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The deadbolt clicked, which would have been problematic enough. Given that the safehouse he was squatting in wasn’t his, it was even worse.
Jason lunged off the couch where he had been sprawled, ignoring the way his ribs absolutely screamed at him and just managed to crash into the side table as the traps began to disengage way too fast. He rather ungracefully shoved the helmet onto his head, would hate how his bangs had ended up edging his vision, and then spun as the door swung open, cursing that he’d shed pieces of his uniform all across the safehouse from the bedroom window he’d used to get in.
Nightwing, in full skin tight glory, stood in the door frame, the white of his domino lenses staring at him. Just faintly he could see the pupils under trace up, and down, Red Hood’s very clearly underprepared outfit. The sweats were downright comfortable okay… even if they featured hot wheels tires lit in flames on them and his shirt was a loose and clearly time worn exceedingly clashing color. He’d expected to be alone . Dick never used this safehouse.
The very much a threat in his full armor and weapons setup vigilante stepped fully into the room, hooking the edge of the door with his foot and shutting it soundlessly behind him. “Are you planning to pick a fight?”
Hood opened and closed his mouth several times, clenching his fists. “If I say no…” He wouldn’t win. He most definitely wouldn’t win right now. First and foremost he was here for a reason . It made him feel helpless, the green hissing but… but this was Dick . The original. The golden child. The protege. Jason was already injured from two major fights back to back, Sionus had managed to get one of his guys into Red Hood’s circle, and the bats had been annoyingly efficient in getting in the way, plus the fact that there had been an Arkham breakout which meant any sensible person was laying low anyway and business tonight was dead unless they wanted to use the chaos. They had all also been fairly brutal in any given fight the last several times since he’d shot at and nearly clipped Robin. A warning shot really, but one that was geared to go right through the cape.
“Good.” The steel bled out of Nightwing’s tone, his movements borderline stiff as strode past where Red Hood had frozen. “I’m taking a shower.”
Under the helmet he continued to gape like a fish, rapidly running through what the hell kind of trap this was. The bathroom door clicked shut and for a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then the shower turning on.
Dick was really… he…
What. The. Fuck.
Dick should have no idea who he was. He should in no way shape or form be relaxed around an up and coming crime lord who had made his debut via severed heads and who made it very clear he had a bone to pick with the furry brigade.
The smart thing to do would be to take his extreme luck, gather up all his stuff, and flee. Because he had never been the smartest of the batch, he gathered up his stuff, wrapped most of it in his jacket, and placed the jacket to make a quick break for it. Then, if only to find out why the hell Dick was being so weird , he edged to the door.
“If you come through that door, you lose an eye.” The sound was slightly muffled, the tone of the water shifting and changing regularly.
“I’m wearing a helmet, dumbass.”
“How willing are you to test it?”
Not… not that willing. The lenses were the weak point and he knew Dick’s aim. Dick was also very clearly in a mood . “Who the hell shoved a bee up your ass?”
For a long moment there was only the sound of running water. Then, almost soft . “Go away, Hood.”
Fucking golden boy, still telling him what to do. He was flinging open the green tinged door before he could really register why that was probably a bad idea. Fortunately, dodging child assassins who thought getting the jump on him was fun meant that his instincts were a little faster than his pit filled mind.
“Son of a bitch .” The wingding buried all the way up to the wing in the far wall, clipping the edge of the helmet closely enough that Jason reached up to feel if the mark was a distinct scratch or if it could be buffed out.
The water shut off, cloth rustling for a few moments. When an angry bat didn’t follow, Red Hood risked a glance in the mirror into the room. Nightwing was… towel drying his hair, his legs clad still in the underlayer of his suit which was dripping wet.
“Now can I look, princess?” The angle wasn’t great but clearly something was wrong… there should have been more . He was in Dick’s safehouse! He was their enemy . The last time him and Nightwing were in the same space Nightwing had been hellbent on removing his helmet via brute force escrima stick and now…
“Whatever.”
He kept most of his body hidden enough until he was fairly sure there wouldn’t be any more gouges left in his helmet or less durable sections of his body. There, he folded his arms and scanned the man currently seated on the side of the bathtub, shirtless, with the domino still over his eyes. “Alright, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Why are you still here?”
The man didn’t look injured. Not any more than Hood would expect anyway. There were older bruises mottling the skin, Jason able to remember the cause of a few of them though others were a bit unfamiliar. A few bandages sat on the counter that needed to be redone but those seemed minor at best.
“I was here first.”
Nightwing stared at him. Then he shook his head, and rose. With smooth practiced movements he retrieved the first aid kit and began reapplying here and there. Hood watched, his arms folded and his entire body stiff because… what the hell was this?
“Who escaped tonight?”
It was met with no answer, Dick just rolling up one pant sleeve to apply bruise cream to a pretty patch on his calf with mechanical motions.
“Too calm to be Joker Venom. If it was Ivy you’d have stayed with the rest of the ba-”
“If I tell you, will you shut up?” Hood felt a touch of the tension ease out. There was no bite to the words. In fact, they were downright flat but… it was a response.
“Maybe.”
“It’s been a rough night. That’s all.”
“Yeah see… that’s not enough. There’s no way a “rough night” has you this… whatever this is.”
Dick snorted, rising. Hood moved out of his way, following to the second bedroom that was set up as a kind of in home studio. Jason recognized the warm up and stretching routine, though clearly Dick was only going through the motions.
He was about halfway through when he let his shoulders and, in fact, entire frame drop. “Look… this week sucks for me okay. This week in particular has a lot of anniversaries of a lot of shity things and instead of everyone just leaving me alone , everyone has to dig into it or tell me to get over it or expects me to smile and be my usual self and be effective and get shit done and I just… I’m done, okay.”
“Wow… I think that’s the most emotion I’ve seen all night.”
Dick lifted his gaze for a moment, staring levelly at Hood before he turned around to continue the routine.
Hood plopped down on a stack of folded mats. “So what counts as a ‘shitty thing’ to the great Nightwing , the protege son of Batman himself?”
“Why do you care?”
“Blackmail? Weaknesses? If something can reduce the usual ya know… you … to this I definitely want to know about it.” The words didn’t quite feel right coming out of his mouth, turned into a mechanical drawl by his helmet. He couldn’t… he had to know.
“I think the lens footage of your current outfit renders anything you might gain tonight useless.”
“We’ll see about that. Now spill, pretty boy.”
Dick folded himself in half, Hood not sure if the deep breath was part of the stretch or a sigh. “Fine. Why not? Just half of the most painful moments of my life spilled out. Shall we start from the least then?”
Hood made a ‘get on with it’ motion while Dick switched to another pose. “Two days ago marks when I made one of the worst mistakes of my life by not realizing that Mirage had disguised herself as Starfire until she revealed herself, Star accused me of cheating, and the rest of the team called me slut, whore, and a few other choice names. Oh, and asked who was better. That happened. That was great.”
Jason stared at the broad back of his brother. He… that didn’t make sense. That… There were so many things wrong with all of that. He… the green was surging through his veins and it was definitely going to go somewhere but… he needed to piece together the image first and to do that he needed information and where to start and… “Hold up, I thought you were starting with the least of what’s causing this whole… mood.”
The smile Dick gave him was all bared teeth. “That is.”
Jason swallowed though it didn’t help his suddenly dry mouth or the lump that was either in his throat or his chest or both. For a moment he closed his eyes, breathing very slowly. That… “This Mirage… looked like Starfire?”
“Yup.”
“She tricked you into thinking she was Starfire?”
“Hook, line, and sinker.”
“And you treated her like Starfire?” ‘accused me of cheating’, ‘slut’, ‘whore’ “Oh fuck… she had sex with you…”
“Yes, I thought that was rather obvious.”
“You thought she was Starfire… and let your guard down because Starfire was your girlfriend and she… They fucking blamed you !?”
Dick just stared at him mildly. “I was the one who didn’t realize.”
“Absolutely not ! Fuck that.” Jason didn’t even know when he had gotten to his feet, his hands clenched because Dick had… they had… He was going to murder the other Titans. Maybe kneecap them first, make them beg for forgiveness and crawl on broken bodies to the man they had betrayed who would forgive them because he was a fucking soft hearted dumbass. He pointed a finger right at Dick who just watched him back. “She raped you and you are in no way responsible for letting your guard down for the love of your life only to have her fucking stab you in the back.”
Dick just tilted his head. “It wasn’t really… I mean it was Tarantula who I actually said no to who sti-” Something flashed across his face, his jaw flexing and Jason saw green . Whoever that bitch was… he would kill her as slowly as possible. “Whatever, it’s in the past.”
“It is not-” Jason cut himself off, taking several grounding breaths. “You said that was the least . What the fuck else could be worse?”
Dick shrugged. “Deathstroke setting a trap and infecting all of my friends with nanotech that would kill them slowly and painfully unless I agreed to be his apprentice and commit crimes for him.”
Jason scrubbed his hands down the helmet. “Fffuuuuck.”
There was a faint twitch of Dick’s lips. “That one is tied in ranking with Blockbuster finding out my civilian identity and blowing up my apartment complex with everyone in it.”
“And somehow you still aren’t done…”
“Oh no, not at all, but that’s the energy I have even from you being annoying so unless you want a flash of not only my mind and soul but the full goods too, you’d best leave me to change.”
Hood had no interest in that. He turned on his heel and went straight for the kitchen to… to do something. Those were the least ? Dick had been… had been… and that was the least ? The other things too and just…
For a long time Jason stood with his head bowed and hands braced on the countertop. He might be revising his plans about Titans Tower. He might have other targets besides the Replacement if they couldn’t even… if they blamed Dick. Sure, Dick wasn’t the saint everyone always painted him out to be but to do that to him…
Eventually, Jason couldn’t hear any movement, and the lights had turned off. Okay… he… he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do. He couldn’t just… Dick had always been a tactile person but was that ruined now? Did he… He was alone , or he was supposed to be? No… not ‘supposed to be’... Did he want to be alone?
Yeah, fuck that. His older brother would not be dealing with this shitshow alone, not this time. Jason stalked to the bedroom, fairly throwing open the door.
Nightwing was lying on his side, back facing the world and the comforter pulled up. His only acknowledgement of Hood was a full body sigh.
“What’s the worst?”
“Hood…”
“You told me the least. Tell me the worst now and then I’ll stop asking.”
“My brother’s death.”
Jason… Jason wasn’t ready for that to be the answer. Dick thought… thought his death was the worst ? Above… above even the other things he mentioned?
It caught up a few moments later, green surging through his veins that… Dick was a fucking liar . “It isn’t that anniversary. The second Robin died months before this week.” He would fucking know .
Dick gave a bitter laugh. “That’s the worst part of it isn’t it? I consider it to be this week because this week is when anyone bothered to tell me .” He gave a sort of laugh and huff, neither of which sounded entirely on the hinges. “God… I just thought he was mad that I hadn’t answered his call. I thought… I was mad that he didn’t visit when I came back injured but he was… he was…”
Fuck… he’d broken whatever Dick’s mood was and made the man cry.
Dick was crying because he was mourning his brother…
His brother who no one had told him was dead. His brother whose funeral he hadn’t gone to because he didn’t know , because he had apparently been severely injured…
He’d had to work with Batman tonight. Batman… who hadn’t told him.
“Keep the lights off…”
“W-what?”
Jason reached up, unlatching the helmet. It was dark enough that it should be fine. Plus, it wasn’t like it would matter if he was wearing a domino or not when it came to Dick. Dragging it off, he plunked it on the side table.
Hood made sure the bed sank as he sat on it, making all of his motions known as he stretched out.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dick twisted, which was unfortunate because it meant he drove an elbow directly into Jason’s side. He grunted, reaching back to turn Dick so they were back to back, pressed shoulder to tailbone.
“Guard duty. No one else bothers you until you say so. I’m definitely in the mood to shoot a bat or a titan.”
“Why the-!?”
“I do it for the girls all the time. Just… just take it.”
“You’re really going to just…”
“Absolutely.”
“Why do you care?”
He snorted. “You’ve read the reports of what I do to rapists. Ever read the reports of how I comfort the victims?”
For a long moment there was silence. Then, deliberately calm. “Not Robin.”
Jason frowned, shifting slightly. He could just catch the edge of Dick still wearing the domino. “What?”
“If Robin comes in… don’t shoot him.”
Jason grimaced. “I can’t make that promise.”
“Robin is a kid. None of this is his fault.”
“Oh, that’s true. It’s Batman’s fault but he still put on the suit.”
“Because I refused.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“After… after J- the second Robin d-” Dick made a strangled noise. “I can’t right now…”
Jason wanted to push. The green pulsed, saying he deserved to know. He grimaced and swallowed it down though he was sure he was stiff and openly seething. “We’ll come back to that.”
“Just… promise not to shoot him.”
“ Fine . I won’t hurt the kid if he comes in tonight. No promises in the morning though. My issue with Robin is personal .”
Dick was silent for a long moment, then he all but collapsed. “Okay.”
“Go to sleep, or cry, or scream. Do whatever you need. I won’t say a word after.”
Dick shifted, Jason laying perfectly still. “ Fuck …” A few other curses followed, low enough that Jason wasn’t even sure that they were in a language he understood. Then, Dick twisted, wrapping his hands into the back of Jason’s shirt. “Fuck!” More curses were muffled into Jason’s back, the man ignoring the shivering and hitching and eventually the wet patch he could feel growing.
He forced himself to lie still through it, glaring at the door and letting the green hiss and come up with what he was going to do to everyone who caused the perfectly put together golden boy to shatter. Eventually, the form behind him stilled, going lax and Jason let his eyes close though he continued the steady meditative breathing and he focused on his own thoughts.
They had moved at some point in the night. The person he really should have been more concerned about had rolled onto his stomach.
Red Hood. The crime lord had apparently been squatting in his apartment during an Arkham Breakout, probably hiding or relaxing or… well Nightwing certainly wouldn’t expect anyone to be brazen enough to stage an ambush in pajama pants and actually think they could win against him in full suit.
Maybe Kori, once upon a time. Maybe his own teammates.
His teammates that Red Hood apparently now wanted to shoot.
He really shouldn’t have such mixed feelings about that. Red Hood was a crime lord, a murderer, and had made it blatantly clear that he hated the bats.
Red Hood had heard a weak account brought on by him burying his emotions a little too effectively and had immediately gone into protection mode. Comfort mode. He hadn’t called Nightwing names. He hadn’t asked disgusting questions like who was better. He’d stood guard, admittedly against nothing, and let Nightwing finally… finally… because at the end of the day, it wasn’t like he cared what Red Hood thought of him. He didn’t have to be the perfect son, or the perfect hero, or the perfect leader in front of the man and if Hood chose to use it against him well… Nightwing was happy to let a little more of his anger out than usual too.
Red Hood truly hadn’t said a word, and had stayed through the entire night though clearly he wasn’t so much on guard currently.
Dick determined that he’d had plenty of emotions last night. He didn’t have the energy to keep dealing with them tearing him apart… especially when he was half sprawled onto the back of the slumbering mountain of a man. Soft black hair was brushing Dick’s cheek, and he could feel both the soft material of sweats and defined muscle under where his leg was effectively wrapped around Hood’s leg.
Hood was dead asleep, even as Dick cracked open an eye to consider why he was awake. His entire body ached from the fights he’d been in the night before. His head was throbbing from who knew what reason. There wasn’t a prickle on the back of his neck from being watched though and as he tiredly scanned the room, there was no indication of anyone catching the pair of them in a downright questionable situation.
Really the only thing of significant note was the distinct red helmet sitting on the dresser. Which Dick could see because of the light filtering in through the haphazardly pulled blackout curtains.
Oh goodie. Daylight. He groaned, leaning more on Hood so he could reach for the nightstand. Under him Hood shifted though he certainly didn’t sound awake. “G’ back ta sleep.”
Well didn’t that just send a pang of painful memory through Dick’s mind. He gave in to the urge to go boneless as soon as he had his phone in his grasp. “Gotta check in before they send a search party.” He didn’t sound any better, Dick wincing at the croaking.
Hood snorted. “Can’t leave people well enough alone.” Dick was close enough to hear Hood’s jaw pop as he yawned, the shoulders he was laying his head on flexing. “You should call off work too, just sleep in. They can all fuck off…” For a moment there was grumbling while Dick snorted.
“No can do.”
“Why not? It’s not like you’re strapped for cash and why the hell is there a light-” Hood shifted, his head turned away and Dick catching just a glimpse of a tuft of white hair before every inch of Hood went stiff. “Fuck.” Several more curses followed, Hood burying his head in his arms. “Fffuuuuuccccckkkk.”
Dick honestly wasn’t that surprised that Hood could make a sound like that. That didn’t mean he didn’t wish he had been recording for it. Instead he rolled onto his back so Hood could shuffle a bit and bury his head under at least a pillow and a half. “Thanks… I guess.”
Dick finished sending off the morning check-in, noted that Bruce wanted everyone gathered again to go over mistakes made, and decided that Hood was correct, he should take off work. It would probably get him in trouble but honestly, if he went in, if he had to smile and pretend everything was fine…
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Not like I did anything.”
“You didn’t look.”
Dick blinked, glancing to the side with a slight twist to his lips. “That’s pretty confident.” Hood huffed, settling with his arms clasping the pillows over his head.
After a little bit of silence, he shifted to throw one leg over Hood’s back, bringing the phone to his ear. Better to get this done when he still sounded like shit. He could even play it up pretty easy. “Hey, it’s me.” - “Yeah, I know I don’t come on shift for two hours. I’m not gonna- I’m aware.” - “Yeah, yeah…” - “Got caught up in everything last- yes I was in Gotham.” The ongoing questioning of his ‘loyalty’ to Bludhaven was an annoyance. Still, he could… His eyes slid to the side, to Red Hood as he considered… “Yes, I’ll reflect on that.”
The line clicked off, Dick tossing the phone with a bit of a groan. “Wow… they really are gonna ding you. Bunch of bastards.”
“Yup.” He closed his eyes, debating on if he could pull off just going back to sleep. Unfortunately, the answer was probably not. “Hey… you’ve trained extensively right? Probably traveled the world.”
The muscles under his calf tensed, Hood’s voice measured. “What of it?”
“Why set up shop in Gotham? Why not somewhere without us capes around?”
“Gotham’s my home. I was born in Crime Alley, grew up there for a while.”
Dick nodded slightly. He supposed Hood, without the modulator, did have a Crime Alley accent. “You still have family here?”
“They’re a bunch of shitbirds. Only thing we do is scream at each other.”
“I feel that.”
For some reason Hood found that funny, his shoulders shaking with almost silent laughter.
He needed to get up… if only to go to the bathroom, check a few bandages, reapply the mask he could feel peeling at the edges from being slept in, and get a drink and his list was getting annoyingly long. He groaned, and rolled standing to a wheeze from Red Hood as Dick’s weight passed over him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Bathroom, kitchen.”
“I’m taking all the covers.”
Dick had no idea if Hood had shifted enough to see him wave his hand as he closed the door.
Fortunately, Dick was able to achieve what he was pretty sure was his full list in a nice quick amount of time. He went through his usual morning hygiene routine, checked over his assorted injuries, acquired himself things to drink and dropped off a water on the nightstand for Hood who grumbled a thanks, took a painkiller or two and then determined he was going back to bed. He could do full stretching and whatever later .
For now, he pulled the blackout curtains closed correctly and collapsed back onto the bed. Red Hood had to have been built of solid muscle since Dick’s full weight didn’t even budge him where remained sprawled and potentially dozing.
Scratch that, he was absolutely asleep by how he completely tensed the moment Dick touched him and then after the initial surprise went lax. “Warn a guy…”
Dick hummed at the grumble, throwing his leg over Hood’s calf. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“Good. S’way too early.”
“Are you staying?”
“Are you throwing me out?”
“No.” Dick considered for a moment before he shrugged, really nothing had changed. “It’s… nice, having someone else here.” Someone who didn’t have expectations of him… or rather who did and who was very concerned that they were seeing behind the curtain. Concerned in a way that they were trying to help, sort of, that was Dick’s interpretation anyway.
Hood snorted. “Whatever you say, Dick.”
Hood must have noticed how still Dick went, the man shifted slightly. “What got up your ass?”
“What did you say?”
“Fuck if I know, too tired for this shit.”
“No, no, no… you called me Dick.” All of those emotions that were nice and put away were spilling out as the lead box that contained them dropped straight through his heart, stomach, and somewhere far away. Shit, shit… oh this little asshole .
Hood tilted his head, “I mean, you are one.”
“You think I don’t know the difference when someone uses it as an insult and a name? Seriously!” Oh, there was the comforting temper, filling up the void in him as he scowled at the man sprawled between him and the doorway. Between him and any other threat. In his safehouse. “Oh you fuck , are you telling me you knew! Are you telling me I slept in a domino for no reason!”
“Huh… is that really- oof, fucking asshole!” Dick moved, straddling the man with full weight as his hand shot out before Hood could think to actually move or escape.
“You knew who I was, you knew exactly whose apartment this was. Why the fuck were you squatting in my apartment?”
To his credit, Hood went entirely limp under him. “Huh, I wondered when this part was gonna happen.”
Dick shifted his weight, fully aware of how his knees would be digging into Hood’s very unarmored ribs. Hood hissed. “Ow, ow, fuck Boy Wonder, get off the fucking side! I’m here because it was a fucking arkham breakout and I’m injured as fuck, partially thanks to you lot.”
Dick immediately released the pressure, although he declined moving. Instead he yanked Hood’s shirt up and… yup… yeah… that was definitely a patchwork worthy of laying low for a while. He whistled. “Looks like you went toe to toe with Batman and Bane.”
Hood snorted. “Batman, Nightwing, Black Mask’s enforcers, Two-Face’s enforcers.”
He could make so many comments. Instead he stared and mulled them over. Finally he snorted. “Still mad you let me sleep in the mask when I didn’t have to .” Speaking of, he rolled off Hood and off the bed. “Do you have any idea the chaffing?” Really he probably could have added that to reasons to not go in to work today although he would also admit he hadn’t thought of it and honestly, it would be the first time he had put makeup convincingly over the raw marks.
“Wait… that’s it?” Hood shifted, sitting up slightly while Dick dug through to find the solvent. The mask came away nicely, leaving him to examine his face in the mirror. Pretty much exactly as he expected. He grimaced, reaching for the aftercare. “That’s all you’re mad about?”
“That’s all I’m acknowledging that I’m mad about. Compartmentalizing or whatever.” His face felt slimy now, he scowled at it before sighing. “Look… this is a safehouse and yeah, maybe I have a lot of issues with your whole thing you have going on, you’ve been pretty vocal about your issues with us but you know what, I’m wiped, you’re injured and the safe house… it well…” He hadn’t thought about it in a long time, he tried not to think about it ever. He tried not to think about how this safehouse was the one he always retreated to during this timeframe, because it was the one he had agreed on that even in their worst moments, even when Dick was being well… a dick, or Jason was being a dick that here , there would be a ceasefire and they’d protect each other. Jason would always be welcome here, no matter what was going on with the bats.
It had been where Jason should have gone when Bruce decided to be well… Bruce. It was Dick’s failure that he didn’t think he could, or didn’t want to, or whatever that had him seeking out someone halfway around the world. Now… now Jason never would and instead he had a crime lord hanging out that he was apparently extending the truce to.
Granted a crime lord who had taken over Crime Alley and who made it a case and point to protect kids and who was ruthlessly taking over and unfortunately cleaning up the drug and sex trades there. Not even Bruce could deny that change in crime rates as Hood’s power solidified. Would Jason have approved of Red Hood? God, that was something he was going to have to think about now.
“Dickie, hey Dickie… you good in there?”
Dick groaned, slumping over the sink. “I think I’m having a crisis, give me a minute.”
“Need me to kneecap someone?”
Himself? Dick forced himself straighter, though he really only accomplished holding his head while his hair flopped in his eyes. “What I was saying is uh… this safehouse has always been a truce area so I guess… so long as you abide by no causing injuries or adding blackmail or whatever then I will.” He shouldn’t keep standing in the bathroom. He had accomplished his task so Nightwing pushed himself fully standing and made his way back to the bedroom.
He was mostly just in time to hear Hood mumble. “Huh… didn’t know that’d still be a thing.”
Dick paused, before shaking his head slightly. Too many questions, and now he was feeling shitty again. He flopped down on the bed, back first so he didn’t get anything on the pillows. “I’m too tired for this.”
“You’re not going into whatever the fuck that was last night right?”
Dick hummed, “Probably not.”
“Good, cause that was creepy. Obviously not the crying part, do that as much as you need. More the… you being still and quiet and not caring.”
“Can’t cry right now.” And he had cared, there was a hole, and actually probably still a wingding, in the wall that proved it. Plus everything else.
“What, it’s daylight so you’re too stuck on-”
“Facemask.”
Hood was quiet for a moment before he snorted a laugh. “Dear god, you actually wear those? Is that why you were upset about the whole domino thing, because it interrupted your beauty routine?”
“Hey now, it helps with the chaffing.”
“Oh, of course, or course. Did you get the cucumbers that go with it?”
Dick seriously considered the odds of having any type of vegetable in the fridge. “I could probably order something…” Thinking on it, there wasn’t likely to be anything in the fridge. He gave a full body sigh. “Not even cereal.”
“Oh yeah, I threw that out, threw out most of the stock actually. I also assume the milk that was in there wasn’t in fact an experiment on making cheese?”
“You what!” So he should have had food!
“Dick, at least 75% of the food here could be considered hazardous. Like… not even past the ‘best by’ date but like… literally considering transcending into sentience levels of bad. Like… I know there’s protocols about safehouse upkeep that you’re blatantly ignoring… though I guess it really does show that you were right about Alfred never coming by this one.”
Dick was really getting tired of the world changing revelations. His id was one thing… alarming but within the realm of understandable why a rogue would either want or know that information. Just… just all of the details in that monologue though… He sat up on one elbow. “I’m going to need you to sit up.” Who the fuck was Hood that he knew about Alfred?
“I do believe we covered that I will not be doing that.”
“Despite my actions, I was lucid last night. I do remember it, and I never said anything about Alfred, or about this being a neutral zone. I certainly never told Red Hood that. So who exactly are you that you’d know all this?”
For a long moment Hood was silent. “‘K, one. I am Red Hood. Have the bonafide real deal helmet to prove it.” The statement was matched by a generalized wave at said helmet. “Two uh… I’m well researched?”
“You don’t sound so sure about that.”
“I am well researched.”
“If you don’t sit up I’m going to throw you off the side of the bed.”
“I would like to see you - oh fuck using feet isn’t fair!”
Dick successfully pushed Hood’s lower half off the bed in a short, sharp movement that got a wheeze from Hood as he scrambled to not fall flat onto the carpet below, hands scrabbling at the sheets. Dick snatched the assorted pillows before they could be used for cover, tossing them to the far side of the room before plopping down with a smirk just in front of Hood who…
“Hmmm…” He’d known the dark hair, the lock of white looked surprisingly like it was probably natural and not dyed. The features held a handful of scars but not the one’s his brain whispered were supposed to be there. Eyes were too startling green and narrowed to match the scowl when they should have been brilliantly excited or partially guarded blue. Too far off to be a clone or someone trying to pass off, too exact to be coincidence, especially combined with the commentary. Alternate universe was still an option. A change in eye color and a new hairstyle was far from the most impressive changes Dick had personally seen in those raised from the dead… or forced to pretend they were dead.
“You should never wear whatever the fuck is on your face around other people ever again.” Jason growled.
“Yeah, the titans said the same thing, a little more crudely.” Dick acknowledged before folding his arms nicely so he could lay his cheek on them. “I think I might kill Bruce.”
Jason popped up and there was the hint of the excitable boy although it was heavily tempered. “Wait, really?”
“Hmmm… maybe. Depends a little. Does Spyrol mean anything to you?”
“I think I killed someone from them…” Jason stared at him for a moment before apparently deciding that Dick wasn’t going to move and Jason was fine to consider it. “Yeah… yeah there were at least two assignments to kill people from them.”
“Assignments from who?”
“Not even going to bring up the ‘killed someone’ aspect?”
“Assignments from who , Little Wing?”
Jason scowled at him, “I really can’t take you seriously looking like that.”
“I’m not taking eyes off you.” He might never see him again. Jason might just be gone, disappearing like any of them could.
Jason worked his jaw before folding his arms and looking away. “Talia.”
“Talia Al Ghul?”
“Yeah, and what of it? She actually found me, she actually took me in after I crawled out of my own grave !”
Dick reached out, clasping Jason’s arm. Jason latched on with his other hand and hauled himself back up onto the bed in a less than graceful scramble. He made to just sprawl out on the bed although Dick successfully got him half tucked under his chin with his arms curled around Jason even if it was part headlock. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah well, I’m still dealing with the fact that you apparently didn’t know fuck all of what was going on. Hey! You said you couldn’t cry with that reject porno prop on! Oh god, is it in my hair!"
Eventually, after a considerable amount of thrashing, a few jabs into both of their wounds and bruises, and grumbling back and forth, they settled on an agreement that Dick would wash his face, Jason wouldn’t disappear, Dick would stop apologizing, and Jason would explain exactly where he’d been.
The end result was that Dick wasn’t actively planning on murdering Bruce. Jason’s commentary on that had been grumbling and at least one ‘booooo’. Jason might have been planning on murdering Bruce when Dick explained Bruce’s whole plan to make it look like Dick had died so he could go undercover. Jason went on a long impassioned rant turned lecture regarding why Batman’s methods wouldn’t work in Crime Alley while Dick made faces at some of the methods used and argued for other avenues before quietly admitting that it was possible to have killed someone, to kill, and still have a moral code because if it wasn’t possible then well…
Jason found out about the blood on Dick’s hands.
Jason argued that not all of them were Dick’s fault.
They argued about all those who might die because they let someone live, or the damage that could be done.
Jason and Dick agreed that their lives were rather fucked up.
Towards evening, and over the second takeout meal of the day, Dick called Tim to help settle the current argument regarding Bruce ‘allowing’ Tim to take up the mantle, ‘allowing’ him to think that he was secretly following Batman and that Batman didn’t know.
Dick set the phone on the counter and waited two rings, his other hand casually between Jason’s teeth. Jason was actively gnawing on it but well… such was the nature of the argument.
“Yeah,”
“Hey, so a head’s up. Definitely not coming to the followup family meeting tonight. Also, do you have some of the photos of the second Robin digitized?”
“B said it’s mandatory.”
“Yeah well, I’m pissed at him so all that would happen is a fight.” Dick was exceedingly proud of himself, he successfully kept his voice light and level as Jason elbowed him in the ribs. Dick tightened where his leg was wrapped around Jason’s side and leg as a response, earning him a hiss of breath as he pulled the leg to its apparent full stretch. He was so going to harass Jason about properly extending his range of motion.
Tim audibly sighed over the phone. “Dick…”
“So! The pictures?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why those ones? I have plenty of the first Robin, and Nightwing.”
Dick perked up. “Did you finally digitize them?”
“You made it very clear you planned to steal the book otherwise.”
“Send those too!”
Tim let out another audible sigh. “Fine… sure… whatever. Want some other highly guarded secret passed along just for the fun of it while we’re at it?”
“Alfred’s cookie recipe.”
For a moment there was silence then a snort. “Yeah… good luck. I doubt the combined might of the entire batclan could accomplish that particular feat.” Jason rolled his eyes, but at least wasn’t actively fighting anymore.
“Worth a try. So how soon can you send them?”
“There’s a time limit now?”
“Well, sooner is better than later.”
“Fine. I’ll try to warn you if B decides mandatory means mandatory.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed at the phone, but Dick smiled one of those smiles that wasn’t all sunlight and rainbows. “Thanks, Baby Bird.”
The line hung up and Dick released Jason to examine his hand. “You need to work on your exterior rotation.”
“My flexibility is just fine, thank you, it’s better than any average person! You’re just made of fucking rubber and that’s why you think holds like that shouldn’t work and there is no way that the kid followed us more than a few times and got a few lucky pictures. We would have noticed. We’re trained to notice shit like that which is why I know Batman let the kid think he didn’t know!”
Dick gave Jason the same unpleasant smile. “He followed us a lot , Jay, and here in a few I’ll have proof.”
“Bullshit. That kid sends more than 2 nights worth and I’ll give you Alfred’s cookie recipe.”
Dick immediately perked up. “Do you know it?”
“Of course I know it, dipshit, just because you aren’t allowed in the kitchen.”
“Alright, then it’s a bet! Tim sends proof that he followed you without you knowing for at least a month and you not only drop the whole ‘batman let himself be followed by a small child’ thing and you give me the recipe.”
Jason rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”
Just before patrol, which had been delayed by Batman trying to decide if he wanted to track down wherever Nightwing was holed up, Tim got a message.
He’d sent some of the more choice shots of both Dick and Jason as Robin maybe two hours ago, including both some of the photos he was most proud of as well as some of the more meme-able and/or blackmail worthy photos. Plus some sweet ones. For Dick to be asking for Jason’s pictures well… something probably had him reminiscent.
Maybe it would be a good thing for Dick to not be out patrolling with them tonight. Tim knew his status, knew that he was just the placeholder but still… it hurt to see that expectant look on B or N’s face when they turned and the flash of realization when it wasn’t Jason.
The message was… a recipe? It was a photo of the recipe written on what looked like Wayne Enterprises stationary in neat, crisp handwriting that wasn’t Alfred’s but most certainly wasn’t Dick’s.
At his string of question marks, Dick sent back way too many smiley faces and a text stating that apparently if Tim was willing to take what B would definitely consider too great of a risk but which Dick assured him would be fine, then apparently the mystery provider of the highly prized and guarded recipe would make a batch for each of them just to prove that the recipe was correct.
The risk was that to accomplish this, Tim would have to put his ‘batstalking’ skills to use and successfully get photos of Red Hood from within a block for at least 4 different nights within the span of two weeks.
Tim stared at the phone, wondering what in the world Dick could be getting up to. Still… Dick had been nearly ferally protective of him in a way that still felt a little strange so if he said there wasn’t a risk…
Tim still called via their secured secondary channel to confirm. Dick praised him for double checking authenticity, and assured him with far too much smugness that the ‘bet’ was indeed real. Tim glanced to where Batman was finishing his secondary equipment check and then slipped away to retrieve his usb. He just needed to confirm real quick.
“For the… I guess it’s a bet?... does it need to be from this point on or do historic pictures count too?”
For a moment there was silence and then a far, far too giddy Dick. “You’ve already stalked Red Hood?”
Honestly Tim had expected that Dick would scold him for it so the excitement threw him off. “Um… yes? Basic recon…”
“Send ‘em! Send ‘em!” Dick crowed, making it hard to hear what might be a second person in the background shouting something. The phone hung up before Tim could really respond.
He double checked the timestamps, verified some of the intel pictures he’d gotten could be easily traced back to specific dates without the timestamps, compiled 8 different date sets across the given two week span, and sent them. B had stared because now they were even later but when Tim waved him off with ‘Got ahold of N, he agreed to tracing movement patterns’, B had nodded and moved on.
He also included an honestly rather pretty shot, artistically speaking, of Red Hood kicking in a door with smoke and debris billowing around him, backlit by the club’s neon. Since it was Dick who had requested it and standard include questionable funny content if possible rules applied, Tim also sent the image of Red Hood attempting to stand menacingly in front of his men with small chalk covered handprints all over his legs, shoulder, and helmet.
Within a few minutes of him sending the pictures he’d collected, Dick sent back a video that mostly consisted of Dick crowing with triumphant laughter while a larger man leaned over an oven that had seen better days with his head in his hands shouting “Fuck! God fucking damnit . Fine! You fucking win, you shitbird!”
Tim… did not get an explanation until about two days later when he was invited over to one of Dick’s safehouses. Dick answered the door, ushered Robin into where Red Hood was standing in front of a distinctly different stove. The man had snarled as he threw Robin a box of… of cookies… flipped Dick off, and informed Robin that he still didn’t want to see anyone in tights in his territory.
Tim got the full explanation about a month later when his recon stalking got him some beautiful pictures of Red Hood taking off his helmet in Dick’s apartment for a movie night. He without qualms blackmailed Jason into making him plenty of home cooked meals so that he didn’t have to feel bad about always eating Alfred’s food or making Alfred worry about what he was, or often wasn’t, eating at Drake Manor.