Chapter Text
Jason’s living room was surprisingly clean.
It wasn’t hard to see why Alfred always seemed to like him better—Jason had always been a tidy boy. Unlike Dick, who was still haunted by memories of being scolded for leaving socks in the chandelier.
Shaking his head to banish the image of Alfred wielding a feather duster like a weapon, Dick sank into Jason’s couch and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long.
The front door creaked open, and a bulky figure shouldered his way in. Hidden behind the kitchen wall, Dick caught Jason’s reflection in the blank TV screen.
Arms straining under overstuffed grocery bags, Jason elbowed the light switch. The room was suddenly flooded with harsh light and jagged shadows.
Dick rubbed his eyes, and that tiny movement was all it took.
In less than a heartbeat, Jason snapped into full Red Hood mode—bags dropped, hand on his hidden holster, gun drawn and pointed straight at the couch.
“Who’s there?” he barked.
“Put that down, Jaybird—it’s just me,” Dick said, stepping into view, hands raised to shoulder height.
In hindsight, breaking into the Red Hood’s apartment was probably not the smartest way to ask for help. But Dick had been too distraught to think up a better plan.
His life was in Jason’s hands—even if the anti-hero wasn’t aware of it yet.
Jason swore colorfully, though the barrel didn’t immediately lower. “What the hell are you doing in my place?” he demanded. He sounded relieved—but also exactly two seconds away from kicking Dick out the window.
Dick smiled wide and innocent, showing empty hands. “What, I have to make an appointment to visit my little brother now?”
Jason finally shoved the gun back into its holster with a grunt, still muttering profanity under his breath.
“You’re cleaning that up, asshole,” he snapped, jerking his head at the mess in the hallway.
Dick bent to retrieve a rogue apple that had rolled his way. “You really didn’t have to go full drama queen over it,” he said, biting into the fruit.
Jason shot him a glare so piercing it could’ve come with a boot to the ribs. “Says the guy who breaks into my apartment and lurks in the dark like a freaking bat, trying to catch people off guard.”
Dick gave a sheepish half-laugh. “I wasn’t *trying* to catch you off guard. Your couch is just… placed in the wrong spot.”
Jason tossed a cleaning rag at his chest and said nothing. The insult was implied.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, anyway?” he asked as Dick scrubbed at the oil stain on the parquet, grumbling about jarred olives and parquet floors not being natural roommates.
Dick handed back the rag, mentally vowing never to buy oily products again. Then he took a breath. Time to sell it.
“I need your help with something,” he said—and regretted the phrasing immediately.
“I’m not doing shit for you.”
“Jason.”
“No! Last time I needed help, you were too busy playing Daddy’s Good Boy to even look at me.”
That stung.
Jason wasn’t wrong. The last time they’d both been in the cave, lined up in front of an unreasonably furious Bruce, Dick had let him down. Jason had taken the full heat—for something that, frankly, wasn’t entirely his fault. Dick had lost his bike keys. Jason had lost actual blood.
“I help you when you really need it, Jason. You know that.”
“I really needed it then.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did!”
Dick sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I couldn’t go against Bruce. If you want that kind of help, talk to Alfred.”
That name worked like a shut-off switch.
Jason froze, mouth pulled tight. “Then go to Replacement.”
“Tim wouldn’t be the best choice,” Dick said. “He’s eighty pounds too light and eight inches too short.”
That earned him a suspicious squint. Jason’s curiosity was officially piqued.
“What the hell is going on in that filthy mind of yours, dickface?”
Dick leaned in slightly. “I need a fake Batman. For one night.”
Jason blinked.
Then: “A FAKE *WHAT*?!”
“NO WAY!”
The outburst came in stereo.
Dick froze, turned—
—and found himself face-to-face with a furious, pint-sized ninja in full Robin gear.
“Damian!” Dick exclaimed.
Because of course Damian had been hiding in the ceiling again.