laugh."
"I love you, you absolute disaster of a man."
Salix stared at the screen for a long moment. Then he typed back, slowly, carefully:
"I love you too. But if you tackle me again, I'm throwing you into the harbour."
The response came instantly:
"That's the spirit."
Salix laughed, alone in his apartment, and pressed the phone to his chest.
Maybe he didn't know how to be loved. Maybe he never would.
But he was learning.
And he had a feeling Jason would keep teaching him, whether he liked it or not.