Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5176757.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, M/M
  Fandom:
      DCU_(Comics), Batman_(Comics), Batman_and_Robin_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Jason_Todd/Bruce_Wayne, Dick_Grayson/Damian_Wayne, Tim_Drake/Kon-El_|
      Conner_Kent, Stephanie_Brown/Cassandra_Cain
  Character:
      Bruce_Wayne, Jason_Todd, Dick_Grayson, Damian_Wayne, Tim_Drake, Stephanie
      Brown, Cassandra_Cain, Alfred_Pennyworth, Original_Male_Character(s),
      Miguel_Barragan, Clark_Kent
  Additional Tags:
      Family, batfamily, Sexual_Content, Minor_Violence, Sequel, Companion
      Piece
  Series:
      Part 2 of thieves_in_the_night
  Collections:
      DCU_Big_Bang_2015
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-09 Words: 10192
****** thieves in the night ******
by allourheroes
Summary
     When Damian was only just seducing his former mentor, Bruce and Jason
     were negotiating their already established relationship--if it could
     even be called that. Somehow Dick and Damian had figured things out a
     bit quicker.
     [DCU Bang 2015]
Notes
     I will figure out the proper linkage later as I'm already past the
     deadline for amnesty week. Yikes.
     Thank you to my wonderful and talented friend who did the art for
     this as well as my friend/cheerleader/beta TheLiterator, without whom
     this would still be an unfinished wreck.
     Title is from the song "Thieves in the Night" by Hot Chip, much like
     the title of its predecessor. (This takes place partially during that
     fic, as well as for a time after.)
     EDIT: GO_CHECK_OUT_THIS_GORGEOUS_ART!
                                        
         [http://36.media.tumblr.com/e1f279217addbf78647a86c6d6c11060/
                      tumblr_nxkrxlZLYE1u4pmfyo3_500.jpg]
Jason buttons up his pants with far too much satisfaction. He knows Bruce is
still watching him. "Maybe I'll see you later," he suggests, but in a way that
says he won't.
Bruce looks hungry and Jason has to stop himself from going back for round
three. While Jason tries to make himself semi-decent again, Bruce heads to the
shower--an invitation Jason forces himself to ignore.
He tries to be quiet as he leaves the room, closing the door almost
noiselessly.
"Jason?" he hears, and cringes.
"Timmy," he says, and he's grown rather fond of Tim, really, but Tim is smart.
He waits for Tim to make the next move, can see the way Tim's gaze sweeps over
him.
"Were you training with Bruce?" Tim asks. "You're all...sweaty."
Training, Jason thinks. "Training," he repeats out loud and his temporary
confusion must be obvious, but he covers it well. "Yeah," he says. "Gotta keep
the old man on his toes." He grins and raises his eyebrows reflexively.
"Why do you always say things like that? With that..." Tim's face scrunches up.
"Tone."
Jason shrugs, smirking at Tim. "What're you up to, replacement?"
"I have a date," Tim says, rather proudly, and it's cute how the kid thinks his
relationship is the most important one there is and, perhaps, will ever be.
Jason clucks his tongue. "Make sure you use protection. I've heard rumors about
how Superboy was made." He gives a low whistle. "Better safe than sorry."
Tim frowns at him. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he says
primly. But as he turns to go, Jason sees him typing away furiously on his
phone.
Pleased, Jason makes his way out of the manor.
~
“Grayson is staying over,” Damian tells Alan, offhand, as he flips through a
book.
Rolling his eyes, Alan takes the book--as it is, in fact, Alan’s book--and
tosses it onto his bed. “Your boyfriend is hot,” he says, and waits for Damian
to respond.
Damian’s face is inscrutable for a moment, but then he glares at Alan. “He is
mine,” he warns.
Alan shakes his head. “He’s a human being.”
“-tt-” But Damian is frowning down at the floor now. Damian is considering it.
“I know that,” he says. His expression has softened by the time he looks back
at Alan. “It’s none of your business.”
“You’re lucky I like him,” Alan responds, annoyed.
Damian hums, but he doesn’t disagree.
~
"You really think this is a good idea, B?" Jason asks. He lights his cigarette,
his bare leg still draped over one of Bruce's, takes a long drag.
"No," Bruce admits, and he takes Jason's cigarette and puts it out on Jason's
worn bed frame, crushing it. "But I want you there."
"Why?" Jason asks, and he's already pulling out another cigarette, as if
nothing has happened. "Feel bad that I got the short end of the stick as a
kid?"
Bruce sighs. "It was only an offer, Jason. I thought you might want to go."
Jason hesitates, but he lights his new cigarette, puffs on it for a while. "Not
sure I have the right outfit for that kinda thing anyway."
“I could have something made.”
There’s a moment where Jason is frozen, thinking of how to respond. He realizes
that Bruce doesn’t ask him what a normal person would--what someone might need
if they’re offering to buy someone else expensive fitted clothing. “I thought
you’d need my measurements, but I’m sure you have them memorized.” He smirks,
if for no one but himself.
“Mm.” It’s only a noise, barely worthy of the word “syllable,” but it means
“yes” and Jason knows it. As if to distract--or, perhaps, emphasize--the
meanings to be found behind that little noise, Bruce places a too-tender kiss
to Jason’s shoulder. “Just a thought,” he says.
Jason nods. An alarm sounds and Bruce is dressing and rushing and Jason is
pretending he’s not about to head right out there with him, to make sure Gotham
is safe despite all his bravado.
Bruce is about to disappear. Jason can tell, can sense it. “Do it,” he grits
out, and even though Bruce is gone when he turns his head to where the man
should be, he thinks he’s been heard. It would be easier if he hadn’t been, if
he could pretend he didn’t want to go, to be by Bruce’s side again--and not in
a life-or-death situation, he hopes, or just sex... It’d be easier if it was
just sex, but Jason is pretty sure there’s no way it ever could’ve been, even
if he had tried to convince himself the first dozen or so times they had hooked
up.
The rest of him would be crushed if Bruce thought he had rejected the
invitation.
A week later, a bespoke suit--perfect for Jason, of course--arrives at his
door. And Jason can’t help the smile that comes at this confirmation. It’s
replaced quickly by concern as he remembers all of those things about their
relationship he can’t define without feeling lost.
~
Bruce can tell that Dick is uncomfortable with his presence lately, but he
isn't certain why.
He doesn't know if he should be worried or leave it well enough alone. It's
nothing life-threatening, nothing earth-shattering. Dick is acting like a
teenager caught thinking about sex.
Bruce can remember when that was indeed the case, but it's odd to think of,
long ago as it was now.
A couple of years before Bruce had even found a boy trying to steal the
Batmobile's tires.
Bruce knows the suit will fit. He can picture it, but he also knows it will be
nothing compared to seeing it.
He allows Dick his little secrets in deference to his own.
Dick has never been able to hide things for long.
~
“Dami,” Dick whines. “Dami--” He hisses out a breath, leans in for another
kiss, then manages to pry himself away, even as Damian chases his bottom lip
with a nip.
Damian is still grinding mindlessly against him, desperate for friction.
“We ha-- ah, ah!” Dick tries to lift his hips, but Damian’s legs are wrapped
tight around his, keeping him down.
“Grayson,” Damian murmurs, and he’s out of breath. His pupils are dilated and
he’s flushed, his cheeks splotchy. He’s barely coherent. Dick can see it in his
expression.
Dick tries to ignore how much he wants to come. He tries to ignore how fucking
hot Damian is underneath him.
He cups Damian’s cheek and Damian makes this little grunting sound, body still
hitching upwards.
Dick kisses him.
Dick gives in.
Dick always gives in.
~
The gala is going as well as can be expected.
It had been awkward, showing up at the manor in his suit. Jason had been hoping
everyone would be out. Hell, most of the batkids are now bat-adults. Even the
replacement has graduated from college--if only so that he could attend even
more college.
Jason is trying very hard to pretend the feeling is annoyance and not envy over
Tim’s education. Only Damian had seen him in his suit, thankfully.
At least here at the gala, the only thing Jason really envies is the ability to
be with someone. Publicly and openly.
Not that-- not that Jason wants that with Bruce. That would be…
It would be…
Really nice, his brain supplies, and he stamps out that thought like the fire
it is in the dry brush of his mind.
He and Bruce are just supposed to be “colleagues” or “associates” or whatever
it is that Bruce keeps supplying to the rich people filling a high-ceilinged
ballroom that is just beautiful...and that Jason is certain people have been
murdered in. They are in Gotham, after all.
After a couple of glasses of champagne, Jason decides that the least he can do
is make a game of it.
“This is my friend and colleague, Jason,” Bruce introduces, choosing not to
supply a surname.
Jason waits until Bruce has turned ever-so-slightly back towards the
socialites, although their attention remains on Bruce Wayne’s mysterious
companion. He lifts his fist to his mouth, jabbing his tongue into his cheek as
he mimes a blowjob.
Although an old man’s mouth opens in shock and his adult son lets out a snort
of what just might be amusement, it’s the older woman that Jason is most
pleased with. The older woman’s eyes widen comically and she--get this--
clutches her pearls with a gasp. It’s absolutely perfect. Jason could not have
even hoped for a more stereotypical reaction. Just as quickly as it happens,
however, Bruce is focusing back on him and Jason has to cough into his raised
fist as cover. He smiles as sweetly as he can--it probably comes off two shades
too far--and Bruce has to school his expression into something resembling
vaguely confused colleague rather than “mad dad.” Not that Jason doesn’t see
that just below the surface, giving him terrible ideas.
Bruce doesn’t give him a verbal warning and Jason knows the man can’t have
forgotten by the time they’re moving on to the next rich weirdo, but now he
wants something from it.
“This is--” Bruce starts, after his own introduction.
“Jason,” Jason supplies. “Or as Brucie here likes to call me: ‘honey buns.’” He
winks, borderline lascivious.
Bruce forces a long laugh. “He’s my new assistant,” he explains. “What a
wonderful sense of humor.”
Jason has snatched up a canape and is chomping away, so he just raises his
eyebrows in lieu of a response.
The two women look somewhat skeptical, but they seem to accept Bruce’s lie and
Jason supposes it’s for the best.
This time, Bruce says, “Jason,” in his dad voice, in his Batman voice.
Jason is more pleased than anyone should be.
He lets the full round of greetings finish this time, grinning as he says,
“Associate. Escort.” Jason shrugs. “Same diff, right? Either way, he’s paying
me.”
The old man just shrugs back and Jason is slightly skeeved, but amused
nonetheless.
Bruce drags Jason to the side, careful to hide his firm grip on Jason’s elbow.
“Finally,” Jason says on an exhale. He glances over to the exit. “I think
there’s a restroom that way just itching to be christened.”
“Jason,” Bruce chides.
“Bruce,” Jason teases.
They’re at a stalemate for a moment, neither willing to back down, but it’s
Jason who simply arches an eyebrow and Bruce who lets himself be led into a
bathroom with questionable intent.
It’s not as if they aren’t careful. Stealth is a part of their everyday lives,
after all.
They wait.
As soon as the chance arises, they’re glued to each other in a stall--luckily
just as fancy as the rest of the place, with little room for peeping despite
its somewhat public location--in the darkly lit restroom.
Jason had palmed a hundred bucks to the blind attendant as an apology and now
has legs wrapped tightly around Bruce’s waist--because Bruce can handle it.
Jason manages to tear open Bruce’s shirt with one determined hand and a button
snaps against the wall, clatters to the floor.
Bruce just glares, unwilling to possibly out himself with a verbal reprimand.
Jason just smashes his face into Bruce’s and does his best to grind against
him. It isn’t like he can’t feel how hard Bruce is for him already. Right now,
Jason very much does not regret fingering himself before he put on the suit--
just in case, he had decided. It’ll make things much easier.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs, and his fingers deftly undo Bruce’s slacks. Bruce’s
hands are already on his ass and Jason can almost hear Bruce’s thought process
before he’s yanking Jason’s pants down past the curve, trapping his thighs.
Suits don’t have nearly enough give for these activities and the tearing of
seams is audible in the bathroom. The murmur of voices and music grows louder
and the door must’ve opened, but Jason knows Bruce is past stopping.
Bruce’s fingers feel him and Jason gets just that much more excited when Bruce
lets out a breath--a sound of weakness. Bruce’s finger delves into him and
Jason clenches around it.
“More,” Jason says, hitching his hips. His hand reaches down to stroke Bruce’s
cock as his own strains against his crumpled slacks. He stops to pull a packet
from his pocket and rips it open with his teeth. Maybe he should’ve brought a
condom, but it’s just lube. It’s going to be messy--going back out there slick
with Bruce’s come, sticky as it slides down his thighs. Jason moans overly loud
at the thought.
He wedges his now-slicked hand over Bruce and holds himself up, getting into
the correct position to-- “Nn. Fuck me, daddy.”
Bruce clamps a hand over Jason’s mouth, but he obeys, even as Jason plants
sloppy kisses on his palm.
Jason shifts his hips, uses his legs for leverage, to get himself fucked as
best he can.
Someone coughs loudly--and very purposefully--but they ignore it.
Or, rather, Jason gets off on the fact that some high society douchebag is made
uncomfortable by his sexcapade. He suspects that Bruce likes it, too, if the
way Bruce turns them, presses Jason’s back to the stall door and fucks him
harder, is anything to go by.
The lock rattles threateningly, ready to give out and have them tumbling onto
the tiles. Bruce’s hand moves, grabs hold of the space where the door and the
frame of the stall meet, trying to hold the thing together just one moment
longer.
Jason crushes his mouth to Bruce’s, groaning into the kiss as Bruce fucks him,
shifting himself just so until--
Bruce stops breathing--doesn’t make a goddamn sound--as he comes. He uses his
hips to keep Jason pinned in place for the second it takes him to move his hand
from Jason’s ass to Jason’s dick, jerking him off, making a mess of that new
suit he’d bought for his former partner.
Jason can see it in Bruce’s face: the moment Bruce realizes what they’ve done,
where they’ve done it. They disentangle their bodies.
“Alright, B?” Jason murmurs, stiffly finding the floor with his feet. He
glances down and grimaces at his clothes. If he buttons his suit jacket, it
should hide the stains well enough. He tries to clean himself up, to be
somewhat presentable, but he hopes that he still looks like he’s just been
fucked.
After all, it’s the truth.
Bruce has checked the bathroom, is shoving Jason out towards the sinks and
fixing his hair. Bruce, of course, looks perfect.
Jason shakes his head. Bruce isn’t perfect--Bruce let him die.
Jason’s thighs are sticky.
The rest of the night is spent in delicious discomfort.
...But Jason doesn’t let Bruce take him home.
~
Dick peers in through the window, hoping to find Damian. He’s got a hoodie on
over his costume and he hopes that’s enough to keep his identity concealed.
He finds the wrong pair of eyes staring back at him.
Dick thinks about ducking, about dropping down to the ground and hiding, but
that...might be a little weird.
So he waves instead and Alan only looks a bit wary as he comes to open the
window.
“Hi,” Dick greets. “Um. Is Damian around? He doesn’t have class on Thursday
nights. I thought. Well--”
Alan saves him. “He went to meet a friend.”
Dick looks utterly baffled for a second and Alan smiles at him.
“Yeah, that’s how I felt, too. But I guess if he could get someone like you…”
Alan trails off, shrugs. “I think he said he was going to meet his friend
Colin?” he suggests.
Oh. Dick nods. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Alan.” He glances down. “I’ll just...go,
then.”
Alan glances around. “I guess you could stay, if you wanted. He’ll probably be
back later--not that he told me.”
Dick hovers in indecision for a moment, briefly notices Alfred curled up at the
foot of Alan’s bed, but moves on. Alan has made him a kind offer, but he was
here to surprise Damian, to ask him out...on patrol. He should probably be on
the streets already. He shakes his head. “Thanks-- Again.” He hopes that his
smile is enough to keep Alan from alerting the authorities about his teenage
roommate’s old-ass boyfriend creeping at their window late at night.
“没问题,” Alan replies, waving him off. The second Dick is out of sight, however--
and Alan checks--he’s murmuring to himself, “那么奇怪.”
Dick hears him anyway, hanging his head in embarrassment.
Well, it could’ve gone worse, he guesses.
~
Jason pulls a handful and little packets from his pocket--a bunch of loose
condoms of different varieties taken from an LGBT center he had once donated to
with stolen money. He shoves them into Damian’s hand. “Here.”
Damian tries to hand them back, and he is blushing, although he hides it well.
“No need,” he tells Jason.
Jason raises an eyebrow. “You may be a virgin”--Damian looks outraged, opening
his mouth to respond, but Jason continues--“but our little Dickie-bird has
gotten around.” He looks at Damian hard, but Damian holds his indignance,
despite the embarrassment and some jealousy, too--that Jason can see clear as
day.
“I am well aware of Grayson’s past lovers,” Damian informs him.
Jason is pretty sure Damian knows less than he’d ever admit, but he’s not going
to grill him on it. “Uh-huh,” he says, disbelieving. “Look, I just want you to
be safe about this. Don’t wanna get chlamydia your first time out.” It’s half-
joke and half-warning, his genuine concern hopefully evident.
“I know,” Damian tells him, indignant but still just as embarrassed. This whole
conversation is probably torture for him and Jason is only somewhat pleased
with this. He’s banging the boy’s dad, but that doesn’t make him Damian’s
parent. Although he and Talia-- Well, that’s beside the point.
“You ‘know’?” Jason asks.
Damian starts to falter, but he juts his chin up in false bravado to hide it.
“Yes,” he affirms. “I had him tested.”
Jason can’t help cracking a wry smile at that. “Alright,” he accepts. “Good.”
He realizes that Damian is still trying to hand the condoms back and he waves
him off. “Keep ’em. Just in case.”
“I--”
“Geez,” Jason says. “For my sake, alright? Wouldn’t want Bruce to think I’d
been negligent.”
“My father doesn’t need to know.”
Jason smirks. “Doesn’t mean he won’t.”
“-tt-” Reluctantly, Damian tucks the packets away.
There’s a silence that falls then and Jason wonders about Damian. He wonders
hard enough that he can’t help voicing a question.
“And, uh. What do you think about me?” The implication hangs heavy in the air
and Jason can see that Damian knows what he means, can tell by the way Damian
does not react. There’s no concern. No confusion.
“What does it matter?” Damian asks, but it’s not really a question.
It’s a bit disappointing as far as reactions go, but Jason is relieved
nonetheless. “Alright, kiddo.” He ruffles Damian’s hair and Damian swats at
him, but Damian could have stopped him had he truly been averse. It’s
affection, and Jason is happy.
Despite all of his insecurities, Jason has been happy a lot recently.
~
It’s probably why his little fantasy world has to come crashing down now.
They’re in the same alley where they met when it happens. The same alley Thomas
and Martha Wayne had died in.
Jason’s fingers are caked with dried blood and Bruce’s gloved hand is tight
around his throat.
“No killing,” Bruce--no, not Bruce, Batman--grits out, low and angry.
“Little late for that again, isn’t it?” And Jason is smirking. In reality, he’s
exhausted. There will be bruises underneath his jacket, his jeans. Maybe worse-
-his shoulder feels sticky against the cotton of his t-shirt and it hurts to
lift his arm, but he’s not about to let on.
It had ended up more kill-or-be-killed than Jason would’ve liked. He’d rather
not die again, not without-- He sucks in a breath as Batman’s grip slams him
back against the bricks.
“What’re you gonna do, B? Lock me up?” He raises an eyebrow. He’s struggling to
focus. His head is ringing from Bruce’s force, the rest of his body trying to
stay upright.
Bruce is breathing hard. “If I have to.”
He gives Jason a hard shove and then he’s disappearing into the night like he
is wont to do.
Jason uses the bricks to keep himself stable, at least until he’s sure Bruce
has really left him there.
Left you to die again, his subconscious murmurs. “Shut up,” Jason grunts, to no
one, but he’s just about past caring. If it didn’t feel like he had to, he
wouldn’t do it, but with Roy and Kori unavailable, Jason taps into the bat comm
line. “Oracle?”
“Jason, what is--”
“Help.”
Two capes--one black and one purple--arrive to find him unconscious and haul
him to the family’s preferred doctor.
~
Bruce closes himself off--more than usual.
Batman is more brutal, although the family can see his regret in the tiniest of
grimaces after he’s pushed a perp too far.
Bruce spends more time in the gym than he has in years, alone with his thoughts
and the unfortunate equipment that must put up with the brunt of his anger.
“Anything you need, sir?” Alfred asks from the doorway. When Bruce doesn’t
respond, he huffs a sigh. “I’ll leave your lunch by the weights,” he adds, in a
way that says Bruce had better eat, should he not wish to incur Alfred’s wrath.
This time, Bruce grunts in reply.
“He is not the rebellious young man he once was,” Alfred says and, with that,
he stalks out with the purposefully crisp click of his shoes.
There is a second of hesitation before Bruce lands a particularly hard strike
to the punching bag in front of him.
~
“Have you recovered?” Damian asks, feigning indifference as he pulls on his
gloves.
Bruce isn’t supposed to be in the cave tonight. He stays silent, but he is
somewhat surprised when he hears the voice that responds.
“Good as new,” Jason brags, then hisses in pain.
Bruce had just barely seen Damian reach out to jab Jason before he secrets
himself completely out of sight.
“-tt-” Bruce hears footsteps and holds his breath.
“Nearly,” Jason amends. “But I can’t let you go out there alone.”
“I can take care of myself.” There’s a pause. “I don’t want to take care of
you, too.”
Jason chuckles. “Still,” he says, and Bruce can hear the strain, the persuasion
Jason presses into his speech. “Oughtta keep you company.”
The moment stretches and Bruce wonders if they’ve discovered his presence, but
then he hears Damian sigh.
“If you must, Todd.”
“Oh, I must,” Jason tells him.
They leave soon after and Bruce is left feeling somewhat out of the loop--
something he isn’t too familiar with. He searches for any recent records on
Jason or any of his aliases and finds that there are scans and X-rays. He looks
through them and his heart might just stop beating.
That night…
Back in the alley. When he and Jason-- When he had been so angry--is still
angry when he thinks about it--
Now, though. Now he might be angry with himself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, without turning.
Alfred sets a cup of chamomile tea down in front of the console. “You are quite
stubborn when you wish to be, Master Bruce.”
Bruce half-smirks to himself. Alfred is right. He’d been so upset with what he
had thought--had assumed--that he hadn’t considered any other options.
It had been so brash, so… But it was Jason. The way Jason fits into Bruce’s
calculations is often flawed, clouded by his conflicting emotions.
His fingers tighten around the handle of the teacup, remembering the way he’d
just shoved Jason against the wall. Bruce doesn’t know if the crack that
resounds through his mind is real or imagined. He doesn’t quite wince, but
Alfred’s hand on his shoulder tells him that the other man knows his thoughts
just as surely as if he had shouted them.
Bruce considers going out to find Robin and Red Hood, but it’s too soon. He’s
supposed to be in Metropolis tonight.
~
It’s a few days later when Bruce “accidentally” finds Jason.
There’s a tension in Jason’s entire body when he sees him, like he’s frozen in
place. Bruce doesn’t know if it’s fear--that crack against the brick--or just
uncertainty.
He hates not knowing.
Carefully, he confesses to what little he can. “Are you alright?” he asks,
knowing that Jason can’t have recovered fully yet, knowing that Jason can’t be
and trying to communicate that knowledge to Jason.
Jason is likely surprised, but Bruce can’t tell through the damn red helmet.
“Sure,” Jason responds, confidence forced. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Jay--”
“So does the ‘no real names’ thing apply to everyone but me?” Jason interrupts,
defensive.
It’s then that Bruce realizes he should’ve started off with an apology. They
don’t come naturally not to him, not when it’s about something like this. “I…”
He steps closer and Jason’s posture changes, readying to fight or flee. “I’m
sorry.”
“For using my name?” Jason asks, doubt creeping into the front he puts up.
Bruce frowns. “For the alley,” he says. “I didn’t know.”
Jason scoffs, finally prying the helmet off to reveal a domino mask underneath.
“Really? The Batman isn’t omniscient?” He gives a low whistle. “Coulda fooled
me.”
Jason’s sarcasm may be heavy-handed, but Bruce isn’t annoyed. “I know you’ve
been better.”
Jason runs a hand through his hair, letting out a derisive laugh. “‘Better,’”
he repeats. “Right.”
Bruce sighs. There’s nothing he says that can’t be twisted. “What can I do?” he
asks--implores.
Finally, a smirk appears, filled with mischief rather than scorn. “Bet I can
think of something,” he says.
Somehow, they make it back to Jason’s bedroom in the manor first. Bruce had
seen signs of him since the holiday season had begun, but Jason had never been
anywhere to be found when he’d been looking.
Bruce leaves when an alert sounds for a robbery downtown and Jason, thankfully,
stays home to rest. Bruce wants Jason to fully recover, but he misses working
with him. It had almost become routine again before the alley.
He likes Jason at his side.
~
Bruce’s phone rings at six in the morning, some journalist asking for a comment
about the morning’s paper.
Luckily, it hadn’t been Pyg but an imitation and he’d made it home to sleep two
hours previous. It doesn’t make the sudden barrage of questions on the other
end of the line any more pleasant, however.
“What about my son?” Bruce asks. He pulls up a local tabloid online and no
longer needs what little sleep he had desired. “No comment,” he adds quickly.
He hangs up the phone even as the noise grows through the speaker. He’s an
expert at looking polished when he needs to, even if sex and sweat and the
grime of a factory should still be clinging to him from the night’s escapades.
Alfred is at his door when he pulls it open, holding a tray of toast and
coffee--the kind of breakfast a day like this requires.
It can be figured out. He’ll just have to spend his day writing checks and
spinning lies. He hasn’t had that kind of workout in a while.
Everyone else can get some well-earned rest first. After all, it’s Christmas.
~
The kisses are soft, as if Jason is breakable.
“I’ve been broken,” Jason says. “I always get better.”
Without looking, he can still feel Bruce’s frown and bites down Bruce’s
jawline. He ruts his hips against Bruce’s and is rewarded by the forceful grasp
of Bruce’s hands on his ass.
Jason knows that Bruce is avoiding all of the issues surrounding that other
Batman and Robin team that got too close and Jason is happy to be his
distraction.
It’s not like Jason hadn’t seen the pictures. It’s not like he hadn’t known.
~
Damian calls Dick and Dick tries not to have a heart attack.
“He’s going to kill me,” Dick says. “I know he’s got that no-kill thing, but
he’s going to kill me.”
“-tt-” comes the sound from the other end of the line. “Grayson, don’t be
absurd.”
“I’m dead,” Dick announces.
There’s silence. Then, Damian says, “I’m coming over.”
The call ends and Dick Grayson spends the next ten minutes seriously
considering relocation, perhaps with the help of some other heroes as the
government would be of no use against Batman’s resources. Someone has to have
some sort of backup plan in case of emergencies.
Damian opens the door without knocking and Dick wonders, if ever so briefly,
when Damian had made himself a key before realizing the question is pointless.
“Damian,” Dick says, and he shouldn’t sound so relieved, but some small part of
his brain had feared The Talk he knows must be coming for him soon would arrive
with Damian.
“Grayson, stop being so dramatic,” Damian tells him, unwrapping his scarf and
pulling Dick in for a kiss. “Father worries more for your safety than mine,” he
explains seriously.
“That can’t be right,” Dick says, but a part of him remembers the difficulty
Bruce had had accepting Damian into his life, in simply trusting his own son.
Although he and Bruce hadn’t been on the best of terms when he had chosen to
drop out of college, that was a long time ago now. Even then, Bruce had only
been upset because of how much he wanted Dick to succeed. Dick swallows down
these thoughts. “No,” he affirms. “I’m the predator here.”
“He told me not to harm you,” Damian tells him, no hint of humor or deceit. He
blinks as Dick’s defensive smile falters.
“Ha,” Dick forces out. “As if you could.”
Damian eyes him carefully, but takes Dick’s hand and starts leading him to the
door with little fuss. “Come,” he says. “I need you to wrap everything.”
This time, Dick’s laugh is real.
~
Kon has finally made it to Gotham after spending the holidays with his own
family and Tim thinks he can forget about the terrible thing he has witnessed.
In fact, when Kon is dancing with him to some song on the radio, singing along
even though he doesn’t know the words, Dick and Damian are the last thing on
his mind.
He doesn’t think about it when his phone rings, just answers the thing.
“I saw the picture online!” Miguel is shouting.
It takes a moment for Tim’s brain to catch up, but when it does, his face
falls.
Kon looks concerned until Tim gestures to the pile of newspapers on his desk.
“As if we need that type of scandal...” Tim starts, and he falls back on his
bed.
“It’s almost cute,” Miguel tells him from the other end of the line. “I mean,
I’ve never thought of that boy as happy before, but did you see the shot of
them walking down the street together? Damian was smiling.”
“Ugh. Why are you telling me this?” Tim frowns. “Wait. How many pictures of
them are there?”
“Shouldn’t you already know?” Miguel chides, but then he’s humming and Tim is
certain that he’s scrolling and clicking and looking.
“So?” he prompts. Kon flops down next to him with a newspaper in hand. Tim
adjusts his position, rests his head on Kon’s stomach.
“Only, like,” Miguel sighs, “five or six? There’s a rumor about Nightwing and
Robin, too, but luckily no actual evidence.”
“The rumor’s bad enough,” Tim whines and his pillow starts to move. He shifts
to look at Kon and finds his boyfriend grinning and then full-on laughing, the
newspaper tossed to his side.
Tim swats at Kon--like it does anything--and Kon grabs Tim’s hand and kisses
it.
“It’s not funny,” Tim says, glaring.
“Um.” Kon is pulling Tim up to cuddle with him. “Totally funny. Hilarious,
even. I--”
Tim puts his hand over Kon’s mouth and Kon licks it. “Gross!” He shifts to
straddle Kon and then he hears it: the shouting coming from his accidentally
abandoned cell phone. He picks it up, shouting back, “Sorry, sorry!”
Miguel stops yelling and sighs. “Since this has obviously turned into some
weird foreplay thing for you two, I’m going to hang up now. Have fun!”
“Bye,” Tim replies, grimacing. He checks that the call has ended before he
looks back down at Kon, who raises an eyebrow.
“Well,” Kon starts. “He’s not wrong.”
Tim opens his mouth to retort with something to the contrary, but Kon leans up
to kiss him and he chases it until it turns into something else.
~
It’s a surprise when Bruce shows up in Jason’s apartment, but it’s no surprise
where it leads.
Jason holds Bruce down and rides him until they’re both sweaty and sated.
Everything is going pretty well, all things considered.
But...Bruce has never been any good at pillow talk, and this time is no
exception. Jason had been dreading it since Christmas, but the fact that he’d
avoided it for multiple days felt like a monumental success. He’d like to
believe it’s thanks to his ability to switch off the cognitive part of Bruce’s
brain.
“Dick... He and Damian...” Bruce is cringing. He can’t stop cringing. This is
the most awkward conversation he’s ever attempted. His sons… His… It’s a family
thing.
Although it will only raise more questions, Jason spares Bruce from saying it.
“I know.”
Bruce looks at him and Jason looks down at the mattress. “How long?” Bruce
asks, and Jason knows there are two questions there. How long has it been going
on? How long has Jason known?
“Kid’s had a crush on him since the dawn of time,” Jason replies.
Bruce grunts in response and Jason continues.
“I’ve known that for probably just as long. Damian isn’t exactly subtle when it
comes to Dickie,” he adds, glancing at Bruce. “As for...whatever else they’ve
got going. I, uh, I’ve known for a while. Made sure Damian was being safe.”
Well, he tried, at least.
“Jason--”
“What?” Jason asks, propping himself up on his elbow. “I should’ve told you?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not mine to tell.”
Bruce makes a noise, something between a huff and a hum.
Jason can’t help it. The words slip out like they could never have been kept
caged. “Got our own dirty little secrets, don’t we.” Despite the phrasing, it’s
not a question.
Bruce wouldn’t have answered anyway.
~
Dick waits until Damian’s roommate leaves to kiss the back of Damian’s neck in
greeting. “Morning,” he murmurs, and his leg is trapped between Damian’s but he
doesn’t dare try to move it yet.
Damian makes a not-quite-awake noise of protest when Dick reaches over him for
his phone, and Dick presses more kisses into his hair and next to his ear and
Damian grumbles again, but he leans into it.
He’s pretty sure Damian’s RA has a crush on him, otherwise they would’ve likely
reported a full-grown man nearing thirty sleeping over in the dorms as often as
he does.
It probably also has something to do with the fact that Alan likes Dick more
than Damian, which seems like a terribly mean thing to think, but Dick doubts
that Damian would actually be offended by such an idea. If Alan were to report
something, it’d probably be the fact that Damian once got bored and did his
homework for him. That had been the maddest Dick had ever seen him.
Dick has a few messages from Barbara, but nothing concerning so he lets his
phone drop back down on the nightstand and his arm curl protectively around
Damian’s chest.
Dick is certain that the others would be surprised to learn how much Damian
likes cuddling, but it’s a nice little secret--between them and Alan, he
supposes.
“What time is it?” Damian asks, and Dick knows that he is refusing to open his
eyes. Dick doubts that Damian will ever be a morning person, given his penchant
for the night and their continued heroic presence.
Dick had just looked at his phone, but already the knowledge is gone. He
grunts, struggles to pick it up again, making Damian whine into the pillow his
face gets shoved into in the process. “Nine-fifteen,” he announces, still
squishing Damian, but he rolls off soon enough.
Damian huffs.
Dick knows his first class isn’t until eleven, but Damian likes a shower,
breakfast, the chance to feed Alfred, and--recently--a morning fuck before he
must be on his way. Dick can help with most of those things, when he doesn’t
choose laziness instead. Based on the way Damian has begun idly grinding back
against him, it’s clear that his--ahem--assistance is desired.
Palm facing downwards, Dick’s fingers crawl Damian’s spine, dipping into the
crevice of his ass to find him still slick from lube and from him the night
before. It had only been five hours since, after all. Dick presses a finger in
and Damian shoves his face back into his pillow, fumbles for the little bottle
between the mattress and the bed frame and shoves it into Grayson’s face in the
hopes of getting his message across.
“Do you want me in you?” Dick murmurs into Damian’s hair and feels the nod more
than he sees it. He feels himself twitch, excited at the prospect, at what he
can already feel around his now two fingers. It’s awkward for a moment, as he
struggles to open the lube without disrupting their position, but he manages.
He doesn’t pull his fingers out so much as rub the stretch of Damian’s hole
around them.
Damian thrusts back against Dick’s hand, greedy for it, and Dick presses a kiss
to Damian’s shoulder, scissors his fingers. This isn’t their first time by any
means, but it’s still fairly new.
There’s still a twinge of guilt as Dick thinks about fucking a sixteen-year-old
that he’s supposed to protect, but Damian’s voice is there, too, telling him
that this is what he wants, reminding his conscience that Damian could die
again--and soon, despite his age. It’s not a good thought, but it’s their
reality. There’s happiness to be found here.
Damian whines--still not ready for words yet--and Dick acquiesces, pumping his
fingers in a couple more times for good measure, or rather, for the way he can
make Damian squirm. He slicks his cock, kneeling between Damian’s thighs only
for long enough to position himself, to slide into Damian’s body in one smooth
stroke.
Damian presses back against him, raising his ass up as the rest of his body
remains lazy and lax. “Come on, Dami,” Dick murmurs. “You’re making me feel
like a creep.”
With a sigh, Damian props himself up, moves with the rhythm of Dick’s body
until Dick starts fucking him harder like he likes, until he can allow himself
to collapse back down knowing that Dick will fuck him into the mattress.
“Come for me, Grayson,” Damian says, his first words of the day, and Dick does,
hips pistoning as he finds his release.
Damian reaches back to clutch Dick, to ensure that Grayson stays in him. His
hand moves to his cock and he jerks himself in quick, sure strokes and then
he’s falling over the edge and back into the grip of his bed with Grayson on
top of him.
Dick huffs an amused sigh. “Ten more minutes?” he asks.
Damian nods.
~
“I wonder if Bruce still thinks I’m too young for one-on-one training sessions
like he does with Jason. They seem intense. Jason is always bruised and out-of-
breath when he leaves, but I guess they’re getting along now.” Tim shrugs,
scanning through information on his phone as he speaks. He looks up only when
Stephanie makes a few weird noises and manages to see the exact moment she
can’t stand it anymore and bursts out laughing.
She laughs so hard she chokes, hand clutching her chest and tears streaming
down her face.
“What?” Tim huffs. He hates when she’s like this.
Stephanie holds out a hand until she manages to catch her breath. “Are you
kidding me, Rob?” She coughs.
“What?” Tim asks again. He thinks back on his last words and frowns. “No,” he
says. “No, I’m not kidding.” He stares at Stephanie for a moment, her mask is
pulled down so that she can shove french fries--that she stole from him--into
her mouth. “Wait. Do you think Jason-- and-- and Bruce? No.” He shakes his
head. “I mean, I know that he and Catwoman used to be a thing, but not him and
Jason. Jason was his Robin! That’s-- That’s--”
“Not that unusual, it seems?” Stephanie suggests, tilting her head towards the
commotion that’s just begun below them. It’s only one guy, but it’s Nightwing
and Robin who take him down fast.
“Ugh.”
Stephanie leans forward, so far that she just might fall off of that rooftop if
she doesn’t pay attention--not that she isn’t trained now, Tim knows that, but
he also remembers when she was just the girl who followed him around trying to
play hero, remembers when she d-- didn’t make it. “Do you think they’re gonna?”
She raises an eyebrow at Tim and Tim recoils in horror.
“I saw them doing it once. I don’t ever want to see it again.” And yet Tim
Drake is nothing if not curious. He turns his head only partially away, but his
eyes drift back to the scene, thankfully sheltered by his lenses.
Stephanie is too busy blatantly staring at Nightwing and Robin to bother with
Tim’s coy act--which becomes less and less so as the events unfold below.
“In an alley?” he says, without thinking. “That’s gross.”
Stephanie gives a little half-shrug. “I dunno. All costumed up, adrenaline from
the fight...” She turns to grin at Tim as it hits her. “I thought you weren’t
gonna watch?”
Tim flushes, flustered. “I just don’t want them to-- to reveal their
identities--again--and put all of us at risk.
“Pfft.” Stephanie chuckles. “If people don’t know who we are yet, it’s gotta be
because they don’t want to know. I mean, most of us have died and come back
again. That’s gotta be a little bit suspicious.”
“Jason never came back,” Tim says.
Stephanie looks at him.
“Legally, I mean.” Tim huffs, glad that Dick seems to have decided it’s not the
time for dirty alleyway sex, despite Stephanie’s groan of disappointment.
“But he is...” Stephanie starts slowly, and Tim dreads where she’s going,
“boning the Batman.”
“No,” Tim disagrees, harsh, but he can’t actually rule out the possibility.
“Why not?”
“Batman--the real Batman--” he corrects when Stephanie clears her throat
pointedly, “would never. I would know.”
“Like you knew about them, Boy Wonder?”
Tim glares and hopes it comes across as scathing as he wants it to be. “I
didn’t want to know. I don’t want to know.”
“Just like you don’t want to know that the Red Hood and Batman are probably
fucking right this very moment?”
“Ugh. Shut up, Steph,” Tim returns, with a not-too-gentle shove.
Stephanie just grins at him. “Speaking of fucking...”
“I’m not telling you what Kon’s dick is like. I don’t know how many times I
have to say that.”
“Come on, Rob. It’s not like you don’t tell me about the actual sex. If you
keep not telling me, I’m going to keep assuming Kryptonians have--”
“Spoiler.”
~
“I know I should find this creepy, but it’s kinda hot,” Stephanie announces.
She’s leaning up against the doorframe, sipping a milkshake.
Damian backs off only slightly from where he’s got Dick pressed to “Why are you
here, Brown? I thought you had graduated from my father’s academy of misfit
youths.”
“Ouch. Is that a self-burn?” she retorts, but she’s smiling. “Don’t worry. I’m
not here for you--either of you. I’m waiting for Cass.” She holds up a bag of
food in explanation.
“Cass is here?” Dick asks, surprised. “I didn’t even know she was back.”
“She’s quiet,” Stephanie says, smiling. She tilts her head ever-so-slightly and
Dick turns to see Cassandra has appeared behind him.
Dick tries not to blush, but he’s still not sure how to react about this whole
him-and-Damian thing in front of the family. “Hey,” he says, tries to ignore
the way that Damian hasn’t really let go of him.
Cassandra nods to Dick and Damian, smiles when her gaze travels to Stephanie.
Someone clears their throat and the four of them turn to see Alfred. “If you
are not eating or cooking, perhaps you should leave the kitchen.” He glares
particularly hard at Damian, who smirks in response.
“Problem, Pennyworth?” Damian asks, with mock sincerity, and Dick really wishes
he could disappear into thin air. Although it’s always risky in the manor, it’s
one thing for the other members of the family to see him with Damian, but
something else altogether when it comes to Alfred--and Bruce.
“Yikes,” Stephanie whispers. She hooks her arm through Cassandra’s and leads
her out.
Alfred straightens his back--as if he had been slouching before--and spares
Dick a raised eyebrow. “Perhaps, Master Richard, you could teach this beast
some manners instead of the other way around.” It sounds stern, but something
of his amusement is given away in the crinkles around his eyes.
Damian and Alfred seemingly clash, but they love each other fiercely. Dick has
only recently come to see how deep their affections lie beneath barbed words
and feigned annoyance. It is no mystery why Damian had named his beloved cat
after the valet, after all.
Playing it off, Dick shrugs. “I can only do so much.”
“Hmph.” Alfred glares until Damian begrudgingly drags Dick up to what is still
his bedroom, despite his current living situation.
“I’ll understand, you know,” Damian says, once they are alone with the door
closed and locked.
Dick tilts his head, confused. He’s smiling slightly, as if that’s his default
expression. “Understand what?” he asks, and he tries to hold Damian’s hand, but
Damian pulls away.
“If you’re...” Damian seems to really struggle with the next word and Dick
should probably stop smiling already, but it’s frozen in place. “Embarrassed
now that the others know.”
Dick blinks. “What?” His smile has gone somewhat dubious. “Oh. To have them see
us--” His grin finally turns grimace. “Yeah. Aren’t you?”
“I’m not talking about sex, Grayson,” Damian snaps, but Dick can see that he’s
contrite afterwards.
This is serious.
Carefully, Dick pulls Damian close and Damian allows it, remaining stiff in
Dick’s arms.
“‘Embarrassed’?” Dick prompts.
Damian nods. “This was our secret,” he begins, “are you...alright with everyone
knowing?”
It takes a moment for Dick to realize what exactly Damian is asking. “Are you
asking if I’m embarrassed to be with you?” Damian tenses further and Dick
sighs. “Of course I am.” Suddenly, Damian is struggling to get out of his arms,
but Dick won’t let him. “Because I’m old and you deserve better. Not because of
you.” He stares at Damian in the hopes of the boy turning to look at him.
“Dami.” He sighs. “Dami, look at me.”
Eventually, Damian acquiesces, although his eyes refuse to meet Dick’s.
“You’re great, alright? I’m-- I’m happy to be with you. I love you,” and with
that, Damian can’t look at him, “even if it is a crime.”
“-tt-”
~
Jason had fallen asleep in Bruce’s bed. In Bruce’s arms.
When he wakes up, he’s confused, embarrassed, but there’s something so nice
about being held that Jason has tried not to think about.
It seems like Bruce is still asleep. Or, at least, Jason can’t imagine that
Bruce’s arm would be wrapped so securely around him if Bruce were aware of it.
He wants to stay here. He wants to bask in this for a little while longer, but
it feels...wrong. If Bruce wakes up, he’ll know that Jason is awake--that Jason
wants to be held and cared for and--
It’s too vulnerable here in the safety of Bruce’s arms.
Jason wriggles away, tosses on clothes only to hop out the window rather than
take his now usual route out through the front door.
~
Damian is lounging in Dick’s apartment, Alfred with him for the long weekend
and at his side, and feels only a bit creepy watching Damian draw.
It’s not like he can even see what Damian is working on. He just knows that
it’s art and not homework.
Dick eats his cereal slowly, curious.
He looks down when Damian looks up, but he’s not sure why. He’s certain that
Damian already knows he was staring.
“-tt-”
Dick smiles down at his bowl, pretends to be deeply invested in its contents as
he hears Damian pad across the room.
“It’s not you,” Damian announces, tossing his sketchbook onto the table.
Dick can’t help how quickly he glances at it, how quickly he’s picking it up to
start flipping through the pages.
It’s animals, mostly. Nature. Some are in color, but many are just rough pencil
sketches.
“Wow,” and Dick doesn’t even mean to say it. “I never think about you as an
artist.”
Damian makes a small noise--maybe just a startled breath--and snatches the
sketchbook away. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s simply another skill I
have learned from my training.”
“They trained you to do art?” Dick asks, surprised.
Damian doesn’t respond, but he hides his sketchbook away in his messenger bag
to close the subject.
Dick sighs. “Are you hungry?” he asks, and Alfred is trotting over before
Damian can answer. “Alright, buddy,” Dick tells the cat. “I’ll get your
dinner.”
“I will take care of ours,” Damian says.
Dick stares at him a moment. “You can cook, too?”
Damian glares and Dick hides his smile. Dick imagines what it would be like if
Damian were here every night.
~
Jason does his best to quietly slip out the window and away from Bruce. It’s
more natural this way.
They’ve gone back to what they had. They fuck. They argue. Sometimes they even
fight. If there are moments of hesitation--when Jason feels something, almost
says something, or, fuck, Bruce looks like he might--Jason is quick to be the
one to close off and make a joke or a jibe instead.
He’s just landed in the bushes when he catches sight of two people making out
just a few feet away.
Well, one person and one half-Kryptonian.
Although Kon should’ve heard him, it’s Tim who pulls away to look.
“What are you doing here?” Tim asks, perhaps frustrated, but he seems to
compose himself. “I mean. No. Why are you here?” He’s trying to use his Robin
voice, infuse some authority into his question, but Jason can see the way he
shifts awkwardly to hide his erection.
Jason smirks. “What are you doing here?”
“Kon came--”
“Already?” Jason asks, offers a low whistle. “Sorry about that, kid.”
Tim huffs and continues as if Jason hadn’t interrupted. “To give me--”
“Let me guess--”
Tim raises his voice, “To give me a sample to analyze in the Cave’s lab.”
“Among other things,” Kon adds, rewarded by his boyfriend’s look of ultimate
betrayal and Jason’s gleeful approval.
 
~
Tim wonders if he can rig up some sort of warning system--some sort of alarm--
that will keep him from seeing anything horrifying ever again.
Unfortunately, he hasn’t figured it out yet.
He groans and backpedals into his bedroom in the manor. They’re only there for
Alfred’s birthday and Tim had for some reason forgotten why he’d been spending
less time here.
Maybe if he walks really loudly next time, they’ll hear him and he won’t need
to gouge out his own eyes--or figure out a way to erase his memories. All of
them, if he needs to.
“I thought you were getting us something to eat,” Kon says, slightly confused
from his position on the bed. He’s not wearing pants.
Tim isn’t sure if seeing his boyfriend’s dick is the best or worst thing to see
after…that. It’s definitely more pleasant, but he doesn’t want the association
to ruin Kon for him. He just shakes his head.
Kon laughs. “Tim Drake is scared? Of what?”
Tim huffs. “That thing that I don’t want to talk about,” he whines.
With a stretch, Kon appraises Tim’s expression. “Maybe you should be happy for
them.”
Tim scoffs at him. “It’s just…gross.”
Kon shrugs. “Why?”
“Damian is sixteen. Dick is going to be twenty-nine.”
Kon holds up his hands. “Hey, I never said it wasn’t a little bit creepy. I’m
just saying…” He shrugs. “Clark tells me he’s found his soulmate. And you and
me?” He smiles, happy and warm and just for Tim. “I don’t know. I like to think
maybe we’re meant to be.”
Tim doesn’t tell Kon how ridiculous his subconscious finds this whole concept,
instead twining his fingers with Kon’s, pressing their palms together.
“That’s...really sweet,” he admits slowly, knowing the other shoe is about to
drop.
Kon brings the back of Tim’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it, then he
shrugs again. “Maybe they are, too.”
Tim frowns at Kon as if deeply disappointed. “Way to cheapen the moment.”
~
“Richard Grayson.”
Dick freezes. That’s not the sort of tone one takes with anything resembling a
friend. He puts down his donut and looks up at the commissioner. “Good morning,
Commissioner Gordon,” he offers with a smile, but Gordon returns the greeting
with a stern look and takes the seat opposite Dick.
“That boy is a minor,” Gordon says, his voice low and his jaw tensing.
Dick swallows, sits up straighter. “I know.” He can’t really think of anything
else to say.
“I don’t care that he’s out there fighting crimes and risking his life,” Gordon
says, even lower, forcing Dick to lean in to listen. “He’s still a boy.”
Dick nods.
“I can’t just turn a blind eye to the fact that one of Gotham’s most notable
citizens is in a very inappropriate, very public relationship with a sixteen-
year-old boy.” Gordon sighs. “A child.”
Dick can see the commissioner’s hands shaking, clutched together on the table,
and he reaches out to hold onto them. It takes a lot to make Gordon admit to
all he knows, to confront Dick like this. Dick bites his lip, speaking softly
but clearly, “In some ways, he is. But he’s already died, Jim. He’s died and
come back. I should say no to him, sure,” and Dick’s half-smile is sad as he
continues, “but I can’t.” His eyes are downcast, but when he brings them up to
meet Gordon’s, he finds something in the other man quaking apart. There are
words that are too hard to speak, meanings that can’t be properly expressed
through language. They know.
Jim Gordon attempts saving face. He sits up straighter. He pulls his hands
away. “You’re still a criminal,” he murmurs. “Don’t let me see or hear anything
I shouldn’t,” he announces, chair legs scraping the floor as he pushes away
from the table. He disappears with the swish of his trenchcoat.
Dick sighs, goes to pick up his cup only to find his own hand trembling now.
~
A batarang hits the switch and Clark turns to find his friend standing there,
being a shadow of the night as always.
“I thought Jason--” Clark starts.
“He went home,” Bruce cuts him off. Clark can’t hide his emotions well and
Bruce can see the myriad of thoughts rushing through his mind. “He doesn’t
stay.”
Clark glances around, likely checking for any citizens nearby. “Do you want him
to?” he asks, and when Bruce only shifts in discomfort, he adds, “So, ask him.”
He smiles like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Bruce regrets attending Lex Luthor’s fundraiser in Metropolis. Talking to Clark
was sometimes the worst.
What did an alien know about his relationship problems? Especially one so
happily married?
He had almost wanted to discuss it though. At least Clark had known since the
beginning.
~
Stephanie has Cass--willingly--pinned down to the training mat. They’re both
flushed, sweaty, close--
Bruce clears his throat.
Stephanie determinedly does not look at him.
“Stephanie,” he says. “Cassandra.” He’s using his Batman voice and Stephanie
isn’t stupid.
She is, however, willful.
Stephanie turns her head to face him and tosses him a smile. “What’s up, B?”
“This room is for training,” he tells her.
Stephanie rolls off of Cassandra and sits up, grabbing her water bottle and
gulping a fair amount down before she takes a moment to just stare at him.
“Right,” she agrees. “I’m sure you would never do something inappropriate here
on the training mats.”
Bruce huffs.
Cass stands and stretches. “It is better to be truthful, isn’t it?” She wanders
over to a punching bag and starts working on it, removing herself from the
situation.
Bruce offers Stephanie his hand and she tugs him down next to her--or rather,
tugs at Bruce’s hand and he acquiesces.
“Wanna talk?” Stephanie offers, bumping her shoulder into Bruce’s arm.
Bruce is fond of all of them, she knows, but asking him to open up about his
feelings is probably a more difficult proposition than asking him to let the
Joker punch him. Repeatedly.
Stephanie waits what feels like an eternity. “Does anyone else know?”
There’s another moment, long enough that Steph is ready to give up, when the
answer comes. “Alfred.” He clears his throat. “And Clark.”
A laugh bubbles out before Stephanie can stop it, but she schools her features
into something resembling serious and open and non-judgmental. “Okay,” she
says, twitching her fingers in her lap. “That’s a start.”
Bruce shifts uncomfortably.
“It’s okay,” Stephanie says, and perhaps she should be more subtle, but it
isn’t exactly her style. “It’s okay to be happy. You’ll still be the big, scary
Batman to everyone else.” Showing some sense of decorum, lower she adds, “You
can be happy with Jason.”
Bruce tenses at just the verbalization of it. “It’s not that simple.”
“Fine.” She stands up and offers him a hand, hiding her surprise when he
accepts the offer--although he doesn’t make her actually pull him up. “Be that
way.” Her smirk belies her words and Bruce offers her a hint of amusement in
return.
It can’t be that simple.
Stephanie doesn’t tell him that everyone knows. She doubts it would makes
things any easier.
~
Jason has barely climbed in through the window before he’s on all fours halfway
to the bed, jeans dragged down to his thighs as Bruce fucks him.
Eventually, they shift. Jason rolls onto his back and grins as Bruce bends him
in half, his knees hooked over Bruce’s shoulders. It’s a hardship to kiss, to
press themselves thatclose, but one they gladly endure. Jason mouth tastes like
cigarettes and Bruce finds that he doesn’t care because it’sJason.
Bruce hauls Jason into bed, pressing kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his chest
for a long time afterward.
“I guess I better--” Jason starts, tries to get up.
Bruce almost allows him to go, almost lets another opportunity go past. “Do you
want to stay?” he asks.
Jason freezes. “What-- In the manor? No, it’s okay, I can…” Bruce seems to be
holding his breath, staring at Jason. Jason isn’t sure what to make of it.
“Would you like to stay here?” Bruce asks. He clears his throat. “With me.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Jason tells him. “I’m not expecting the perfect
gentleman or anything. I mean, how many times have we done this? It’s gotta be
in the hundreds now.” His smirk is strained, but he hopes Bruce accepts it.
“You don’t have to--” Bruce starts, and Jason has never seen him so awkward.
“Not if you don’t want to.” He squeezes Jason’s hand. “I want you to stay.”
“Just this time?” Jason asks, sounding suddenly small.
Bruce shrugs. “Every time.”
“Maybe,” Jason says, but this time it sounds like yes.
~
Everyone is at breakfast the next morning.
Kon seems blissfully unaware of how awkward it all is, slathering butter on a
biscuit and shoving it into his mouth. He looks over when Tim’s phone buzzes.
It’s a text. From Stephanie.
Stephanie looks from Tim to Bruce and Jason--sitting abnormally close, Jason in
Bruce’s robe--and back at Tim.
Tim looks down at his phone as he opens the message--and, luckily, it prevents
him from catching sight of Damian’s hand straying to Dick’s thigh under the
table.
The message reads: I told you so.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!