Chapter Text
Danny grumbles as something shakes his shoulder. The wispy fragments of his dream are slowly slipping through his fingers, and he fumbles to chase after them.
"—anny!"
He grumbles again. Rolling over and pressing his face more into the cold ground underneath him. Which is kinda weird because his bed feels like it's crafted by the gods themselves. If Danny fell onto the floor then the ground would be at least plush.
"ap… don't— Up."
The voice, whoever it is, sounds like they're talking behind a waterfall. Or, maybe Danny is the one that's underwater and can't hear anything. There's a small bubble of panic and alarm that floats within him that's trying to break past the barrier and get his ass into gear.
But he's so.. tired—
A hard smack against his cheek had his head jerking violently to the side only to crack his cranium against something as equally as hard.
Danny lets out a cry of pain. Quite literally, because the tears come fast.
"Oh shit. I did not mean to hit you that hard," the voice says. The voice that just fucking slapped him.
He blinks through unbidden tears just to see a red mask in his view. There’s a splatter of blood on it.
“You fucking slapped me.” Danny says aghast, a hand over his reddening cheek.
Hood cringes. “Yeah, I know, but I didn’t mean for it to be that hard.”
He blinks. “You slapped me, and..” he trails off as he finally takes stock of where they currently are because surely they’re not at the Wayne manor. They’re currently in.. a room for sure. With bars.
And it smells both musty and moldy. There’s a cot bolted to the floor where another unconscious man lay, padded in highlight yellow kevlar.
Well, they’re not chained or tied, so probably not kidnapped. But if Red Hood’s here then..
“Jail!” Danny gasps. “Ohmygod, you just slapped me, we’re in jail, and you probably gave me a concusion!”
“That is not how you say concussion. Are you really concussed? The Bats are going to have my head — is your head that hard to make a crack?”
Danny has the vague feeling of wanting to throttle Hood. He’s nauseous, very dehydrated, and he feels like Cujo mistook him for a new chew toy. What the fuck.
To make matters worse, he’s not even in his civilian identity.
He’s Phantom .
“A crack?” Not sure how, but Danny can vaguely assume where Hood is staring at behind the mask and— there’s a slight crack in the wall. In horror, he raises a hand to where his forehead decided to make good friends with a concrete wall.
Jason makes a noise that sounds like a demon cat with its tail trapped in a garbage disposal with the way his voice modulator crackles. “Don’t cry. Uh— it shouldn’t be that bad. You got a healing factor, so it should be gone in some minutes.”
“I’m in jail!” Danny cries, and it’s definitely confirmed that he cries ectoplasm in his Phantom form. “With fucking Red Hood!”
“Hey—”
“And slapped me and gave me a concussion!”
“Holy shit, you slapped, concussed, and made Phantom cry?”
Hood flinches, whirling to the bright once unconscious dude. “How long have you been awake?”
Signal grunts, rolling onto his back to stare disconnectly at the ceiling. “Since Phantom started crying. My Phantom senses were tingling and that was apparently enough to wake me from Dreamland.”
Now, they’re sitting in a circle, Danny still glaring at Jason (still sniffling but has stopped crying), Duke who looks like he’s waiting for the roof to come crashing down, and Jason seems slightly bored of the whole ordeal.
Jason sighs. “Look. It’s not a big deal. I’ve woken up in jail not remembering anything countless times.”
“That’s you , Hood. Besides,” Duke waves a hand at Jason’s overall person. “You’re Hood.”
Danny can’t see it. But he knows Jason is frowning.
“ Us , on the other hand,” Duke points between him and Danny. “Good. Law—abiding,” both Jason and Danny echoes an ehhh , “vigilantes who only maybe break the law once or thrice for the greater good. We don’t end up in jail.”
Danny nods. “Yeah! I’m not even sure why I’m here! I’m dead!” At least that’s what the public thinks. “And.. I feel sore, or wrung out, like I went a little too far in patrolling or fighting. But I don’t remember fighting anything. ” But beyond the soreness, there’s an achy, sorta itchy feeling flowing through his body.
He can feel the ectoplasm cycling through his body so at least his healing factor is up to par.
“Yeah, I feel like shit too.” Duke agrees, and after a beat so does Jason.
Danny groans and lies on the floor. “I want some donuts. Or, waffles. Chocolate chip waffles.”
Duke pats his ankle. “We’ll get you some bud. With Hood’s credit card.”
“Wha—” Jason starts to protest.
“I mean, you did concuss him.” Duke shrugs.
Danny sniffles pitifully. Actually, he doesn’t feel concussed, but honestly he’s just really pissed that he ended up in jail. Jail. As Phantom! A ghost! And if there’s anything to go by, it’s more than likely Jason’s fault.
He wants to go to Waffle House. Will he end up seeing a bunch of workers beat a bunch of armed robbers again? Probably. Will he jump in to help..? Eh, they seem like they got it.
He just really wants some Waffles. Ancients, he would actually maim, critically injure someone for Alfred’s waffles—
Danny jackknifes to his feet, scaring both of his brothers. “ B!!” He screams.
“Oh.” Duke stares off into the distance, as if he’s suddenly gained x—ray vision and can see past the cement gray walls. “He’s going to kill us. First, Hood, then me, and maybe Danny could get away.” He turns to his ghostly younger (?) brother. “Fly far, far away in that freaky Ghost Zone of yours.”
Jason snorts a laugh, currently relaxing on the cot. “Oh please. He probably knew by the time we were in that police carrier. The whole family has to know by now.”
Danny knows that he doesn’t need to breathe in this form, but he can’t help but to do so as he rests his forehead against cold metal bars, counting to ten. “How come they haven’t gotten us yet..?” And— Danny doesn’t whine , but it’s a near thing.
Dick.. Well, Dick would be here by now. Tim. Steph would be here too even though she’d be doubled over laughing to really do anything. Cass.. cass would definitely help them out!
Especially with Danny trapped behind bars. He’s her favorite brother!
If someone doesn’t come in the next minute, Danny will currently put his mood from ‘ thinking about jail break’ to ‘attempting jailbreak’ .
“Yeah, about that..” drawls Jason. “I kinda, most definitely, used our phone call.”
“What?!”
Danny attacks Jason with a war cry.
One hole in the wall later, a dent in the bars, and Duke already supporting a nasty bruise on his cheek, they finally manage to corral themselves into (slightly) modest prisoners.
Oh, how far the famed has fallen.
Danny thinks that’s the quote.
“It’s not, Ghostboy.”
“Fuc—”
“ Guys.” Duke says in his very authoritative I am Signal voice. He then pinches the space between his brows. A very Bruce—like manner.
Danny shuffles from where sits, legs tucked underneath him as he bows his head slightly. “Sorry, Signal.”
He feels bad. If he knew that Duke was behind him when he went intangible to avoid Jason’s punch then he might have taken the hit. He’s already starting to feel better, (he knows Jason is too, with being a Halfa and all that), but Duke’s healing factor doesn’t work as fast like theirs does.
Danny digs his elbow in Jason's padded side.
The man grumbles something underneath his breath. “Yeah.. sorry.”
“And?” Danny presses.
Jason makes a small prayer to the gods that only smiles at his misfortune. “Sorry for hitting you and giving you a concussion.”
Danny gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “Oh em gee, I think I’m all magically healed now. I love my brothers.”
Duke, who’s been very silent, starts slowly clapping. Both him and Jason exchange odd looks. Maybe that punch gave Duke the real concussion. “Wow,” he says, amazed. “I’ve never seen two people get off-task and side-tracked so easily like you two. Even when Red Robin and Nightwing exist.”
Jason scoffs. “We were apologizing! For hitting you.”
“Speak for yourself, there’s no we in this. You hit him. Your crummy leather kevlar DNA is all over his cheek.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t dodge like a pussy , he wouldn’t have—”
Duke clears his throat. Danny can see the way his mask moves as he raises a brow.
“Wow,” he scratches the back of his neck. “That’s real bad.”
Duke breathes through his nose before sighing out his mouth, placing a hand on his ghost brother's shoulder. “Yeah, it is.” He says with complete and utter feeling.
“ A-n-yways. Hood. Who did you call? If the rest of the Birds and Bats aren’t here?”
Jason shifts where he sits as well. “Y’know. Red.”
“Robin?” Both Duke and Danny chorus with a synchronized head tilt.
Jason doesn’t say anything and sits there while the two of them turn over people with Red in their names. Because, yeah, why would Jason call Tim? Duke or Danny would have if a Big Bertha didn’t use their single phone call.
Danny gets it first, shoulders slumping. “Oh no.”
“Gods,” Duke agrees, plopping down on his ass, and tossing his head back with a groan.
It’s at that moment a officer (the first Danny has seen since he’s woken up) looks at the dent in the bars, the hole and cracks, sighing. Asking God, why did he decide to become a police officer and Gotham of all things.
“Look alive, you’re being bailed out.”
Roy. Fucking Harper.
He’s chatting it up with the woman behind the counter when his eyes flicker over to the three zombie shuffling vigilantes. He does a double take before laughing.
“Holy shit. You guys look dead on your feet.”
“I’m dead, dickwad,” Danny says, brushing past the man and slumping into one of the seats.
“I died, dickface.” Jason says standing next to the newest addition to their messed up vigilante group. They’re probably going to bribe their way to get the charges dropped, or wiped off the record.
Huh. Speaking of which, isn’t O listening to this entire conversation? Danny buries his face and groans.
Roy shakes his head. “Yeah, well, it’s a miracle but you look worse than death.” His fingers drum across the countertop. “Speaking of which, you guys sure did a number on Gotham!”
“Did we kill someone?!” Duke exclaims, looking more alive, but one of the officers chokes on a laugh watching the color drain from his face.
“Uh.” Roy starts. “Don’t think s—”
Danny never gets to hear the rest when Duke all but drags him out the chair and out to the Gotham Night.
“I’m going to run away.”
There’s a hole in a billboard. A giant hole in a billboard, as if Superman had got a little too heated. Another billboard is hanging off by the hinges. Another billboard crashed down on the ground.
There’s craters in the ground, a car smashed into a tree. Both him and his brethren watch a wheel fall off and roll down the street in a steady line.
Two dumpsters pushed together to create a giant, but controlled, dumpster fire.
“Going to hide in the realm and finally live up to being a King. I’ll stay there for centuries. Millenniums. ”
Danny knows it’s futile. There’s nowhere he can go where B won’t find him and track him down. It’s the thought that counts right? Right? They’re so screwed. Like royally, and he’s royalty for Ancients sakes!
Duke sags against Danny. “I can do you one better. I’ll just throw myself off the Wayne building.”
“Mood.” Jason whistles at the damage, a hand on his hips.
Danny palms his forehead, also leaning his weight on his brother. “I don’t— how could I not remember anything? Seriously, it looks like me and skulker decided to have a brawl in Gotham. How did we destroy three billboards??”
For a long second. Minute. Hour. They just watch the aftermath of whatever the fuck happened burn around them. Batman, no, Bruce , is going to ground them both in their civilian and vigilante identities. They’ll never be let outside the house again.
“Hey,” Duke says after a while. “Where’s Roy?”
Jason’s shoulders sag from where they’re crossed. “Don’t worry about it. He was just plot convenience.”
He sniffs. “Oh.”
“I’m hungry.” Because, yeah, Danny has an appetite even now.
There’s only one good haven in this twisted and cruel world. A constant in every universe. A place where the rogues of rouges go. Knuck if you buck, as they say.
Waffle House. The Great and Glorious.
The place that will house three beat up vigilantes.
They walk in, all but leaning on each other, and collapse into a booth. Danny and Duke pressed up against each other and Jason by himself since he’s too big for either of them to relax comfortably.
They aren’t the only ones there either. A couple of stragglers. A shady man in a trenchcoat. A student who looks like they’re fossilized in their seat.. And a family. Not them. But another. Father, Mother, two daughters and a son.
Normally, it would be beyond suspicious in any other places, but that’s the great thing about Waffle House.
It does not care. You can brawl however you like, be as suspicious as you like, or be a family of five, or three, and look like you’ve gone head to head with a bull. It doesn’t care, it just welcomes you with its peeling leather boots. Flickering piss yellow fluorescent lights, missing tiles, vaguely smelling of weed.
Danny’s head rests on the back of the booth. “Feels like home.” He sighs, hungry and tired. This night has been a Night. And Danny has had many Nights, but this definitely takes the cake.
“Man, fuck running away for a couple centuries, I could sleep for some centuries.” Duke says, plastered all over the table, the side of his face pressed into the cool wood.
“Preach,” Danny mutters.
“Pretty sure that’s a coma.”
In odd synchronicity, the two young boys shrug. “That’s the point.”
“Uhm,” says a guy with piss blonde hair in a ridiculous coife. He stares at them with a pen and pad, eyes flickering between the three of them but Danny can sense the overwhelming urge of the self-preservation to not give a fuck, and that’s exactly what he does. “Are you guys ready to order?”
“Alcohol.” Jason blurts out, hands fiddling with the latches of his helmet. The waiter doesn't even blink at the series of hisses and Jason sighs when the helmet is tucked underneath his arm.
At least he's wearing his domino mask.
"Yeah. We don't do alcohol here."
"Hng." A beat. "Do you guys have red bull?"
The waiter blinks. "Kinda."
"Great," Jason smiles but it's not friendly and full of teeth. "Y'know the water that you put in for coffee? Yeah, that but with the red bull. Monster if you have some."
"You're an abomination." Danny says.
"You can't be talking. Besides, there's Timbo."
Eh, he got a point.
"Coffee." Duke grunts. "As dark as my soul.."
The waiter clicks his pen a few times, writing down their orders. "But.. you are the daylight hero. So how dark would that be?"
"Doesn't matter. At this point give me straight coffee beans."
The guy just nods his head. Probably totally checked out. If Danny was in his position he would think this whole interaction is simply a hallucination from working a customer service job in Gotham. At night.
His blue eyes shift over to Danny. He doesn’t even need to open his mouth. "Chocolate Chip waffles. And coffee. And hot chocolate. And make them really sweet with a bunch of cream and sugar."
"Right," pen scratches across paper. "Is that all?"
"Yes," they chorus.
Danny doesn’t break down sobbing, tearing his hair out, gripping the walls, or hanging from the ceiling as he demolishes his long awaited waffles. It’s a very near thing though.
The sun is slowly starting to come up, which is fun. Duke has his head down, nursing his pitch black sludge of coffee in his hands, and Jason stares longingly out the window smoking. Any energy has left the three vigilantes and if they weren’t tired before now they are.
“This is ridiculous,” comes Duke's muffled voice. “It hurts to close my eyes but it hurts worse to have them open.”
“That’s why you learn to sleep with your eyes open,” Danny says around a mouthful of syrup-drenched and whip cream waffles.
Duke makes a noise. “Fuck you..”
Suddenly, there’s a vibrating sensation coming from his chest. It gives him a pause, because it certainly isn’t his core, so what exactly..?
His fork clatters to the plate.
“Oh shit.”
“What?” Jason says leaning forward, putting out his cigarette in his coffee.
Danny fishes through his chest, pulling out his vibrating phone.
Caller ID: B-dawg.
Duke lifts his head up just in time, squints, and groans. “Please, strike me now.”
Danny answers the call and puts it up to his ear. “Oh em gee! B! B-man! B-dawg! B-bro. B-dude-”
“ Danny .”
The halfa wisely shuts his mouth. Jason is full on laughing only to stop short when Duke kicks him in the shins. Which results in footsies. Danny turns his lower half intangible.
“ Are you with anyone right now? ”
And he has to take a second to think about the question. Well, he’s in a Waffle House, but everyone seems content to not look at the disturbing kevlar padded people in the corner.
“Uhh, just with the bros. Hood and Signal. Having a grand ol’ time in Waffle House.”
He can practically see the frown lines or the slightest wrinkle of Bruce’s nose. As much as the man tries not to seem proper and uptight when it comes to restaurants or foods (something he’s been working on when Jason had a love for street food, food trucks, vendors, the whole shebang) but Bruce simply couldn’t fuck with Waffle House.
He tries, but the distaste is still there.
It’s probably why Danny suggests it everytime. He for real doesn’t like Waffle House like that.
“ I see... Are you guys hurt?”
Danny stabs a forkful of too sweet waffles and chews. “Nothing but our pride and dignity.”
“Speak for yourself, Ghost Boy.” Jason grunts, having gone from footsies with Duke to throwing anything he could at the other.
Danny narrows his eyes. “You don’t have any pride, Hood.”
“Or dignity— ow! You fucker!” Duke reels after having a pepper shaker bounce right off his forehead.
However, he’s quick to get his lick back and throws a salt shaker right at Jason. Hitting him square in the nose. The male howls and cups his nose, there’s already blood dripping onto the table.
Before the two of them could get up and start scrapping in the restaurant, Danny screams for their attention. “ Bro! B says if you guys cause any more property damage, you’re stuck helping Alfred with chores for two months,” he pauses. “No, three months. ”
Duke and Jason promptly sits their asses down, whistling softly.
Danny nods, with a slight huff. “Boys will be boys. What can you do? So, as I was saying your son fucking concussed me—”
“Alrightie, B-man, we’ll see you when we get home. Love you!”
Danny doesn’t hear the response as he immediately hangs up, sitting back in the booth with a sigh. His plate of waffles cleared. Not a smudge or smear of chocolate, it was like he didn’t have a monstrosity of whip cream and syrup on his plate.
“We’re not going home.” Jason, Danny, and Duke speak at the same time.
Home simply isn’t an option. Not when Danny just wants to collapse and never move again.
( That is still a coma.) Thanks Jason, but he doesn’t care.
In the end, the three of them end up going to one of Jason’s many safehouses. The relatively clean one since Duke started having sensory issues and they had to leave Waffle House as the smell of pirate STDs was becoming a little too strong for his senses.
Danny finally lets go of his Phantom form and the feeling of being sorta human could bring him to tears once more. It was like being in some sort of mascot suit for too long and finally taking it off.
“Is this Dick’s hoodie?” he sniffs the sleeves.
“No,” Jason denies. “Yes.” replies traitours Duke.
Duke flops on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee stand, nursing an ice pack against the bruise on his cheek from the punch back in jail.
“Can’t believe you attacked your brothers. You’re younger brothers! I thought I was your favorite!” Danny flops next to Duke, pretty much sitting on the dude but Duke is far too exhausted to even bother and say anything. Besides, the weight is comforting, and he’s one of the few that doesn’t mind Danny’s cold skin pressing up against them.
Jason sits on the arm of the couch with a canned beer in hand. “You think you’re everyone’s favorite something and I would say I hate to burst your bubble — but I don’t, you’re not everyone’s favorite anything. (serious dick syndorome) Besides, I don’t have a favorite, you’re all insufferably annoying.”
Danny looks at him with water in his eyes. “What happened to my loveable grandson, slash, brother, whom I saved multiple times.” He sniffles.
Duke flips through the Tv channels. “That’s the other fic.”
“Oh.” Tears are dried instantly. “You’re just a bitch.”
“Ya mama,” Jason says without missing a beat.
“ Your mama,” Danny replies just as instantaneously. “Your mom sold you for a quick buck!”
“Your parents dissected you!”
“ Okayy? At least I didn’t get killed by a clown. ”
“I wasn’t killed by the fucking clown I was blown —”
“And? At least my father didn’t let the clown run around.”
“Your father was in your guts—”
“Gross.” Duke says, putting on the news channel. “And major pause.”
“—and got oneshotted by electricity.”
“I’m done talking to you Big Bertha.”
“Big Bertha?! Do you see how much you eat?? You—”
Duke turns the news up louder.