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“Look, I had no clue she liked me, alright? She was weird, man--- She kept trying to hold my hands while I was taking notes.”
“Dude.”
“Oh. I just made the connection.”
Hood stopped himself before he could open the already cracked window, instantly shucking his identifying markers. Helmet, guns, jacket… Now he looked like a simple degenerate, singed burns an’ all. Ugh. Since when did the kid have friends over? Tim never had friends over. Ever.
Stuffing his things into a corner of the fire escape, Jason briefly considered the allure of just limping his way back to the edge of Crime Alley fifty-seven blocks from here. He decided to bite the bullet. He’d lost his new phone. He could just… use Tim’s. Call a ride. Get outta here before things got awkward.
Tim looked up from his laptop as soon as Jason squeezed through the window, making a slightly miffed face. The kid in the corner--- Rather baby-faced under that mess of red hair, but probably Tim’s age--- paused mid-sketch on his device to give Jason a much more courteous look.
“Hi,” Jason said awkwardly, shutting the window behind him. “It’s raining out.”
“I can see that,” Tim replied flatly. “Spooky, this is my brother Jay. Jay, meet Spooky.”
The kid pointed to the bathroom with the look of one who’d ushered a little old lady inside from the cold. “We just did the laundry; it’s all on the bed if you need a towel or sum. I dunno if Tim’s clothes would fit you…”
“They would most definitely not. Dick left some stuff in the bottom drawer, Jay.” Tim glared fiercely. “You’ll be cleaning up that trail of water you’re leaving behind, right?”
Jason closed himself into the next room to change, flabbergasted. Since when did Tim care about water on the floor? He barely even cared about blood, at least not at Jason’s safehouses. (Ugh… Dick’s shirt was really tight. Fortunately, the bottoms he’d left were loose sweatpants.)
Jason toweled the water from his hair, shooting off a text to his team--- He was fine; his trackers suddenly stopping in the middle of the Diamond District was no cause for alarm--- and carefully opened the door again.
“I like the white,” Tim’s guest said without looking up from his drawing.
Jason blinked rapidly. Oh… the white hair. “Thanks?”
The uncanny stranger raised a curious stare. Damn, that kid had so many freckles it was almost impossible to tell that his pale skin might have been transparent. “So who died?”
Jason almost choked, but before he could say something clever like “How do you know that?” or “Why do you ask?” or “Is it that obvious?”, Tim raised an eyebrow, too.
“N… no one,” was all he could manage, flustered. Dammit--- This was why he wore a helmet.
Tim’s shoulders softened. “Ally?”
Jason glanced rapidly between the two, trying to gauge whether this… civilian… knew anything more than he should have. He learned nothing. “Bystander.”
Tim made a sympathetic hum in the back of his throat.
“Oh.” Spooky rapidly deflated. “I mean, that sucks, but I could’ve gotten a coffin built for half the price if it was you or your friend.”
Jason’s brain finally stalled out. “I died already.” What?! No!!! Don’t SAY that---
Spooky immediately perked up again. “Oh, my family’s in the coffin-building business. Did you use one of ours?”
English--- buffering--- “I don’t know. I was dead.”
The kid shrugged, returning to his sketch. He didn’t question the window entrance or the suspicious nature of Jason’s presence or the deadpan death joke that anyone else would have blinked twice at. Either this dude simply did not care… was expertly playing along… or was just that gullible.
Jason shook himself back to reality, disgruntled. “Who wants tea?”
“Is a PB&J… still a PB&J… if you… Hear me out… if you eat the pieces of bread… separately?”
“Tim… focus.”
“My computer isn’t the one updating Windows for the second time in one week. Don’t you have Linux on a thumb drive?”
“Yeah, but the professor won’t take anything but Word, and Word is---”
“Your professor is officially lame.”
“Did the grandpa pants not tip you off?”
Dick set down his six bags of groceries, covered pan, and insulated crock pot. He hadn’t expected to walk in (“Yeah, I’ll leave the door unlocked. I don’t actually want you incinerated by my new security system.”) on even one voice, let alone two. Tim barely talked when he was well. “Hello?”
“Hey,” the kiddo called stuffily. “Help y’rself to the cereal; throwing it up ruined it for me.”
Dick winced sympathetically as he peeked around the corner of the living room. “I’ll get that off your hands. Who is this?”
The pleasantly round woman sitting on the beanbag adjacent the couch looked up from her laptop, poking her Harry Potter glasses back into place. “Oh, hi there. I’m a friend of Tim’s; you can call me Lacy.”
Tim snorted wetly, like “Lacy” was some sort of inside joke. Even bundled in a pile of blankets with a bucket by his side, he looked… uh, sorta drowned.
“Hangin’ in there, kiddo?” Dick asked softly.
The bundle of red-nosed blankets twitched, mimicking a shrug. “Lacy did th’ cooking already. Y’ can throw in the laundry if y’ wanna.”
“Spooky already did that yesterday.” Lacy glanced up, blue light glinting off her glasses like an anime character. “He could probably use some squishing, though. He won’t let me touch him.”
“Touching is not for mortals,” Tim sniffed defiantly, burrowing deeper into his cocoon. “Weak immune system. Y’ shouldn’t even be here…”
“You need help with chores. I need help with school.” Lacy tapped with furious speed at her keyboard. “I see this as an absolute win.”
Dick pointed a thumb over his shoulder, grinning. He was getting Mom Friend vibes already; good. Tim had been isolated from non-cape humanity for far too long since the Brucequest; all of them had. This was good for him. “I’ll put everything away. Alfie sent another batch of chicken soup, Tim, and your favorite coffeecake, extra coffee. It’s portioned so you don’t, and I quote, ‘swallow it whole like a snake’.”
Tim peeked out, a fever-flushed smirk sliding across his pale face. “Good ole’ Alfie.”
Lacy curiously cocked her head, short blue-tipped curls bobbing around her face. “Who’s Alfie?”
“Y’ remember da butt-ler?”
“Ohhhhhhhh.”
“You, but super duper British.”
“Super duper British is always better.”
“Always.”
Dick backed into the kitchen, still mildly confused, and moved aside maybe six potted plants that hadn’t been there last week in order to access the mugs. He set some tea to boil--- Hey, he wasn’t bad at tea--- and put away the groceries. Regular visits from Jason over the past few weeks, as well as one by Alfred, meant that the fridge was already organized. Dick had probably overshopped. (He was worried, okay? Tim NEVER got sick. Correction… He never let anyone know about it. The fact that he’d texted the group chat with a humble request for hot comfort foods from Alfred’s kitchen…)
“He wants coffeecake,” a chipper voice suddenly sounded in his ear.
Dick jumped about three feet, clutching the mugs to his chest. “Fudge.”
Lacy smiled apologetically, patting his shoulder as she reached past him for the covered dish. “Sorry. Everyone tells me I move like a super secret agent.”
“No one says that,” Tim called stuffily from the next room.
“He’s delirious,” Lacy said solemnly, plating a piece of the cake before popping it into the microwave, then taking the mugs from Dick’s weak grip to complete the tea-making process. “Stark raving mad, one might say.”
“I didn’t ask for a babysitter,” Tim shouted back, clearly grumpy.
Dick stepped out of the way, laughing awkwardly. Was he even needed here? Right… cuddles. “I’ll just go…”
“Give him hugs.” Lacy shooed him off with another smile that reached her eyes. “He is perpetually touch starved.”
Dick crept quietly into the living room, settling onto the couch before digging through the mound of blankets for his brother. “Perpetually touch starved, huh?”
“Don’ listen to HER,” Tim complained huffily. He whined when Dick dragged him free of the overheated blankets. “She forgets to EAT.”
“Shhhhhhhh.” Dick leaned back against the arm, draping Tim’s smaller body against his chest with soothing back rubs. “I believe you, bud.”
Tim sniffled dejectedly, going limp with his chin propped on Dick’s shoulder. “Hurts.”
“I know.” Dick squeezed gently, closing his eyes. Tim was so very warm… “Anything in specific?”
“Mph. Head.”
Dick moved his hand at once, threading careful fingers through the upper layer of Tim’s greasy hair. The hum of delight prompted him to stroke a little deeper, scratching lightly at the poor kiddo’s scalp. Tim sighed contentedly, melting like a marshmallow. His weight slackened with true relaxation, muscles unwinding in Dick’s hold.
“Wow,” Lacy sounded quietly, setting a plate of cake on the coffee table. “He must really trust you.”
Dick looked up, startled. “What makes you say that?”
Lacy raised an eyebrow at him for some reason, shrugged, and turned back to the kitchen. “Just a hunch.”
He hadn’t believed his older brothers at first. Timothy, normal friends? Granted, “normal” was not the word they had used to describe the strangers they’d found lurking in Timothy’s home, but “normal” was the only way to accurately describe anyone unaffiliated with the superhero world.
Perhaps they were secret villains. Spies, perhaps, or sleeper agents. Damian disarmed Timothy’s traps quite easily, slipping inside. There was no possible way that the wretched ex-Robin had made regular human friends.
“--- making me dizzy, Jackie,” Timothy was saying.
“Close your eyes, then,” an answering voice chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to be napping anyway, Mr. All-Nighter?”
“Lacy needed an extra set of eyes on her final. I can’t be an awful friend, can I?”
“No more than usual.”
Damian poked his head around the corner, scowling. A stranger was indeed pacing in circles around Timothy’s living room, phone in hand. “Who goes there?”
The woman stopped short, positive delight taking over her face. She appeared to restrain herself before breathing, “Hi.”
Damian crossed his arms uneasily, glancing at Timothy, who refused to look up from his video game console. “I am here for the kittens, Drake.”
“Bathroom,” Timothy muttered carelessly. “I fed ‘em this afternoon; the little one needs to be bottle fed in a couple hours.”
Damian glanced once more at the strange woman, who was still staring at him with shining eyes, phone clutched to her chest, then hurried to collect his target. The stray kittens that Drake had found were huddled together in a cuddle pile. Damian picked them up one by one, gently turning the sleepy creatures over. Beyond a need for flea medication, baths, and perhaps liberal petting, they appeared to be in good health. Drake had chosen well when he’d contacted Damian for help.
“It was like an annoyingly complicated workflow if you count the videos,” this Jackie woman was rambling as Damian reentered the living room, her manic pacing resumed. “but for the audio-only part of the editing, I’ll record the actual audio via Apple’s audio notes feature, then use the EZAudioCut mobile app to actually cut stuff out plus splice it together, then I’d upload to Anchor FM to add the music or actually release it. Honestly, being able to add the music to help minimize background noise--- Me getting overly distracted by s-sounds was a Godsend by itself.”
“I can’t imagine that makes things easier,” Timothy responded calmly, fingers flicking without pause over his controller. “Audacity is free; it has filter capabilities to minimize background noise. Like, you could select a sample of just room noise an’ have it remove that background stuff from the whole clip. There’re probably ways to knock down the S-es, too.”
Jackie opened her mouth to respond, caught sight of Damian, and stopped pacing. “Got your kitties?”
Damian eyed her with no little suspicion, trying to calculate the odds that she was indeed some spy in disguise. “Yes, thank you. Timothy, I require assistance getting downstairs.”
“Dick left to drop by Starbucks for Steph,” Timothy said absently. “He texted that he’ll be back in fifteen.”
Damian breathed deeply, trying not to let his seething annoyance bubble over. “I see. In that case---”
“Do you want to play Smash Bros with him?” the woman invited, shifting her weight comfortably to one side. She wore a leather jacket like Jason’s, but her smile was exactly like Richard’s, soft and welcoming and alarmingly disarming. She wasn’t even facing him; her body language stayed plausibly disinterested, feet turned away at an angle. “He’s been begging me to play, but I’ve got podcast issues to work on. Not all of us have siblings forcing us workaholics to take time off.”
“Ha ha ha,” Timothy intoned sarcastically, but he was already offering a spare controller, eyes still on the screen. “You’re the one who taught me how to turn hobbies into chores. Here ya go, Damian. I’ve already taken Bowser, so go fish.”
Damian glanced down at the box in his arms, uncertain. The babies were still sleeping… “Tt--- very well.”
Three knocks was probably ominous. Should he knock… five? What if he had the wrong--- No, this was definitely the right address. Ugh, he should have texted Tim for clarification instead of allowing Jason to send him on a random sidequest to pick up “the goods” won in their latest bet.
Duke finally bit the bullet, tapping quietly on the door. (A whole FIVE times.) There were only two penthouses on the top floor, so at least his margin for error was a small one.
“It’s on the island,” Tim said breathlessly, yanking the door wide open. “Careful; it’s combustible. I gotta run.”
“Uh…” Duke stepped inside, buffering. Tim was wearing a suit, hair slicked back, and a girl Duke didn’t recognize was curled up in the living room surrounded by three stacks of books. “Where…?”
“Last minute meeting,” Tim muttered grouchily, shoving his shoes on with an air of dangerous impatience. “Boot has the run of the place; just lock the door on your way out.”
Boot? Duke mouthed silently, but Tim was already gone. He glanced apprehensively at the sealed box on the island counter, then again at the girl surrounded by books. “Boot?”
The girl smiled, pulling her long ponytail over her shoulder to fidget with as she stood. “Y’know, like they say to the greenies in boot camp… Boot. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Uh, yeah, you too.” Duke shook her hand at once, pleasantly surprised by the open body language. “What’re you studying?”
“Japanese, but I’ve actually got several free reads here.” Boot stepped aside, laughing with a hint of embarrassment as she gestured to the stacks of books. “It’s much quieter here than at my house.”
“Honestly.” Duke glanced away, trying not to seem too interested. Normal people got nervous at the hyper-competent detective skills. Not that Duke would know anything about that, of course. “How many are you hoping to read?”
“Oh, hopefully I’ll be through with ten by the time Tim gets home.” Boot hurried to the kitchen, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as she went rooting through the fridge. “Do you want… uh, what do you want?”
“Pop is fine.” Duke examined the stacks a little more closely. “I’m just his brother, though; you don’t have to play hostess.” He glanced up as an afterthought. “Adopted.”
“Really? You look just like him,” Boot joked nervously, handing over the drink before flopping back down into the book nest.
Duke laughed along with her. “I look more like our dad, honestly.”
“Mmm, yes, especially the eyes.”
“Right? And the build.” Duke flexed jokingly. “Some people say I could pull off public impersonations.”
Boot pulled a heavy textbook into her lap, snickering. “I don’t suppose you know anything about Japanese.”
“I do, actually, but I noticed that one…” Duke sank down into the couch, weirdly at ease. “The Modern Laws of Aerodynamics. Are you an aviation buff?”
Boot’s expression lit up immediately. “I wanna be. Planes are fascinating, and the highways we create in the sky that just… intersect and criss-cross and make sense? Human beings come up with that.”
Duke grinned widely. “We’re gonna get along just fine.”
The apartment was more full than she had first expected.
Cass cocked her head in the hallway outside, listening. It was nearly midnight, which meant that the visitor--- A single person judging by the soft sounds that humans made when they took up space--- was probably a close friend. Perhaps someone special?
Cass poked anxiously at her phone. Perhaps she should return another time. Tim had said to drop by for the file before midnight… and it was before midnight…
“Hi,” Tim greeted softly as soon as she’d cracked the door. (The biometrics read her fingerprints. She had been encouraged never to knock.) “It’s on the island.”
Cass slunk to the kitchen, grabbing her paper file--- Impossible to crack this way, and the information was sensitive to her current case--- before peeking into the living room. Tim was strolling in a casual circle, energy drink in hand. Huddled in the beanbag was a young woman with white side bangs. She looked up from a sketchbook, blinking owlishly, and locked eyes with Cass. Anxiety tightened in her shoulders.
Cass raised her semi-empty hands. “Safe.”
“She doesn’t think you’re unsafe,” Tim explained casually, brushing a hand over the woman’s head as he passed. “She thinks she needs to play extrovert now.”
Cass smiled knowingly. “Yuck.”
The young woman slowly eased, smiling in relief. Her body language was friendly, Cass noted with delight, but unwell. “Sick?”
“Mhm.” Tim stopped behind the beanbag on his next circuit, sipping from the can. He stood facing the window. Protective, Cass noted. Purposeful or automatic? “Birdie, this is my sister, Cass.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman croaked sheepishly. “He won’t let me talk.”
“Not if you want another tea,” Tim threatened calmly.
Cass glanced at the many used mugs on the coffee table, wincing. “What about spleen?”
“That’s what I said---” Birdie started to huff.
“It’s not contagious.” Tim finally plopped down to sit, smiling dangerously. Cass was well acquainted with that look. That was the look of one who’d just as soon sedate you as hand you Xanax. “She’s sick from pulling an all-nighter. I’m tryna cut her a break, though. She’s only two pineapples tall.”
Birdie sank down into the beanbag, pouting, and returned to her sketchbook. “Everyone ELSE does it…”
“We’re built different,” Tim reminded patiently.
“I’m not FRAGILE.”
“Everyone knows to protect the Hufflepuff.”
“YOU’RE a Hufflepuff. Your MOM’S a Hufflepuff.”
Cass cocked her head in confusion. “Hufflepuff?”
Birdie exchanged a smug microexpression with Tim, and, uncannily, they spoke at the exact same time. “Muggles.”
Cass crossed her arms with a sigh, pretending to feel left out. She could read between the lines--- The slight sweat caused by recent nightmares, the flush of fever, the sleep-deprived deliriousness. This was good for them, both of them, and she would not interrupt. “At least I sleep.”
“I know, right?” Tim shook his head as if he was excluded from the party of non-sleepers. “We need to keep her pure. She’s the only neurotypical left.”
Birdie threw her pencil at his head, gasping. “Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you take that back right this instant.”
Tim threw his hands up to shield his face, snorting. “Shit--- She used my government name. Cass, send help.”
“Take it back!!!”
“Hey, normal isn’t a bad thing!!! You’re a functional human being!!! It’s a compliment!!!”
“You use normal like it’s a slur!!!”
“Fine, you’re a spicy flavor of normal. Happy?”
“What about that time I got arrested for hugging the president? What about the pineapple incident? What about hiking from Jersey to Vermont on a dare?”
Cass’s eyebrows were inching very high up her forehead. “Spicy.”
Birdie slumped in pitiful defeat while Tim tried in vain not to laugh.
“Guys, I just realized the enzyme pineapples produce that tries to eat you back is called bromelain because pineapple plants are bromeliads.”
“Fascinating information that I will not remember tomorrow. Wait… scratch that, I already forgot.”
Spoiler hesitated upside down by the window. She’d tied her cape around her waist to keep it out of the way; she didn’t want to give herself up before she’d managed to scare Tim through the bulletproof glass. (Honestly, that was the only safe way to scare him.) NOW though…
She lowered herself down to the top corner of the window, peeking in. Two women were in there with Tim, one mom-looking gal locked in a chess game with him, another swaying from foot to foot with her phone in hand.
“Oh, alright, then,” mom-woman jabbed, the first voice that Spoiler had heard. She looked up at phone-woman with a playful glare. “I guess we’re only allowed to talk about interesting ways to dispose of the human body.”
“Science is interesting,” Tim encouraged absently, moving a piece. “Check.”
“Taxidermy has great education potential,” phone-woman argued passively, peering over mom-woman’s shoulder. “Move your bishop.”
“When I die,” mom-woman said calmly, moving her knight instead. “fling my body into Area Fifty-One and run. It’s like donating to science but really it’s giving the aliens a freebie.”
“You could turn me into soap if you’re that squeamish about it,” phone-woman grumbled.
Tim chuckled gleefully as he moved his queen. “Checkmate.”
Spoiler hit retract. Maybeeeeeee she’d drop in for a jumpscare another time…
“You can make soap out of breast milk, too,” someone continued through the cracked window as Spoiler left.
“Go to bed.”
“I can’t!!! I have to finish this draft, give a second editing pass to the third rewrite, then post to update before midnight.”
“Go to bed.”
“If I can finish the fifth edit of the second draft, actually, I’ll be ahead of my release---”
Tim leaned back from the video call. “Someone knock her out already.”
“I got it…”
Barbara tried not to look too surprised. Tim’s apartment sounded very full of people. Highly unheard of. “Is this a bad time?”
“Nope.” Tim tossed some popcorn into his mouth. “What d’you need?”
“I was hoping to get your assessment on the Marretti case…”
“Done.” Tim’s eyes ghosted across the screen as he turned his attention to a second monitor. “I only have a few more sentences to add; gimme one sec.”
Barbara glanced toward Tim’s right, where a young woman was curled up behind three stacks of books. She appeared to be studiously ignoring the distinct noises of a chase. To Tim’s left was the couch, where another young woman sat with her head back, listening raptly as yet another woman, this one with two phones in her hands, paced back and forth and back again behind the couch, jabbering nonstop. The scene was remarkably like a therapy session.
“Sit down Jackie,” Tim called over his shoulder.
The woman with two phones plopped down, appearing exasperated. “There are dishes---”
“Spooky has it,” Tim answered like he’d rehearsed this.
“How about the---”
“Boot.”
“Dinner needs t’---”
“Lacy. Stop trying to work on your night off; not happening.”
“Tim!!!” a different voice shrieked offscreen. “He’s going Ninja Blackout Mode!!!”
“He does that,” Tim called casually as he typed. “He’s really competitive.”
“I don’t care WHY he dissociates like a hunting animal; he is--- five feet--- of compact fury!!! Call him off!!!”
Tim grunted as two blurs dashed past his chair, one squealing in dismay, the other with a bat over his shoulder not two feet behind. “Just trap him in a weighted blanket, geez.”
The woman with two phones ducked down without looking as the tiny terror swung the bat, narrowly missing his target. “Lacy, be a dear. My brain is generously half-mast an’ I’m not allowed to do anything useful, apparently.”
“Yup.” The supposed Lacy rolled to her feet, grabbed a blanket, and climbed on top of the couch. She threw the item like a net into the next room where Barbara couldn’t see. An audible thump followed. The young woman reading books hadn’t moved an inch except to turn the page.
“Did you knock him out?” the victim’s voice ventured.
“Yup,” Lacy called back. “He’s asleep on the kitchen floor. You can come out now.”
The woman holding two phones lowered one. “You still need to go to bed, Birdie.”
“Everyone ELSE is staying up!!!”
“We’re built different,” at least two people answered in harmony.
Barbara pursed her lips in thought. Tim seemed very checked out. Had he hosted a college party he didn’t know how to end? “Blink twice if you need backup.”
“Hm?” Tim looked up, blinking much more than twice. “Oh, this is fine.”
Barbara gave him The Eyebrow. “Really.”
“Really.” Tim finally glanced at the indecipherable chaos behind him. “I mean, I guess it IS a little louder than normal.”
“I swear he only sleeps when he’s being crushed,” someone interrupted distantly.
“Or when there’s clean laundry to crash on.” The phone-carrying woman suddenly lit up. “Does anyone have a sharpie?”
Tim turned back to the screen, snorting. “Yeah, we’re good.”
Barbara struggled to find words. “I didn’t know you had…”
Tim met her gaze very briefly, sharp. “Friends?”
Barbara ran through a mental list of synonyms before shrugging. “NORMAL friends.”
“Careful.” Tim sent her the file. “They don’t like being called normal.”
“Hey, Timmy, who’s this ‘Get well soon’ card from?”
“Dick. It’s a few weeks old, don’t worry.”
“You have really weird siblings.”
“Hey.”
Jason glanced up from the gun he was cleaning. This quiet time was supposed to be sacred; a weekly gathering around Wayne Manor’s living room where no noise whatsoever was allowed. Everyone typically worked on cases or personal hobbies during the required three hour window, and until now, no one had made a peep beyond the quiet shuffling of paper, the scratching of pencils, and the tack-tack-tacking of keys. These rules were enforceable by Alfred. NO one defied Alfred. “Shhh.”
Barbara winced apologetically. “Right, right, I just… Have you guys met Tim’s friends?”
“Oh my God.” Steph glanced over her shoulder to check for Alfred before leaning almost off of her chair, waterpaints precariously balanced. “No, but I heard them through his window. I think they may be escaped asylum inmates.”
Jason choked on his water. “Fuck.”
“I know,” Steph whispered frantically, misinterpreting his discomfort. “Dude, they were talking about how to turn bodies into soap.”
“We discuss such subjects all the time,” Damian muttered skeptically.
Jason shook his head as he sat up, putting down his book. “No, no, she’s got a point. I met this one mousy kid with freckles. Super normal dude, right? Except he offered to get me a deal on a custom coffin.”
Dick finally snapped to attention from his stupid hand game with Cass, eyes wide. “No fuckin’ way.”
“That must be the same kid who gave chase with a bat.” Barbara steepled her fingers together, glasses glinting in the light from the fireplace. “I believe he fully expected to knock another of Tim’s friends out by force.”
Steph glanced quickly between them, covering her mouth. “It isn’t funny. It’s not. We should call the police or something, right?”
“They haven’t actually hidden any bodies, Steph,” Dick murmured firmly, also glancing around for Alfred. “I met one; she was super nice. She brings him plants an’ stuff.”
“Is that why his apartment looks like a jungle?”
“Jungle is a bit extreme…”
“No,” Damian jumped in, suddenly taking the conversation much more seriously. “Timothy is as gullible as he is genius. He might very well be harboring criminals without knowing it.”
“Right,” Steph encouraged unnecessarily. “We should save him or something.”
“An investigation wouldn’t be pushing it,” Barbara mused thoughtfully. “I mean, sure, such behavior would be regular for us, but for a normal group of non-vigilante affiliated college kids…”
“Wait.” Jason held his hand up, suddenly uneasy. “Do we know they aren’t?”
“I dunno,” Duke finally put in, glancing over his shoulder like it was a tic. “I met Boot; she seemed pretty nice.”
“Who, the bookworm?” Barbara checked quickly.
“Howwwww do you know that?”
“You should have seen my video call the other day. Okay, do we know anything more concerning than a conversation about… body soap?”
“Literally,” Steph emphasized. “AND pineapple acid. AND human taxidermy.”
“No, really, she’s chill,” Duke said again. “She used to work with Poison Ivy at a flower shop. That was before she knew Ivy was an undercover criminal, but---”
“I rest my case.” Steph gestured dramatically, falling back in her chair like a fainting damsel. She promptly shot up again to the sound of a very disgruntled cat. “Sorry, Pennyworth, sorry---”
“Lacy seemed pretty harmless, too,” Dick ventured carefully, but Jason could tell he was doubting himself. “Did you meet any of them, Cass?”
“Birdie.” Cass smiled over the hand game she was now playing with Titus, who was a very half-asleep participant. “Cute.”
“See?” Dick sat back with an air of relief. “They’re just a little strange, that’s all. Cass is the ultimate vibe checker an’ Cass says they’re probably fine.”
“Probably,” Cass agreed.
“Unreassuring to the tenth degree,” Jason grouched. “We have had wildly different experiences here. Damian?”
The kid scowled even harder. “Upon meeting the Jason Todd impersonator---”
“Birdie?” Cass piped up. “Dyed hair just like yours, Jay. Loves Red Hood.”
Jason felt the blush up to his ears. “That’s so cringe.”
“No, the other impersonator; the woman with a leather jacket.” Damian snapped as he suddenly remembered. “Jackie. She was able to put me at ease with only a few words. I say she is a League sleeper agent, and she is likely not the only one.”
“Tim does have the survival instincts of a wet paper bag,” Dick admitted grudgingly. “Secret agents might be pushing it. Maybe they’re just… delinquents.”
Steph slapped the arm of her chair. “Do delinquents make dead bodies into soap?!”
Everyone instantly scrunched down in their seats, eyes darting to every shadow for the looming figure of a disapproving butler. Steph covered her mouth in dismay. No one breathed for a good sixty seconds.
“Great fucking job,” Jason whispered hoarsely.
“Look,” Steph whisper-screamed back. “I’m just worried.”
“This discussion will come to a fruitless conclusion without more information,” Barbara whispered firmly. “What we need---”
The keys clinked in the lock of the front door. “Hi, guys,” Tim called at a normal volume. He was instantly shushed by at least three people. “Wow, geez, sorry. I got a pardon for being late; I had to drop a friend off at class.”
“The body soap friend or the coffin friend?” Steph whisper-screamed again.
“Steph,” Jason shot back. “Enough with the body soap.”
“Wait.” Tim dropped his keys on the hallway table. “Someone back up. What’s the crisis?”
“Tim,” Babs started carefully, glancing at Jason with obvious discomfort. Jason gestured widely, exasperated. What was she looking at him for?
“Are your friends delinquents?” Dick blurted out.
Tim’s expression did several unreadable things before landing on wary amusement. “Like… us?”
Jason dropped his face into his hands. This family had the tact of a brick. Might as well drive the point home. “Like potential psychopaths.”
“Sooo…” Tim crossed to Jason’s couch, perching on the arm. “Us?”
Steph gestured wildly between them. “WE are VIGILANTES who fight LITERAL MURDERERS for a living. WE are THE NIGHT. Your friends are normal-ass people.”
“--- aren’t they?” Damian cut in, crossing his arms with narrowed eyes.
Tim’s expression dropped its sleepy mask, morphing quickly to genuine bewilderment. “They’re just dumb college kids, yeah. I mean, I’m pretty sure some of them are geniuses, and they’re all fucked up in their own ways, but they’re not escaped convicts if that’s what you’re asking. They’re just weird.”
Steph laughed hysterically. “Oh, that clears things up. They’re just weird. I should have known. Totally normal people talk about turning bodies into soap in the same sentence as handing out alien freebies all the time.”
“Wait.” Jason sat up as something of mild interest occurred to him. “Are they just like you?”
Tim gave him a Very Tired look. “Elaborate.”
“Genius but stupid?” Dick squeaked like he didn’t wanna be the one to say it.
Tim’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling for a moment. (Was he actually thinking about it?) “Maybe. Some of ‘em, yeah. Mostly they just like my penthouse.”
“Have they figured it out, too?” Jason fought hard to suppress the growing glee. This had the potential to be so problematic for everyone else. “Do they know? Do they know your vigilante identity?”
Tim’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair. “Honestly? I have no clue.”
“Ahem.”
Alfred’s cough snapped the tension right in two. Dick shrieked three octaves too high, Cass dove under the couch, Duke dropped like a rock to hide on the floor behind Titus, and Damian froze like a deer in headlights. Jason ducked down like that would do absolutely anything to hide his stature.
Tim grinned sheepishly at the shadows, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Sorry. Joining the quiet time now.”
Cass stuck her hands out from under the couch to sign. Your friends weird.
Jason fought back a snort. Weird friends indeed.