#counting is hard

[britcision]

Okay so… today is a little bit of a long one, so we’ll see if we’re back at Tumblr breaking length or juuuust on the right side

But! Finally, much anticipated, we have the man himself: John Constantine! Here to share secrets and save the day! (Not)

And! This chapter got us right up to the edge, next chapter is gonna push me over to one MILLION words on AO3 y’all!! I’ve been flirting with it the past couple years but finally we’re here!

So. Might push the next one out faster. Might slow the next one down, since we’re in heavy waters again. And, since we are in the heavy waters, Imma tag on some warnings:

1) we gonna be speculating a little more on Jason’s death in this one, from a couple of viewpoints. We’re also discussing Cass’s in particular, and its repercussions.

No gore or details, just some death themes, mostly from Jason’s perspective after he and Danny leave the manor (Jason’s second POV segment)

2) Bruce is gonna make some very bad decisions about stimulants and concussions, mostly off screen but it is mentioned at the end of our first Bruce POV segment

And now the links!

First and link to AO3:

Previous:

———————

Never Make A Promise You Can’t Keep

Constantine hadn’t been looking forward to discussing Amity Park with the Justice League. Not the first time he’d been sent, and not for a single second after.

But hours turned into days, days to weeks, weeks to years. He’d almost thought he’d gotten away with it and that they wouldn’t ask.

Which was probably what had gotten the big Bat’s fuckin’ attention, wasn’t it. Couldn’t possibly let the universe have something nice for Johnny Constantine.

Luckily it was damn hard to lose something in the House of Mystery unless the House wanted it lost. Today she was feeling merciful and gave him the book on the second try.

It’d have been nice if he needed to refresh his memory of the case. If the knowledge of Amity Park hadn’t been sitting like a weight on his awareness since before he’d been.

Honestly he could probably point to it from anywhere on Earth. Most magic users could, if they had the faintest alignment with death.

Amity Park was goddamn wrong, even if it looked like things had turned out alright for now. Still, there were types of wrong you didn’t poke at.

Going prodding around would only make things worse.

And now he had to go explain that to Captain Prod himself, and try and persuade the fuckin’ Batman that no news was good news.

At least the Superboys had listened when he told them to clear off until he could visit in person. They’d pinky sworn they were back in Metropolis, and he’d heard enough traffic to believe them.

They could just as easily fly straight back to Alaska, but they weren’t stupid. They knew how to listen.

(Possibly from trauma related to the times Young Justice hadn’t listened to him, but he’d take what he could get.)

Now he just had to persuade the Bat that he knew what he was talking about.

Constantine hated debriefings with Batman. The guy had no grasp of magic, which was perfectly fair for most folks.

He preferred that. It kept them out of his kind of trouble, meant he didn’t have to worry about them until it got bad enough they’d accept whatever snapped sentence he managed.

Batman though. Batman treated magicians like it was their fault that the world didn’t work the way he personally preferred. Like they had any say in the how and why of magic.

Asshole.

And now he wanted to scold John like a naughty child about something he had no way to understand. Well, fuck that.

For better or worse, the Justice League made Amity Park his problem. Years late or not, this was his show, and he wasn’t going to take shit from anyone.

Thumbing quickly through the book, he kinda hated how easily it fell open to the relevant page. Like he’d already spent way too long looking.

Even he didn’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Not if he could help it.

Stuffing in his notes from the city itself he closed the book, left the House, and hurried to one of the closer zeta tubes. Didn’t matter which city he was spat out in, he could find one.

His number didn’t coax even a flicker of the usual dry amusement as he stepped out into the bat cave, scowling up at the massive screen.

League records. Great. He strode across the floor, hoping they could sort this crap out fast.

“What the fuck’s got you lookin’ into Amity Park?” He asked as the Bat turned to face him, book tucked under his arm.

None of his usual prevaricating or fucking around. No chance for the fucker to try his usual “control the conversation” shit.

If it had any effect whatsoever, it didn’t show. Damn white outs. Batman just stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the computer, pulling up another page.

Constantine didn’t look. He didn’t want to know.

“Why did you mark Amity Park as a prank?” The big Bat asked in his stupid, gravelly tones.

Constantine rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t mark it as a fuckin’ prank, I marked it as a no fly zone for your little lot, so again: what the fuck came out of Amity Park?”

Batman stilled for a moment, doing that annoying “human computer” bit again. John preferred each and every one of the actual cyborgs, even the ones that tried to kill him.

Then he turned back, swivelling the chair around to fully face John like a movie super villain. Asshole.

“Over two thousand legitimate cries for help came out of Amity Park, and were ignored. If they were marked for the Justice League Dark, you should have responded, not deleted them.”

And that sounded way too much like an accusation. And completely fuckin’ irrelevant.

Something deeply unpleasant was tugging at the edge of Constantine’s awareness, just below the irritation he scraped over the sense of impending doom he’d been ignoring for the last hour.

He pushed it down, scowling at Bruce as he crossed the last of the distance and slammed the book down on the table next to the keyboard, gesturing up at the screens.

Still not bothering to look. He didn’t want to fuckin’ know.

“Years ago, Batty. This could be time fuckin’ sensitive, so quit pissing me about an’ tell me what. Exactly. Got you looking into Amity Park.”

There was a moment of hesitance, and he just fucking hated that. Nothing that made Batman hesitate could possibly be… good.

The feeling at the back of his mind suddenly clicked. His eyes widened and he groaned, wishing he had something stronger than a cigarette. Maybe a bullet.

“Great. Just fuckin’ great. They’re here.”

Groping around behind him, he grabbed another swivel chair and folded down into it, elbows bracing on the desk and burying his face in his hands.

Well, this was the nightmare situation.

From the fucking death taint seeping into his fuckin’ skin, something extremely fuckin’ big had oozed its way out of the Realms, and settled itself in Gotham.

Batman’s attention had snapped to, the man suddenly alert and watchful as Constantine slumped.

One hand dove into a pocket for the carton of cigarettes, Bat Cave rules be damned. Not much fuckin’ point, but he wasn’t doing this sober, and his flask was too small.

For once the Bat didn’t comment as he flicked the lighter open, lit up, and took a long drag. Just focused that laser stare on Constantine’s face.

At least he’d grasped the gravity of the matter.

“What is here?” The Bat finally asked when it became clear Constantine wasn’t elaborating, sounding annoyed.

Constantine took another drag of his smoke. Some days nicotine just wasn’t enough.

“Start from the beginning, Bats. Tell me everything that led up to you lookin’ into Amity Park, and everything you found since,” he demanded, hoping there was still a point to asking.

“If this is time sensitive, Constantine, you need to tell me what is happening,” Batman growled, tensed like he wanted to leap out of his chair and loom like one of his fuckin’ gargoyles.

The bat sounded cranky. Fuck him.

Constantine fixed him with a level stare.

“Then you’d better get fuckin’ talking, hadn’t you? I need to know how fuckin’ bad it is before I know first steps.”

Batman hesitated a moment longer, then turned back to his computer.

“I can summon the League-”

“No time,” Constantine cut him off acerbically, shaking his head, “and might make shit worse. Just fuckin’… report. Gimme yer damn report.”

For all that the Bat loved paperwork, loved to bury them all in bureaucracy, he dithered another moment before nodding, pulling up…

Well lookie there, he already had a literal report typed up. Great.

Taking another long drag of his cigarette Constantine leaned back in the chair and scanned the document.

Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. Or the extra details he could already tell he’d need, that had prompted the dull and clinical report.

**

Jason had tensed as Danny did. First because of the sudden alertness he could feel in Danny’s aura, even reduced back down to conversational levels.

(And that had been fun. The more times he felt Danny’s aura wrapped around him, the longer he spent with his chest tight and Danny’s presence right down to his lungs…

He felt cold when it went away. Almost lonely, surrounded by people. Fucking ancients help him, he was getting used to it.)

Was that what it’d feel like if he felt that Danny was in danger? A rush of adrenaline?

It was a little weird being so in tune with someone, but not in a bad way. Danny didn’t seem upset, just suddenly on guard in a way that the whole table noticed.

On guard, and… amused. And then he spoke and Jason tensed again.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

Danny could sense John Constantine. That was… Really not the strangest thing, but it didn’t mean Jason had to like it.

If Danny could sense Constantine, could Constantine sense Danny? Jason wasn’t sure if he should ask in public.

Tim had way less reservations.

“Wait, what do you mean? What just happened?” He asked, breaking away from Tucker for a moment. But at least Tucker also looked confused.

Danny shook his head, chuckling softly and finishing up his food.

“Oh, sorry. It’s Sad Trenchcoat Guy,” he added for Sam and Tucker’s benefit, both of whom relaxed like that actually meant something.

Sam was back in her original clothes now, although Jason hadn’t given her the thermos back yet. Once her parents arrived, maybe.

Jason stifled a snicker, along with most of the Gothamites. It was a pretty accurate description of Constantine.

“Still in the dark over here,” Duke put in, a slight frown on his face.

Danny shrugged again and grinned at him.

“It’s kinda a ghost thing. I can sense other ghosts, or certain kinds of magic users. Constantine came to Amity Park not that long after I died,” he explained casually.

Tim and Dick shared meaningful looks behind Tucker’s head, and Jason stifled another chuckle. They thought they were so discrete.

Dick leaned in again, arms folded on the table as he gave Danny his best innocent interest.

“Oh? That’s kinda weird, do you know why?” He asked casually. Not questioning where Danny thought John was now.

He wanted to try and lead them away from the topic, probably. Too bad for him, if he’d asked he might have gotten some idea of how far Danny’s power stretched.

He’d explained to Jason about his aura covering most of the city, although he hadn’t claimed it as his haunt. But if Dickie didn’t want to know, Jason wouldn’t tell.

Sam fielded the question, rolling her eyes and folding her arms.

“We thought he might have come to help, since that was around when the ghost attacks started. He didn’t though,” she added bitterly, and Danny kicked her under the table.

“We don’t actually know why he came,” he explained, giving Dick a half smile, “he never talked to us. He did talk to some of the other ghosts though.”

“Wait, you can just do that?” Steph asked, her brows furrowed. Whether she was playing civilian or actually wasn’t sure, Jason wouldn’t put a bet on.

The amount most of the bat clan knew about magic and ghosts used to be that Jason was a zombie.

Which, as it turned out, was wrong.

Danny gave her a blank look, then shrugged again.

“I mean, yeah? You literally can just go ask half the time, but he was doing some fancy stuff. Binding circles and demanding truth, that kinda shit,” he added, making a face.

“He wasn’t popular among the living either,” Tucker agreed with a snicker. “Lotta weird questions for people, and no answers. We figured he was one of those occult nuts.”

“That’d explain the binding circles and truth thing,” Duke agreed with a solemn nod, folding his own arms. Honestly, watching them all play civilian was kinda adorable.

Tucker hesitated a moment, then shrugged and nodded, conceding the point.

“I mean, you’ve got me there. But he never tried to get anywhere near the fights, and then one day he just vanished. We got a ton more weird tourists for a while, but he was the weirdest,” he finished with relish.

Sam snorted again, clearly still annoyed about the whole mess. Maybe she’d been the one who actually wanted help.

Danny hadn’t mentioned how he felt about it yet, and Jason hadn’t asked, but they’d all been abandoned. Fucking Jason wasn’t happy about it.

“He was the only one who actually knew what he was doing,” she huffed, scowling at the table. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “So if he’s in Gotham, I’m gonna call it a bad sign.”

Privately, Jason was tempted to agree with her. John Constantine was a danger magnet, and Jason was half tempted to go and have a word himself.

Word in the Bat Chat was that Constantine was why Danny had never gotten any backup before. Danny himself might not be looking to start a fight over it, but Jason had Opinions on teen heroes.

And the adults who should have been protecting them.

Not with Bruce around though. He’d have to wait and see if Constantine stayed in town.

It’d give him time to ask Danny about the suddenly constant undercurrent of suppressed laughter he could feel.

**

In the bat cave, Constantine squinted at the picture Batman had pulled up from the gala. Not exactly the best picture on earth, but it was clear enough to tell. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, could be worse,” he decided, tossing aside his second cigarette butt. The report had been complete, he’d give old Bats that, and he’d even been allowed to smoke through it.

But a black gloved hand covered his when he reached for the pack again.

Fucker.

Constantine let it slide for now, raising both hands in surrender and then pointing at the screen.

“Looks like you’ve got the halfa. Not bad news, as it goes. He’s at least still half human, which is probably why your precious city’s still intact.”

He didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if another ghost tried to set up a haunt in Gotham. The old girl’s Curse would have something to say about it.

Batman didn’t look noticeably reassured though.

“Enough stalling, Constantine. What is this all about? What happened in Amity Park?” He demanded roughly, and Constantine was grudgingly impressed.

Seemed like that ol’ bat hyper focus was going to win out over even a threat to his own city. Or he hadn’t been fully listening.

No bet.

Constantine sighed again, gesturing to the screen.

“You got a ley line map somewhere on this thing?” He asked, mostly just to annoy the bat a little further. Not like he wasn’t gonna give him the answers.

Batman hesitated for a moment, then set to typing. Probably… yup, going into the JL Dark files. Zatanna kept a helpful reference folder for the mundanes.

Constantine didn’t think they needed any more help than they asked for, but she’d been right this time and he owed her a beer for it. A second later the map was on screen.

Constantine nodded again, pointing to the general area of Illinois.

“Pull up Amity Park on that map,” he instructed, wheeling his chair back out of reach to pull out a third cigarette.

Both got him an annoyed frown from old Batsy.

“What is this supposed to mean?” He asked in the old gravelly growl, the map already obediently zooming in.

Constantine lit his smoke and waved at the screen again.

“Y’know what ley lines are?” He asked back, watching the map scroll around.

Not one with a search function then. Batsy’d have to find it by hand. Sucks to be him.

It kept him from focusing much attention on John anyway, so that was a win.

“I know the places they meet are magical nexus points,” Batman admitted reluctantly, like he didn’t hoard information about everything on earth.

Constantine nodded, not willing to entertain his issues.

“Amity Park’s on a dozen of them,” he said bluntly, and watched the guy stiffen.

Zoom out a bit, find the flowering spot where damn near every ley line through that part of the world crossed. Zoomed back in to find Amity Park.

The bat scowled at the screen for a while, then at John, who’d put his feet up on the desk. Tough titties, they weren’t coming down.

“But what does that mean, Constantine,” he growled, and John sighed.

Cupped his hands in front of him, paused, and shook his head.

“Alright, I’m crap at metaphors so bear with me. You know about multiple dimensions?” He asked and the bat nodded impatiently.

Like he shouldn’t have asked. Like this fucker hadn’t just asked for the fuckin’ kindergartener explanation.

Whatever.

“Yes. There’s a different dimension on the other side of the ley lines?” He asked, and Constantine did his very best not to roll his eyes.

Well. Maybe not his very best.

But he didn’t do it as hard as he could have.

“No. There’s way too many other dimensions. But what the ley lines do is weaken a place in this dimension, especially where they cross. Amity Park is a fuckin’ sieve,” he said with finality, waiting for the Bat to catch up.

And sure enough, those frown lines etched themselves deep again. This guy was gonna make John Fuckin’ Constantine look like a fresh faced baby.

“So other dimensions can cross through?” He asked again, and John sighed.

Reductive fucker.

“No. Yes. Sort of. Because some stupid motherfucker in Amity Park didn’t just use the natural portals or holes; they punched a fuckin’ permanent portal to the Infinite Realms.”

Honestly using the natural portals would have been bad enough in his opinion. Reality was basically swiss cheese in Amity, and getting anything’s attention would be beyond dangerous.

He hadn’t even liked visiting.

Batman looked more stoic, which John assumed meant he wasn’t keeping up. Scrubbing his free hand through his hair, he blew out a stream of smoke and frowned.

“So you get natural portals between our dimension other dimensions. It’s how all that “evil other self” crap keeps happening. With me?” He asked dryly.

The bat nodded without speaking, which was as close to an admission of confusion as Constantine figured he’d get.

Whatever.

“You get more portals on ley lines, and more again where two cross. About a dozen cross in Amity Park, so they get lots of natural portals. Yes?”

The bat nodded again, face pinching up like he resented John’s tone. Double tough, he’d had every chance to read Zatanna’s primers.

If John was doing Ley Lines For Dummies the dummies could keep their attitudes to themselves.

“Natural portals, they open and close on their own. Rest of the world, they don’t usually stay open for long. They need power to stop the world from… mending the hole.”

Which was the worst fucking explanation of all time and not remotely what happened, but who fucking cared. Batty wanted to weigh in again.

“So natural portals also stay open longer around Amity Park,” he growled, trying to get to the next step of the explanation.

Which, actually, John hadn’t really thought about. Pursing his lips, he let his gaze drift to the smoke swirling around the ceiling.

There were actual fucking bats up there.

Of course there were.

Dramatic bastard.

Forcing his attention back to the bastard in question, he waved a hand to dispel the last stream of smoke.

“Doesn’t matter what natural portals do. Some asshole went to the spot in reality most likely to break on its own, and decided to punch a hole. A permanent hole, into the Infinite Realms.”

Batman took a deep, even breath in, like he was trying to hold onto his temper. Yeah, well, he’d walked face first into Amity Fuckin’ Park, now he had to join John in Hell.

“What are the Infinite Realms?” He asked, sounding as patient as ever. Brownie points for trying, John wasn’t going to.

“It’s where the unclaimed dead go. Souls not ready to move on, souls that were never born, and, much worse, it occasionally pops out personifications of forces or belief,” he ground out the last words, teeth gritting in spite of himself.

The bat stilled for a long moment, drawing in another slow, steady breath. Probably counting to ten.

“What.” It wasn’t even a question really, a flat statement of dissatisfaction.

It meant not talking about Amity Park for a bit longer though, so Constantine leaned in.

“God shit. Concepts like Time, Hope, Growth. Anything that someone, somewhere, truly believes in. Well, not just anyone,” he corrected, and Did Not enjoy the way Batman’s jaw clenched.

Not even a bit.

“It takes a lot of juice, makin’ a whole entity. But the Infinite Realms are the core of all the dimensions, the intersection they all go through, and that’s where the belief settles. The more people who believe, the more clearly they believe it, and eventually you get enough to form a personality.”

He gave the bat a little time to digest that one. To really let it sink in what a fuckin’ problem the Infinite Realms could be.

And then a thought occurred to him.

“Your city’s got one, y’know?” He mentioned almost as an afterthought, and Batty Did Not like that.

His head snapped up, white outs narrowing to slits as he glared.

“What?!” He demanded sharply and Constantine waved a hand.

“Gotham. Dunno if it’s all the shit you lot go through, or the stubborn arseholes that live ‘ere, but Gotham has a city spirit.”

No need to mention the curse yet. Batsy was already having a day.

That’d be for the next time he ticked Constantine off.

This time, just that revelation seemed to have been enough to stun the bat. Constantine left him to sit in this one until he was ready though.

Processing.

He wasn’t completely heartless.

He was a little grudgingly impressed by how quickly Batman put it aside and refocused on the matter in hand.

“And that’s why the Infinite Realms are dangerous? These powerful personifications?” He asked cautiously, like he expected John to say no again.

Smart man.

Constantine gave him a dry smile.

“If fuckin’ only. There’s spirits in there, Ancients, and every one of ‘em could give Darkseid a run for his money. But even the ghosts of the Realms are a fuckin’ dangerous lot. You know Deadman?”

The bat nodded to indicate that he did, brows furrowing.

“He can’t be seen or heard without magical assistance,” he agreed, that same caution present.

At least he was a quick learner. Constantine nodded in satisfaction.

“He’s a ghost made by magic. Ghosts from the Realms don’t have anything like the same limitations. They can’t be seen or touched unless they want to, and they can damn well affect the world around ‘em.”

John shuddered, remembering some of the attacks he’d seen. Nothing stronger than a baseline demon, but the damage you could do when no one else could touch you, or stop you…

And he shook his head, locking the damage back down.

“And worse, they’re fuckin’ unpredictable. Demons, they’re easy. They all want the same shit. Realms ghosts? If one of ‘em decides fuckin’ cheese is their obsession, that’s it. They’ll drown a city in cheddar.”

The bat was staring at him again, back on that stoic “I have no idea what’s happening so I’ll look big and scary til it all makes sense again” bullshit.

Constantine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look. I ain’t even told ya the worst of it yet. How about we jus’ take it as read that the Infinite Realms are bad fuckin’ news, okay?” He asked as patiently as he could.

There was that little twitch, that little scrunch again. Not a happy Batty.

And he wasn’t gonna get happier while he made John teach him Magic For Dummies either.

But he nodded, folding his arms reluctantly.

“Then why did you leave the people of Amity Park to face them alone?” He asked bluntly, and… well, that was the question, wasn’t it?

Constantine stared blankly at him.

“You want Superman gettin’ body hopped by a ghostie craving all the cheddar in the mid west?” He asked in turn, and there it was.

The little indrawn breath. The fuckin’ scale of the problem.

Fuckin’ FINALLY.

“Look, Amity Park has a hero. Had. The halfa.” He waved vaguely at the screen again, the picture of Bruce’s mystery kid now buried several windows deep.

Didn’t matter.

“He’s got all the powers the ghosts do, an’ can’t be possessed. Last thing the poor little fuck needed was to face an overshadowed super.”

And yeah, the Bat still didn’t look happy (more to the better, that’d be a terrifying sight all on its own), but at least he had a reason for resting bitch face now.

Constantine sighed, waving a hand vaguely and tossing the latest butt down.

“Look, I can’t stop ya from pokin’ around. Not for lack of trying, mind. The Realms are a dangerous place, an’ Amity Park’s practically on the other side already. I dunno why the kid left, I don’t care. You though, Bats? You’re gonna do me a proper fuckin’ oath.”

He levelled his best serious stare, useless as usual against the damn white outs. It’d kill the asswipe to look human.

Batman shifted again, clearly feeling the weight of the last word.

Good.

“An oath?” He asked warily, and Constantine nodded, holding out his hand.

“On yer name, on yer blood, on yer tie to this fuckin’ city. No matter what you do lookin’ at the Infinite fuckin’ Realms. You do not. Fuck. With the Ghost King.”

The bat stared down at his hand like there was something wrong with it. John assumed anyway. The pissy face could be for anything.

And then he asked the question, because of fuckin’ course he did.

“What is the Ghost King?”

John sighed heavily, leaving his hand where it was, waiting for the oath.

“The prettiest fuckin’ princess of them all, what d’you fuckin’ think. The Ghost King rules the Infinite Realms, and by all accounts the last one was a bloody tyrant. Good news is he probably never noticed Amity Park yet, cuz America isn’t a smoking crater.”

Honestly, maybe he’d add a chapter to Zatanna’s document. Stamp it all across any reference anyone tried to make to Amity Fuckin’ Park so he never had to do this again.

He caught the Bat’s gaze again, weighting his words with enough power that every sound in the cave died around them.

“It took all the damn Ancients to seal Pariah Dark once. And someone’s beaten him, and taken his throne. I don’t fuckin’ know who, I don’t ask, but if they’re tough enough to beat Pariah, they are beyond what the League can do. Your only chance is to stay the fuck outta their way. Swear it.”

Batman stared at him for a long moment, and then down at the outstretched hand. Reached out and clasped it in his own.

“I swear. I will not knowingly upset the Ghost King.”

John gripped tighter, realized almost immediately that it was pointless against the reinforced gloves, and did it anyway.

“None of that, Batty. No bullshit. You do not fuck with the Ghost King. You hear the faintest goddamn whisper of their name, you turn tail and fuckin’ run. We will not survive their attention.”

He stared the stupid white outs down, as long as it took, and didn’t let go. Batman stared at him for a while, clearly absorbing the gravity of his words.

Constantine couldn’t remember asking a member of the League to swear to anything before. Usually he was the buyer in deals, not the keeper.

Woulda been nice to remain so, but nothing stopped the fuckin’ bat from sticking his nose in, so here was John Constantine, last condom of the universe.

Last desperate scrap of protection against a fuckin’ dick.

Finally the bat nodded, grip tightening in return.

“I swear. I will not engage with the Ghost King.”

**

Harley had gotten back just before Sam had to leave, with perfect timing to see her to the door actually.

The look on Pamela Manson’s face when Harley kissed Sam on each cheek and waved her off would keep Danny warm on cold nights.

A quick check of flight times back to Massachusetts (like Danny wasn’t going to take shortcuts) confirmed that Tucker could have one more night in Gotham.

Tim immediately offered to put him up in Wayne Manor again, clearly not allowing the chance to slip by him two nights in a row. Tucker was only too happy to accept, although Steph and Cass begged off.

Probably for their hero patrols. Danny wasn’t exactly sure how many vigilantes Gotham had, there seemed to be a new one every few months, but having eight of them at the gala last night probably meant all the rest had been out.

Obviously Red Robin wouldn’t be out tonight either, but there were enough of them to cover for each other.

Danny was kinda jealous of that. It had been just him for so long, and then him and Valerie, which hadn’t been better until she stopped hunting him too. He’d have loved a night off.

Still, their numbers meant that Jason probably wouldn’t need to go back to the night life unless he actually wanted to. He was definitely still built for it, but Danny couldn’t imagine anyone wanted to ask him to.

Most of the bats had clearly had their own run ins with death, but Jason’s had stuck in ways even Danny knew he didn’t quite get.

Jason had been so tense at just the thought of Danny being a teen hero. It wasn’t like that’d get easier when it was his little siblings swinging from rooftops.

Danny’s hero career might have started with his own death, but he personally was of the opinion that that’d be a perfectly fine reason to end one too.

So Dick, Steph, and Cass headed out not too long after Sam, and Danny wasn’t exactly surprised when Jason’s background angst jumped.

He’d stayed on edge since Danny and Bruce got back, even when Harley told them Bruce was off dealing with his own shit and probably wouldn’t be out of his room all night.

Danny’d bet fifty bucks that the arrival of Constantine actually meant Bruce was in the bat cave being suspicious, but he wasn’t gonna say it.

Tim had shown them to a games room, for all that he’d apparently also moved out. He still knew where everything was, and soon had them hooked up for Mariokart on the biggest TV Danny ever saw.

They’d played a couple rounds (Harley was expectedly devastating with red shells) and while Danny and Tucker were having fun, he could feel Jason stressing.

Like, even if he stuck his fingers in his ears and ignored the aura. The guy was tensed so tight his shoulders strained at his shirt, which woulda been visually interesting if Danny didn’t know why.

Cass was one near death experience from slipping back across the boundary for good.

Cass was off punching criminals with rocket launchers in body armour and spandex.

Duke was probably actually in bed, Signal did morning patrols, and Damian was obstinately refusing to play video games with them perched on the back of the couch, but still.

Dick and Steph had both given one life to the cause too, and for all Dick was a cop and in danger on his day job too, cops pretty famously showed up after the vigilantes ended the party.

More than half Jason’s immediate family were back in the line of fire and Danny could practically taste Jason’s Obsession eating away at him.

As much as he tried to pretend he was playing along and gave a shit about winning, the controller creaked in his hands more than a couple casual races should allow.

So, yeah, if he couldn’t get Jason to crack a smile with this one, he was gonna gently bow them both the fuck outta the manor.

He kept half an eye on Tim, who had a glass of water.

“Hey, you guys heard the theory about Batman?” He asked casually, just as another round of Mariokart started.

Jason kicked him in the ankle but otherwise ignored him, which was fair. He’d been exposed to Danny’s bullshit.

Tim stiffened and then forced himself to relax, Tucker rolled his eyes and jostled Danny from his other side, but it was Harley who answered.

Innocent as the day she was born.

“Oh? What? Is it that he’s a lizardman? Cuz I got right up on that cowl and he’s definitely a mammal,” she said casually, not even looking away from the screen.

Danny was pretty sure he heard Damian almost slip off his perch.

He was a little bit in love with Harley Quinn. He should get her number for Jazz, maybe his big sister would learn to have a little fun.

Grinning broad and only half fake, he drifted a turn to pick up a double item from under Tucker’s nose.

“Shit, yeah, you might actually know! It’s his secret identity!” He exclaimed cheerfully, and felt the tension in the room ratchet up.

From Tim and Damian. Jason… still wasn’t paying attention.

Not like he was deeply immersed in the game, for all he kept up he was nowhere near the speed demon that handed Danny his ass the night before.

Hmm. Better get his attention.

Tim and Damian had already settled again, probably remembering he was already In The Know even if Tucker wasn’t, and Harley had given him a very knowing look right before she fire flowered him.

Almost ready.

He waited until Tim had taken a hasty sip of water on a calm stretch, nudged Jason in the shins, and made sure he was louder than the music.

“So d’you think it’s possible that Markiplier’s Batman?”

Tim sprayed water across the couch, Harley fucking cackled, and Jason snapped his head around to stare at Danny so hard he cricked his neck.

Danny red shelled him for good measure, just so he wasn’t missing anything on screen.

Tucker rolled his eyes, also deeply used to Danny’s bullshit and much more interested in gaming revenge.

“Fuck off Danny, Markiplier isn’t even a Gothamite,” he said disdainfully and Danny shook his head, grinning.

“That’s why it’s the perfect cover. I mean, Batman wants to keep his secret identity a secret, right? So having an identity that very publicly “isn’t in Gotham” makes perfect sense!” He argued cheerfully.

Jason half snorted a laugh beside him, picking back up and speeding his way back into the race. Across the couch Tim wiped his face, still catching his breath.

“I fucking hate that that made sense,” he moaned, and Harley cackled again.

“Nah, he’s got a point! How does anyone know where a youtuber lives? We only see one room!” She agreed cheerfully, clearly leaning in.

It was so nice to have a true showwoman in the crowd.

Damian looked angry in the confused way now, and Danny would hazard a guess he didn’t watch youtube at all, let alone a lets player. That might have made it funnier, had there been no other concerns.

Beside him Jason huffed out another dry chuckle, shaking his head with the barest hint of a smile.

“I can’t believe Batman has an OnlyFans,” he said in a solemn, almost sorrowful voice… and dropped a blue shell.

Tim groaned like his soul had gone with it, clinging desperately to his first place lead. Harley cackled and added her own green shells to the mix, dropping all three as they came to the home stretch.

“Don’t forget the calendar of tasteful nudes! All for charity, just what Batsy would like,” she crowed with evident glee, and Tucker snorted a laugh.

“It’d explain all the surgeries,” he agreed reluctantly, and Danny had a sudden, utterly wicked idea.

“Hey… now that Batman’s on OnlyFans, d’you think he’ll convince the whole Justice League to do a pinup calendar, or just the other bats?” He asked innocently, watching said bats from the corner of his eye.

Well, Robins technically, but since only Tim was of age birds didn’t seem appropriate.

Tim himself threw his controller to the ground, abandoning the game and throwing himself over the back of the couch and almost hitting Damian on the way.

Damian definitely hissed at him like a startled cat.

No way Danny imagined that this close to the finish.

Tucker hesitated for a long moment, clearly considering his odds of winning, but when Harley blasted past Tim’s spun out corpse and across the finish line he abandoned his controller too to check on Tim.

Harley was surprisingly good at the game when flopped sideways on her chosen couch, laughing too hard to breathe. Danny breezed into an easy third behind her and Jason, giving the other man an assessing look.

A little wary of reaching out with his aura, especially when Jason was on edge. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Didn’t want to be too invasive, if he was honest. Danny had… kinda always been the one who was new to aura stuff before. And he’d gotten used to it, in the Ghost Zone.

He’d never spent this much time with another halfa before. Especially not without a single trace of punching or stabbing.

Except in Mariokart, where the Geneva Convention held no sway.

Jason had clearly noticed him looking though, and read the concern even without Danny pushing. He gave Danny’s shoulder a gentle bump, a nudge of fine-stop worrying alongside.

Danny nudged back, his own disbelief tinged with understanding-empathy-worried too.

But, that was kinda the other thing… the thing he didn’t really want to bring up around the other bats just yet.

And while Jason had smiled, Danny didn’t think he’d mind them dipping out.

Faking a yawn, he stretched, cracked his back, and looked over to where Tim had rejoined the couch.

“Honestly, I’m beat. I gotta try and get back into a better sleep schedule before classes start,” he said, pulling a face at the self-reminder.

Their break was coming to its end, and then he’d be back into university. His class schedule was flexible, more afternoons than early mornings, but he’d… miss this.

Free time to just spend the whole day hanging out with friends and catching up. Meeting Jason’s family, Jason meeting his.

Danny didn’t actually know what Jason did, whether he was working or going back to school, but it was gonna come up soon.

They had a trip to Frostbite to plan, some ecto shots from Danny’s fridge, and at some point he still had to introduce Jason to Frighty… and probably ask the guy if he wanted to be called that still.

It’d be a little weird to start calling him Halloween or whatever, but frankly him obeying Danny’s orders and calling him “my liege” was way fucking weirder so it’d be fine.

And about four more days before half of Danny’s time would be eaten by lectures, study halls, and projects. Fuck, maybe Jason would give him a hand with those too.

So long as he wasn’t sick of Danny by then.

Another quick glance showed that Jason’s face had reset into that tense almost-scowl again, staring past the TV.

At the other end of the couch, Tim gave a disgruntled huff.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that next time,” he grumbled, shifting to Tucker with an adorable moment of sudden concern. “Do you need me to show you to a room too, or…”

Tucker shook his head with a snicker, giving Danny a side eye.

“Nah, unlike that weakling I got used to the vigilante sleep schedule back in high school. I’m good for a couple more hours at least,” he bragged.

Danny flipped him off, hauling himself to his feet and giving Jason a nudge.

“Yeah, well, this weakling fought a croc last night and needs his sleep. Mind giving me a ride back?” He asked when Jason looked up at him.

Gently offered a touch of easy out-reassurance-trust me.

The deep furrows in Jason’s brows twitched until he caught on and his expression cleared. He nodded quickly and pulled himself to his feet.

“Yeah, we can take my bike.” Then he hesitated and looked a little uncertain. “You never told me where you live.”

It took Danny a moment to realise that… no, he really hadn’t, because that just plain didn’t feel right. But no, he’d met Jason again in that coffee shop, then come to the gala with Sam.

Hadn’t gone home last night, just stopped at one of Jason’s apparently multiple places; at least he was doing better than Danny had thought from the first apartment.

He found himself chuckling at the thought, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah, we’ve only been to your place… I’m at the south dorm at Gotham U, I can give you directions as we get closer,” he offered and Jason nodded.

He felt… weird? Like he was surprised Danny had told him where he lived, and ashamed of being surprised.

Danny decided not to dig into it, offering Jason his arm and bowing like all those Shakespeare plays he knew Jason loved.

“Shall we?”

Jason’s moment of surprise was quickly swallowed by delight and he bowed back, then tucked his hand into Danny’s elbow. Almost definitely knew etiquette better than Danny did, so Danny wasn’t gonna doubt him.

“We shall. I’ll drop you off and head home,” he agreed, then paused and glanced back at Harley.

Whose giggling had completely ended and was now watching them like her favourite sitcom. Chin in hands and all.

“Did you wanna meet up here tomorrow, or…” Jason trailed off, obviously also a little put off by her intensity.

She perked up when addressed, giving him a cheery grin and a double thumbs up.

“Here or th’ station, I don’t mind! Hey, did ya wanna come too, Danny boy?” She asked sweetly, head cocked to the side and just waaaay too innocent.

Not that Danny could work out what she was up to.

“Uh… to do what?” He asked carefully, head cocking to match hers before he noticed and straightened up.

Her grin widened, so she noticed.

“Oh, Jason an’ I are gonna go check on my buddy Waylon, see if we can’t work out what he was doin’ at the gala. If youse threw down he might like ta see ya there?”

Which honestly left Danny at a loss, until Tim explained.

“Killer Croc. His actual name’s Waylon Jones, and he was Harley’s tenant in Coney Island before coming back to Gotham,” he said casually, and Danny stilled.

There was an intensity in the room that hadn’t been there before, a sudden wave that sent a chill down his spine. Something from Harley, suddenly predator sharp in a way he hadn’t felt since Skulker had been a serious threat.

For the life of him though, he couldn’t put his finger on what though, since she didn’t move. Just grinned like she had been all along.

“People called him Killer Croc cuz of his skin condition. He gave up tryin’ ta change their minds,” she said with a light shrug, completely belied by the intensity of her stare.

Danny couldn’t look away until she released him, something satisfied in the quirk of her lip. Like she could see the sudden well of memory in his chest.

He’d never actually given in to all the things his parents had called Phantom. They’d been ashamed of all of them when the truth came out, and he’d only had to put up with them for a few years.

He tried to imagine decades of it, being called a monster for things he couldn’t control. For nothing more than a weird scaly skin condition.

He couldn’t imagine going full bomb vest over it, but Danny was man enough to admit he might just be a little touchy because of Jason’s death.

Which Waylon might not even know about.

Suddenly he actually did want to know why they’d attacked the gala.

Until now it had just been inevitable, someone was going to so why not them, but… well. He’d felt it under the whole plan, every stupid step.

Jason had trusted Waylon, not Danny, to keep things from getting out of hand. To know that a tussle was part of the fun.

Danny hadn’t planned on asking, but. Yeah.

“I’d like that,” he agreed quickly, nodding, at about the same time as Tucker found his own voice.

“Wait, that’s a skin condition? He’s just like that?” The techie asked sharply, staring around at Tim and Damian to confirm.

And got a disdainful look from Damian back.

“Tt, what else would it be? Do you know many scaled people?” He asked archly.

Danny’s mind snapped directly to Dora and her asshole brother. Knew Tucker’s had gone to the same place a second later.

“More than you’d think,” he and Tucker said in unison, and they shared a grin. If there was one benefit to their fucked up ghost hunting years, it was shutting down smart ass remarks.

Damian only looked more annoyed at being corrected, and Tucker shrugged.

“I thought he mighta been a scientist and tried to fuse himself with a lizard or something, like in Spider-Man,” he elaborated, and Danny kinda hated how much their lives resembled superhero movies.

Not that he’d say that in a room full of bats.

Damian’s brows drew down even further and he sneered, displeasure evident, but Jason cut him off before he could speak.

“Before you make a comment about mad scientists I’m gonna remind you we live in a city with Viktor Fries,” he said dryly and Damian’s mouth snapped shut.

Big brother privileges.

Wouldn’t it be nice if Ellie had given Danny those?

Tucker gave Danny a confused look, and Danny just shrugged back. He didn’t pay much attention to Gotham’s various rogues; he didn’t want to tempt his Obsession.

Tim chimed in again, without actually looking at Tucker which was kinda impressive. Guess they were just very obviously new to Gotham.

“Dr Freeze. He uses a lot of liquid nitrogen and freeze rays, he’s usually after money or diamonds to try and cure his wife,” he explained with a slight shrug.

Tucker made a confused noise.

“So… couldn’t Bruce just pay him off and keep him from bothering the city?” He asked carefully, glancing around the room.

Jason actually snorted a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“If he could, he would have. What Fries wants isn’t possible yet.”

Not possible for humans. Part of Danny perked up, wondering if Frostbite might have the answers… but no. It wasn’t his job to solve every problem in the world.

Bringing healthy humans to the Zone was iffy. An already sick woman… well, she might get hastened along her journey to the afterlife.

And this was a conversation he really wanted to keep away from, honestly. Gotham’s rogues weren’t his problem. Couldn’t be his problem.

Danny fought ghosts, unkillable entities who enjoyed missile attacks as sport. He wasn’t interested in learning how squishy human rogues were; it had been bad enough with his friends in the line of fire.

Mega pass on being the firing squad.

He almost reconsidered the trip tomorrow, but… he trusted Jason. Trusted Jason knew where he was coming from, and that neither of them wanted to trip Danny’s Obsession.

So he gave the big guy a smile and an elbow nudge, nodding for the door.

“Not that rogue chat isn’t fascinating, but you were taking me to bed?” He asked hopefully, and only realised what he’d said when Harley stuffed half her fist in her mouth to laugh.

And now, now Danny had a choice. He could feel the heat threatening to build, and blushing? Blushing would make things much worse.

Jason’s cheeks had pinked and that was adorable and Danny would ectoblast anyone who gave him shit for it, but if DANNY blushed, Tucker would never let it go.

No, the better answer had to be to play it off, and what did you do to counter red in makeup? You added green.

Not that Danny had used ectoplasm as a fucking colour corrector before, but he might as well try. So he let his grin go saucy, eyebrows waggling, and tried a teeny bit of spectral ice to cool his cheeks.

It made Jason chuckle again, so he’d take it as a win, and Jason gave him another bow, hand still tucked in Danny’s arm.

“Your chariot awaits.”

Tim and Tucker mimed puking almost simultaneously. They were perfect for each other. And had no taste, so that worked out well for them.

Danny ignored them all and gave the room a last wave, heading for the door and tugging Jason along with.

“Night all, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Harley, and Tucker just text me when you’re up and we’ll see about getting you home,” he called brightly, definitely not about to stop no matter what anyone said.

Not even when Harley hauled herself vertical and call after them,

“Oh, Danny! If the bat calendars do come out, shall I grab you a Red Hood one?” She asked saucily and Danny felt Jason’s grip spasm in his elbow.

Which. He was gonna try putting together later, but tonight he really did wanna get out of there before long.

Who even was Red Hood?

Danny’d never seen him and he hadn’t turned up at the gala, so he didn’t have a guess ready, just like Batwoman.

A couple of people in one of Danny’s classes simped constantly over his thighs, but Danny now figured it was because they hadn’t met Jason.

It was probably easiest to agree, so he gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder.

“Autographed please!”

**

The headache that had lessened as he talked to Harley was back in full swing, along with a throbbing pulse in his temples and roiling nausea in his gut.

Constantine’s damn cigarettes weren’t helping, but Bruce just didn’t feel up to wrestling them away from him.

He’d expected… well. He hadn’t expected Constantine to come through full of fire and indignation, accusing Bruce of making the fucking mess.

His bad feeling had intensified too, not in the slightest relaxed that Constantine could feel that scrungly fucking kid all the way up in the manor.

No matter what Constantine said about the “halfa”, that could not bode well. Not with the look he’d seen on the man’s fucking face.

Steph called him an occult OSHA violation in a trench coat. Anything that scared him worried Bruce.

He could put up with some smoke and some pain to get the information he needed with a minimum of fuss.

He was beginning to wish he’d gotten some sleep though. Or could have someone get him a drink of water.

He’d shown Constantine the missed call logs from Amity Park, and the magician swore in ways that made Bruce see flashes of colour.

(That might have been the concussion talking, but Bruce could remember the almost buzzing swearwords he’d heard from Sam Manson and wasn’t sure. Nothing could be trusted.)

Not at the volume of the logs, that hadn’t surprised him. No, Constantine had gotten serious when Bruce shared the logs Tim had first shown him.

‘Earth is gone. The sky is green and Earth is gone.’

“Alright, that? That’s very fuckin’ bad,” the magician grumbled, reaching into his pocket for a flask for the first time since he’d arrived.

At least it wasn’t another goddamn cigarette. Little fucking meow meow magician.

(Bruce wasn’t quite sure what that one meant, but Steph usually said it with enough derision it had to apply.)

“So I assumed,” he gritted out, jaw clenching against another pang of pain.

Constantine levelled him with a blank stare. Bruce made a conscious effort to relax his face. The tensing wasn’t helping anyway.

“No, Batman. I mean really, really not fuckin’ good. They never called again?” He asked, and the sudden gravity in his voice sunk through layers of ache and irritation.

He sounded as serious as he’d been about the oath. That definitely wasn’t good.

Bruce shook his head, scrolling demonstratively to the end of the file.

“Not after this cluster of messages, all within the same day.”

Tim had all sorts of explanations for that. Bruce fervently hoped he was right and it was just pique on the part of Amity Park; he’d take them being angry with the League over anything else.

Especially anything that made John Constantine look that serious.

“An’ the town’s still there?” He asked, like that was a reasonable question.

Except… Bruce suddenly wasn’t sure. There were alumni from Amity Park, people who’d moved away, but the sheer lack of online information about the town itself…

They hadn’t even been able to get a clear satellite image.

He should have noticed that. He should have checked that. If he hadn’t been so twisted up in his worries about Jason…

But no, that wasn’t fair.

Bruce closed his eyes a moment, calming himself down. Breathing through the sluggish throb at his temples.

None of their Amity Parkers talked about the town like it was missing, or anything out of the ordinary. His children would have flagged it.

This wasn’t an oversight, but Constantine may know something that none of his family could have assumed.

He just had to get this finished. This briefing with Constantine, his report to the League, Jason… no. Sleep first, some pain killers, a more thorough scan.

Maybe a day of recovery, as soon as he could afford one. Wait until his head cleared.

Harley was right, Jason deserved the best Bruce could give him, and trying to talk to his son now would not go well. Bruce was only barely tolerating Constantine’s presence.

For all the man was alarmingly combative about this subject, he was a pussycat compared to Jason in a mood. Jason knew far more about what would hurt Bruce most.

Jason had always been what hurt Bruce most, ever since he’d held his lifeless body. Jason, and even the thought of one of his other children following him where Bruce couldn’t go.

No. He just had to get through this.

Refocusing on John-Bloody… no, that wasn’t helping either. On Constantine.

“From what we’ve gathered from people who have left Amity Park since, they still have access to the outside world.” He wasn’t quite sure what else he could commit to now.

It didn’t seem to satisfy. It didn’t satisfy Bruce either.

“Okay, but ya remember what I said about the fabric of reality bein’ swiss fuckin’ cheese around this city?” Constantine asked, his usual drawl starkly absent.

Bruce found himself tensing again. Wishing this was something he could fight.

“Yes. We haven’t been able to receive any satellite imagery of the town, nor any footage or communication online from within.”

He could pull up all the data, all the social media, but he knew Constantine wouldn’t care. It wasn’t what he’d asked for.

And sure enough, Constantine hauled himself back to his feet, striding towards the zeta tubes.

“Right. Well, guess we’re takin’ a field trip to th’ Watchtower, B-man, because you’re really not gonna like what I’d have to do to this lovely cave to get the intel I need. We’ll need every sensor you lot have, because that?”

Constantine half turned on his walk, finger jabbing at that last message. Barely even glancing in Bruce’s direction.

It felt like an accusation.

“That’s not fuckin’ good. That sounds like the Infinite Fucking Realms,” he declared darkly, trench coat billowing around him as he stalked across the cave.

Bruce almost flinched. Like he had no control over his expressions.

He needed sleep.

He needed answers. Needed to know what had happened, and what had to happen to fix it.

Needed to know they hadn’t let a half dead child take on an entire alternate dimension alone, because no matter how little he trusted the man Danny was, the thought of the child still ached.

Needed to know if that suspicion was actually justified by anything but his own inability to accept Jason’s clear. To have an unknown factor in Jason’s life.

Constantine’s reaction was one point in Bruce’s favour.

Whatever they found about the current state of Amity Park… would tell the rest.

He forced himself out of his seat to follow Constantine, hand straying to the pocket on his belt that held his emergency stimulants.

Alfred wouldn’t be pleased, the tiny pills carried an adrenaline boost that was wearing even at full health, but he needed to be sharp. Just for a few more hours.

He could pass what they learned off to Clark and Diana, and to his children when he returned. Just for a little while. A few hours.

Amity Park had gone unnoticed for years, as little as Bruce liked that fact. He could only hope that whatever threat it presented would lie dormant just a little longer.

**

Fuck the no killing rule, Jason was gonna murder Harley Quinn. And by that, yeah, he probably actually meant “seek vengeance in some small but annoying way”, but still.

He didn’t actually have a crush on Danny. It was a bit they were putting on to fuck with his nosey brothers, and it was probably a good sign that they’d apparently fooled Harley too.

But Harley was a hopeless romantic and prone to see romance where none existed, so maybe it wasn’t that good.

More importantly, Danny didn’t fucking know he was Red Hood yet. He’d have to text Harley tonight and drill that in, since she’d definitely picked up that Danny was in on the secret.

And since apparently they were all gonna be hanging out tomorrow.

He kinda wished he hadn’t brought it up. That Harley hadn’t asked.

He’d monopolised so much of Danny’s time already over the break, three full days and they still had to make that run back to Frostbite.

Danny must have had some other plans. Something he actually wanted to do with his time instead of just following Jason around.

The gala had been fun though. And so had today, it just… Jason couldn’t help feeling he was being too needy. Too clingy, with a guy he’d known for all of a week, if you were generous.

Being around Danny made him feel like himself for the first time in fucking years, and he knew what he’d have given up for that.

He didn’t want to be too much. Too pushy. Didn’t want Danny to get sick of hanging out with him so soon, and leave him right back where he’d been; bitter, angry, and alone.

At least Danny didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Harley’s parting shot. There was definitely something on his mind, but they hadn’t actually unlinked arms.

Jason could feel his aura.

Concern-worry-worry.

Shit, they hadn’t fucking unlinked arms. Should they? Should Jason have? For fucks sake he was literally clinging to the guy, this was fucking ridiculous, he should just.

But Danny hadn’t pulled away.

It’d be weird to pull away now.

Jason managed to keep himself distracted in that little spiral all the way to the garage he’d parked his bike in. Danny waited until they left the manor’s grounds to speak again though, arms tightening around Jason’s chest.

“Pull over a sec?” He called above the wind, and Jason very firmly did not let that pitch him further. He pulled over, still firmly in the heights and far from any living souls.

Unless theirs counted. Probably not.

He dropped the kickstand and pulled off his helmet, hoping Danny just wanted to talk. Maybe ask him to make his excuses to Harley.

Ask Jason to drop him at the university and not follow him home. That’d make sense. He didn’t need a wayward puppy.

He didn’t actually get off the bike. Didn’t want to give up Danny’s arms wrapped around him, even if it was just for expedience.

And maybe realised that wasn’t a great idea when Danny rested his cheek on Jason’s back and a warm wave of relax-safe-reassurance threatened to swallow him.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Danny admitted softly, and Jason damn near bolted. Barely heard the next words, which…

Well.

He knew Danny tended to overlook things. But it turned out he could be pretty damn perceptive too.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know. Cass. I can feel her anywhere in the city if I try, and I’ll know if something happens to her.”

And just like that, the pit dropped out of Jason’s stomach.

He’d been trying not to think about it. Pretended he didn’t know what she’d be doing when she left, out in the city, one fucking accident from being like him.

Even worrying about Danny getting sick of him was better than that.

She might not even need the pit to bring her back this time. Gotham had a fuck ton of native ectoplasm even for a city; it couldn’t not.

Ectoplasm was made of and attracted to raw emotional energy. For all that people died every day in the city, more were born or moved in to join their ranks.

Gotham would be a metaphorical ghost town if they hadn’t, instead of the literal version slowly creeping across the city’s vigilantes.

From the rogues’ overdramatic schemes to the peoples’ undercurrent of rage and defiant joy, Gotham seethed with emotion. Most of the dead didn’t stay to use the ecto up, and every rogue attack brought a fresh wave.

Not clean ectoplasm like the realms, but tainted with their individual torments, the fierce glee, the desire to burn, it all churned into an ambient ectoplasm Danny swore he’d never seen in another city.

And that defiant spirit, the Gotham je ne sais quoi that made people put up with all the rogue attacks and dangers, was powerful too. Jason had known that even as a kid.

Now, it was literally the reason he was alive.

He might have a second core filling his system with pit water, but they’d both have dried up without the boundless “fuck off” energy Gotham was built on.

He’d felt it the second he returned. He was alive in Gotham in a way he hadn’t been in Nanda Parbat, anywhere but the fucking pit. It let him think clearly.

Well.

Apparently Danny let him think clearly. That still stung. But it shouldn’t have surprised him.

He’d never been much of anything that other people didn’t make him.

It was why he didn’t really mind Clockwork trying to make him Danny’s knight within a couple hours of learning he was half dead. It was kinda what he did.

People had been using him as a weapon since he swung a tire iron at Batman himself. Protecting the guy who gave him his fucking soul back?

He’d have done that anyway, for free. And he got a kickass gun and a supernatural sense of when said asshole needed him. Honestly, easiest job of his life.

The catch would come eventually, but this whole “feeling the intent of people you talk to” thing left him way less suspicious than he still kinda felt he should be.

He’d rather that than be left nebulously owing his whole self to Danny with no way to repay him and no idea where the catch would come from.

It had just… never occurred to him that the same way Danny could reach out and find Vlad, he’d be able to find Cass. Or Jason himself, probably.

Jason hadn’t realised how tightly he’d wound himself until the pressure eased.

He sucked in a breath that seemed to fill his chest for the first time in hours, folded his arms forward onto the handlebars, and let his head rest against them.

Danny followed him down, never losing contact but his face slipping lower and lower down Jason’s back. It almost made him chuckle, imagining how they must have looked.

Actually, he did. Just a moment, a soft and almost giddy sound that he choked back immediately. He sounded… well. Not like himself.

He’d been itching since the girls left to patrol, wishing he could join them. Be Cass’s backup in the field and be sure she wasn’t going in on anything big alone.

Cass was a step beyond competent, she was exceptional and she’d been doing this for years without a shadow. On a regular day, she wouldn’t need help.

But hearing how close she was to losing her humanity and not coming back right no matter what had him on edge. He wanted to shield her, protect her from what he’d gone through.

It wasn’t that he wanted her out of the fight. The idea of asking her not to go out hadn’t even occurred to him. She could make her own choices and he’d back her with all he had.

He just absolutely fucking hated the idea that she was out there alone, while he had fucking nothing on him that’d let him go after her if she did need backup.

If she needed help, he’d have to waste time gearing up before he could go out after her. The other bats would have her back, they all would, so long as they weren’t busy too.

It wasn’t like he was anyone’s first choice for backup even now, he just.

Yeah. He might kinda get what Danny meant about his Obsession being protection. Protecting the bats was a recent addition, but Jason had burned himself out on enough missing kids since he got back to suspect.

He’d have to ask what an actual capital-letter Obsession felt like, but that would wait for another time.

Just knowing that Cass would be safe, had another pair of eyes and more powers than a Kryptonian watching her back made him feel like he could breathe again.

Even knowing that though, he was glad to have left the manor. He could take Danny home, suit up, and… wait.

Danny had no choice but to move back as he straightened, half turning to frown down at the smaller man.

“Is that why you wanted to leave?” He asked quietly, gauging Danny’s face.

Had Danny worked it out on his own? Felt him stressing out about his baby sister back in the field?

Did Danny know that Jason wanted to join her, if not necessarily which costume he wore, and cut his night short?

Would Danny do that for him?

The answer was obvious in the other man’s face as Danny shrugged, even before he spoke.

“I didn’t wanna put you on the spot, and I figured you’d rather get out of there,” he explained casually, leaning just a little into Jason. Enough to feel what warmth Danny had.

Jason hesitated for a long moment, not sure what to say. If he should thank Danny. If Danny would ask, and if Jason should tell him he was the Red Hood now.

It’d be weirder the longer he didn’t mention it. Like he was keeping a secret.

The same secret Danny had kept as a teenager, so at least he’d probably understand, but Jason didn’t like how it felt. He wasn’t fucking ashamed of being the Red Hood.

He’d done shit no one else ever could have, and every inch of his territory was safer than it had ever been without him. He was proud of what he’d done, even if he wouldn’t brag about his methods.

It worked. It got him where he was today, where he didn’t need to kill anymore because people turned tail at the hint of his damn name.

He still didn’t know how Danny felt about killing. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation much. Maybe he’d find a way to ask first.

Tonight, he managed a stiff nod and leaned a little of his own weight back into Danny. Even if the guy thought he was just gonna go home and mope there instead, it was a win.

“Thanks,” he said softly, half wishing for his helmet’s voice modulator. He didn’t like hearing his own voice sound so… vulnerable.

Danny, fucking angel of mercy that he was, chuckled softly and gave him a gentle tap upside the head.

“Yeah, well. Also wasn’t sure how the others would react to “99% of you are permanently on my radar” anyway, and I wanted to make sure you knew for Cass,” he explained cheerfully.

And yeah, Jason still hadn’t really processed that yet, and wasn’t even sure how he’d react. Smart fucking call on Danny’s part.

Chuckling under his breath, Jason shook his head and flipped the kickstand back up.

“Anything else before I take you to bed?” He asked, half teasing Danny’s own unfortunate choice of words earlier.

They were absolutely still fucking with his family to think this was some kind of romantic relationship. Maybe a bit to punish Bruce, who clearly couldn’t handle the idea of Jason happy.

Danny laughed, a hint of something Jason almost identified behind it, then settled himself more firmly against Jason’s back, hanging on properly again.

“Not a damn thing. Oh, are you gonna come pick me up tomorrow or do I make my own way to the manor to join you and Harley?” He asked, snugged up tight.

Jason had almost forgotten that was happening. Apparently. And suddenly he was glad for at least the motorcycle helmet as his cheeks flushed pink.

Fuck he’d say he was trailing after Danny like a puppy, except Danny was the one going where Jason needed to be.

Another excuse to get Danny on his bike, arms around him.

Fuck off Jason Todd, Romance Heroine. It was a goddamn jailbreak, if a legal one. Not a fucking meet cute.

“If you actually want to come,” he agreed a little hesitantly, because the voice that insisted he was just a burden and Danny was only humouring him wasn’t all displacement activity after all.

Or pit related, apparently. Delightful.

He coulda tried to pretend it was, but that had been more convincing back when it was always a background grumble of anger, not the little calm pool of happiness now sitting in his gut.

Unforeseen side effect of getting his toxic sludge cleaned up: he was gonna have to own some of his own bullshit now. Work out what was his and what wasn’t.

Danny leaned back a little, grip loosening, and Jason could feel concern like a whisper soft touch.

“Yeah… I would, if you don’t mind? It seems like he’s important to you.”

Jason wasted a moment trying to work out what the hell Danny meant by that.

Did he want to meet Croc cuz he was important to Jason? Or did he think Jason wouldn’t want him to if he was important?

Cuz while yeah, Jason considered Waylon a friend (and thanks, Harley, for the new name crisis, love that. The guy introduced himself as Killer Croc but Jason knew all about controlling a narrative) it wasn’t like he was family. Not like Dick, Cass, or the others.

Except. Roy was family. Long before any of the bats made it back into Jason’s good books, Roy was one of the first people to be happy Jason was alive.

And Waylon had helped Roy get help when Ollie fucking kicked him out.

Waylon had been a restraining hand on Jason’s shoulder too, in the bad old days. Keeping him from pushing too hard, going too big, doing something he really couldn’t come back from.

Family didn’t have to mean annoying texts at four AM. Didn’t have to come around for dinner every Sunday; how often did any of them really see Harley?

Fuck, how often would they have seen each other if Alfred didn’t have them all firmly under his culinary thumb.

Waylon had to count as a reliable old uncle at least.

And that kinda made it a different question. Did Jason want Danny to meet his family?

It had been an easy “yes” with the bats, not least because the nosy bastards would muscle their way in regardless. Croc…

Waylon never judged Jason. From his highest highs to lowest lows, he never looked down on him. Not even when he was telling Jason to stop and think.

It kinda made Jason ache for what his life should have been. His, and Waylon’s if he’d never been called Killer Croc.

And maybe it’d give Jason a read on how Danny would react to the Red Hood thing. Or whether or not Danny already knew.

Jason was gonna blame Bruce for this chronic overthinking. Definitely not something he’d had on his own.

He’d thought about it long enough that he could feel Danny tensing, and he forced himself to snap out of it. In all honesty, it wasn’t his business what Danny thought he’d get out of it.

In the end, there was no point second guessing what someone else wanted to do with their time. It was Danny’s call. Not his.

And that kinda helped.

He half shrugged, leaning back into Danny for a moment and tugging him forwards again.

“I mean, we’re not “Thanksgiving at each others’ houses” close, but… he’s helped me out since I came back. More than I expected anyone to. I don’t mind if you wanna meet him,” Jason explained.

Danny obediently moved back into position to go, his aura a gentle hum of curiosity-concern-interest at Jason’s back.

“So do I make my own way, or…”

“I’ll come get you, probably around eleven?” Jason offered, definitely NOT thinking about Danny being back in this same position very soon.

He was gonna have to get another helmet for the bike. Immortal Ghost King or not, it just felt rude at this point.

**

After Danny and Jason left, Tim, Harley, and Tucker played a few more rounds of Mariokart together. Switched to a couple other games. Damian abandoned them almost immediately, disappearing half way through a round.

Probably to start a patrol of his own, or go try to spy on Danny and Jason.

Eventually Harley wished both the boys well and headed out with a cheery wave.

“Right, maybe I’ll see ya tomorrow or maybe not, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she called cheerfully, then paused and pointed at Tucker. “An’ keep an eye on Tim. Make sure he sleeps.”

Tim rolled his eyes, not looking up from their new round of SpiderHeck to wave her off. Tucker did, and Tim took advantage to swing across the map and cut him down with a lightsaber.

Amateur.

“Huh? Oh, sure! Fucking hell Tim,” Tuck complained as his attention switched back to the defeat screen.

Tim snickered, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t keep your head in the game,” he teased smugly. Tucker poked him in the face.

“Not my fault I have enough manners to look at people when they talk to me. So is Harley gonna be staying in the manor too?” He added curiously, glancing around.

They easily had the rooms for it, though Tim didn’t really wanna think about it. What might Harley get up to on a 2am snack run?

Although it wasn’t that far from 2am now.

“I don’t think so, she has a place in the city at the moment,” he mused, his mind beginning to shift.

It wasn’t that he’d been waiting for witnesses to clear out, exactly. Everyone was in on the secret, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to head down to the Bat Cave even when they had the larger group.

It was just… they’d been having fun. It’d be rude to leave their guests, and Bruce was already being cranky down in the cave.

Of course, Tim’d gotten another ping on his zeta tube monitoring program an hour or so ago. Constantine and Bruce both checking out, probably to the Watchtower.

So it’d be safe now, and they’d reached an okay stopping point. Tim had no doubt that Tucker would prefer checking out the cave over any games.

Tim couldn’t let him on the bat computer yet, but he could show Tucker a couple of Tim’s better scanning programs. Maybe even ping Babs and see how the others were doing.

See if she had time to talk to Tucker in person. Maybe he could show them both how he’d encrypted that server, which Tim suspected would involve ectoplasm.

Not like he couldn’t link the PDA to an un-networked monitor so that they could all see what he was doing though. Hell, they could record it for Bruce.

He’d love having answers to the Amity Park problem. If Tucker would let Tim run the PDA for a few minutes…

Still, it was just good manners to check in.

Alfred would be thrilled that they were learning to communicate.

Pulling out his phone, he shot Bruce a quick text.

‘Hey, we’re gonna head down to the Cave. You mind if I give a tour?���

It didn’t take long to get a reply, which was usually a good sign. It meant Bruce wasn’t hyperfocused enough to ignore his phone.

Maybe things with Constantine were going well.

The length of the reply wasn’t as reassuring, but not a surprise either. Bruce wasn’t exactly wordy in person, and only less so over text.

‘Go ahead.’

No indication of when he’d be back, but that was fine. They could compare notes whenever that turned out to be.

Tim turned to Tucker, grinning in anticipation of the other man’s reaction.

“So, wanna see something cool?” He asked, and felt gratified when Tucker’s eyes widened and a matching grin spread across his face.

But who wouldn’t be excited to see the Bat Cave?

“Hell yeah!”

**

Tucker followed Tim eagerly out of the games room, mind already buzzing with all the things the young genius might want to show him.

Did they have a tech lab in Wayne Manor? They definitely had the space for it, and it had to be safer than keeping one at Tim’s downtown apartment.

Bruce might not have been much of a techie but Tim was personally responsible for enough big developments that he was considered a prodigy even in Tucker’s circles.

Of course the guy had the advantage of near limitless money and resources, especially after Drake Industries merged with Wayne Enterprises.

With that kinda money, Tucker himself could have revolutionised the world. But, Tuck had the advantage of the Ghost Zone and ecto tech, so he wasn’t too upset.

Especially not if Tim was really going to let him see where the magic happened.

He did nearly let out an audible groan as Tim led him into an office and activated a secret elevator in a clock. Maybe Danny had a point… maybe all billionaires were dramatic assholes.

Maybe Sam had a point, and they were all evil. Maybe Tim was bringing him down to an evil lab.

Caution reluctantly seeped into Tucker’s excitement, but he fought it off sharply. Tim was a good guy, they were becoming real friends, and Tuck couldn’t believe a fellow techie would betray him.

Besides, no one in Gotham knew shit about ghost tech, or liminals. It wasn’t like Tucker would actually be in any danger from a scrawny nerd like Tim.

Even if he did have very nice shoulders. Shapely arms. An almost snatched waist that almost tipped to androgyny, but he carried it so well.

Anyway.

Tim definitely wouldn’t hurt him.

It was probably just a super secure underground tech lab, to keep anyone from stealing secrets. Tucker let himself hype up again, imagining the kind of security measures Tim could install underground.

It’d remove the chances of someone sneaking through a back window for sure. And sure, rock wouldn’t stop a ghost, but it stopped pretty much anyone else if you added seismic sensors.

It made sense, really, putting all Tim’s very coolest and most secret cutting edge tech experiments somewhere that no one would expect, and almost no one could get to.

Tucker found himself rocking forward on his toes as the elevator descended, and flushed a little when he noticed Tim smiling.

He was excited, sue him. It beat worrying that he was about to get his first go at the Danny Fenton Lab Experience.

Thankfully no one ever cared enough to capture the nerds.

Tim was quiet on the way down, clearly savouring the anticipation, and that suited Tucker fine. It wasn’t a long ride, and he all but bounced out of the doors as soon as they opened.

Stopped.

Stared around at blank stone walls, stalactites on the ceiling, and… a waterfall? A robotic dinosaur? A row of display cases?

This was not a super cool high tech research lab.

This kinda might be a supervillain cave.

Tucker’s heart sank for a moment, especially as he noticed more and more Batman themed pieces on walls and cases.

Bruce Wayne (please don’t let it be Tim’s secret project any more, Tucker couldn’t bear it) was obsessed with Batman. Collecting trophies.

Probably wanted to catch the hero himself and stuff him in a case. Rich people were all like that apparently.

Except… the locker room? Off to one side? Where a freshly laundered Red Robin uniform hung, neat and pristine?

Collector freaks never let anyone clean their stuff, especially if it might have had gross hero sweat to obsess over.

And that was the Batmobile, parked next to a large garage door. An array of motorcycles, and Tucker was no expert on Gotham’s heroes but there were at least three colour schemes.

Someone had been changing the oil on one of them.

A massive computer screen, surrounded by smaller screens at various angles, and as he approached in awe he spotted a bat sticker on almost every monitor.

No way anyone ever stole THE Batcomputer. People would notice. Someone would talk, there were legends about Batman’s set up!

Half Tucker’s class would have killed for a look at the tech, no way they wouldn’t know if it ever got loose.

Which meant.

Tucker knew his jaw had dropped. Couldn’t find it in himself to close it as he turned back to Tim, eyes wide, and watched all colour drain from the other man’s face.

“Is this the fucking Bat Cave?! Is Bruce Fucking Wayne actually Batman?!” He exclaimed eagerly, not even wondering why Tim suddenly looked so shocked.

This really was the best day ever.

Wait.

“You DO know the fucking Oracle!”

**

Well.

The curse of Robin had come for Tim at last. Bruce was absolutely going to fucking kill him.

But, okay, in his defence, it totally wasn’t Tim’s fault! He’d assumed Tucker already knew because Danny one thousand percent definitely did, he called Dick out in costume!

And Tucker was still trustworthy! Still an asset! And he’d help Tim get past the firewalls, get into Amity Park, all they had to do was get enough work done before Bruce came back.

And killed Tim.

For bringing an unknowing civilian into the fucking bat cave.

Best day ever.

Tim sucked in a great rasping breath, suddenly aware that he’d completely stopped breathing somewhere in there, and shook his head.

Okay. Snap out of it Tim.

Those nights with Alfred-supervision had made him weak, no way only thirty-six hours without sleep should have done this to him.

Too bad, sleep deprivation would have been a great excuse.

He wasted a moment lamenting his lack of immediate coffee and turned his focus to the actual problem: the Amity Park firewall.

Tucker was still staring at him in awe and triumph, though worry was creeping in. Tim pulled on a charming smile, walking to the batcomputer and gesturing for Tucker to join him.

“Uh… yeah, sorry, I thought Danny already told you or I’d have said. I didn’t mean to spring it on you,” he lied, like he’d have ever let the secret slip.

Tucker pouted then, folding his arms.

“Oh, of course Danny knows. Bet that’s how he and Jason met. So does that mean you’re…” he trailed off curiously, clearly hoping Tim would fill in the blank.

Tim considered being mildly offended that Tucker didn’t think he could be Oracle, but he valued his digital security. Zero chance Babs wouldn’t be pulling this video up later for a laugh.

He nodded to his suit instead, the new one hanging waiting. Probably for tomorrow night at this point, since there was no reason to change just to hang out in the cave.

“Red Robin. I ah… saw you last night at the gala,” he added sheepishly, wondering just how much of Tim’s minor breakdown Tucker had noticed while waiting to give Tim the tablet.

And Tucker’s eyes lit up, clearly remembering, and he grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Oh! That explains why you left, huh? I guess someone had to deal with the rogues and stuff,” he mused thoughtfully.

Tim had to hope he wasn’t thinking about the exact same thing. At least the discovery was going well so far; Tim couldn’t think of many people he’d had to share this particular secret with, and most of the ones who did had been villains at one time or another, but still.

Tucker was keeping up, wasn’t freaking out, and had gotten over his surprise in record time. Tim definitely wasn’t disappointed.

Tuck had been a vigilante himself after all, it’s not like he was a civilian. And had already admitted he didn’t pay much attention to vigilantes, so he might not even know which one Red Robin was.

It’d just. Have been nice if he was more impressed.

Not that Tim cared. He wasn’t Red Robin to impress people, and usually didn’t even think about it.

And Tucker didn’t seem surprised or upset when Tim steered him to one of the tables beside the batcomputer instead of the big baby itself, and got one of the un-networked monitors out.

“Pretty much. I get a little… antsy if a takedown goes too easily, because with Riddler it usually means we’re missing something,” he explained dryly, pointing Tucker to a second wheely chair to pull over, “but yesterday it was apparently just a shitty rush job on his part.”

Tucker snickered at that, wheeling the directed chair over and sitting eagerly beside Tim, still darting looks at the bigger screens.

“Should I be mad I didn’t get their best work?” He mock-pondered, and Tim snickered.

“Probably. But Riddler and Croc aren’t really A-listers or big on the mass destruction side anyway.”

“Waylon,” Tucker corrected almost absent mindedly, pulling out his PDA.

Tim missed exactly what he did next as he remembered Harley’s little tidbit, and he pulled a face.

“Yeah… I’ve not exactly had the one-on-one time with him Jason’s had, I don’t think we’re on a first name basis,” he explained, shaking his head as the monitor sprung to life.

Tucker snorted a laugh, flicking through screens on the PDA.

“What, Mr Jones then? Want me to just start downloading the Amity Park records first, then we’ll go hunting?” He added, and Tim nodded quickly, snickering himself at the vision.

Nothing threw a shining ball of confusion into a fight like calling someone “Mr Jones”. He’d have to try it if Croc… Mr Jones was gonna be back on the scene.

It was the name that went on all of his prison paperwork, so it wasn’t like it was a secret identity the same way the bats had.

“Honestly? Better than Waylon. And yeah, we can start with the government files and news reports, just so we have a backup. Then we’ll look around and find out what else B thinks we’ll need.”

Tucker snickered beside him, flicking quickly through screens on the PDA. Despite it being purely for his benefit, Tim pretty much ignored the monitor, keeping most of his attention on the device itself.

It was chunky and very retro, but given the processing power and space for storage? There was a definite charm to it.

Maybe Tucker would let him play around on it later.

But, in the spirit of not being killed when Bruce returned… there was one thing they definitely needed to talk about.

“I…” Tim sucked in a deep breath. He’d put good money on Tuck, Danny, and Sam being what actually solved Amity Park’s last calls to the League.

It might be a traumatic memory. Probably was. But he had to ask. And better him than Bruce.

Tucker looked up when he trailed off, making a curious noise. Not exactly asking what Tim wasn’t saying, but showing he’d noticed the pause.

Sighing to himself, Tim wheeled across to the batcomputer. Bruce probably still had the files up.

“I also think we need to talk about these,” he explained, pulling up the records for the Justice League’s missed calls. Hundreds of them.

Tucker just looked nonplussed for a moment, then sobered. Probably when the dates sank in and told him what they were talking about.

“Oh… yeah. Probably,” he agreed, sounding more serious than Tim had ever heard him. Which kinda proved Tim’s point about traumatic memories.

Leaving the records on screen, Tim wheeled back over, pulling out one of his larger recorders. This conversation might take a while.

“Do you mind if I just record what you tell me? B’s gonna want a full write up. He’s off ripping a strip off of Constantine as we speak, probably, cuz whatever he did… this lot went past voice mail and straight to the trash.”

It wasn’t exactly an apology, wasn’t exactly an excuse, and Tim cut himself off before it turned into whining. The past was past, and it was too late to change that now.

Something complicated crossed Tucker’s face as he spoke, and Tim tried not to look too closely. Didn’t want his overly analytical side latching on.

The only thing they could do was work out what happened, and if there was still anything the league could do to make up for majorly dropping the ball.

Tucker sucked in a deep breath of his own, letting it out in a low whistle.

“Y’know, I thought we were coming down here for fun and tech talk,” he said almost wistfully, and Tim chuckled wryly.

“We can definitely still do that. It’ll just unknot Bruce’s panties some if we’ve got this part out of the way before he gets back. That way you’re just telling me, no “swooping menace in the shadows”,” he added half sarcastically, and Tucker laughed.

He looked… well. Haunted. But that wasn’t exactly a sensible descriptor for a guy who spent years hunting ghosts.

Not too bad though. No tremors, no tightness in the eyes or jaw that said he was hiding something. His skin was still a rich, warm brown, no paler than before.

If he was having a deeper reaction than the tiredness, he was hiding it in a way Tim couldn’t hope to spot. That… was probably the best sign Tim had seen about this particular shit show.

Chuckling to himself, Tucker checked the PDA one more time, then set it on the table and turned to face Tim directly.

“Yeah, might as well do it during the file download. Your setup is gorgeous, but that’s still gonna take a while. If you ask me, you’re not gonna need to ask Danny about it later, right?” He asked, and Tim bit his lip.

Less good sign. Seemed Danny carried more of the weight of this one too.

“B’ll probably want his side, and to check the stories match, but Jason won’t let him push Danny into anything,” he offered instead of a blanket statement.

Tucker cocked his head a little, examining Tim for a long moment in a way that made him feel almost… dissected. Like a piece of tech Tucker had taken apart, and was looking for secrets in.

Finally the older boy nodded and shrugged, leaning back.

“Yeah, fair. It’s damn hard to pin Danny down if he wants to leave anyway. There’s some Fenton tech that’d do it, but it’s not like you can get that here. So… where do you want me to start?”

Filing away that comment about the Fenton tech for later, Tim jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the big screen.

“Do we have time to start at the beginning? The first calls?” He asked, half expecting the answer to be “no”.

Tucker glanced down at his PDA, and snickered.

“Well, I can give you the Cliff’s Notes version. And then if you have questions you can ask?”

Which… yeah, Tim glanced at their little offline monitor. It was a pretty big download; Tucker had meant it when he said he was grabbing everything for them.

That had to be a sign of good faith, right?

And then after that they’d have to shift everything over to an un-networked hard drive. After whatever Tuck had to do to de-ecto it.

Shoulders settling, Tim put the recorder on the table before him.

“Sounds good. So… Tucker Foley, current top student at MIT and soon to be receiver of a Wayne Enterprises internship,” he teased, enjoying the way Tucker snickered again, also visibly relaxing.

Might as well make this as comfortable as possible. They could break after Tucker finished for some drinks or something.

“What happened in Amity Park?”

**

On the Watchtower, Bruce slid his phone back into its pouch on his utility belt and returned his attention to the pacing magician.

He’d pulled up every type of reading they could gather from Amity Park for the week of the last distress call, and from their current logs.

Thermal imaging, infrared and ultraviolets, seismography, electromagnetic waves, spectrography, and several that Bruce wasn’t sure what they were, just that the Justice League Dark were the only ones who used them.

The fact that even Bruce could see extremely obvious spikes on more than half of them was not a good sign. It made checking the dates almost superfluous.

Nor was the way that even though those spikes had lowered within that same day… they’d never gone all the way back down.

In every magical sense they could detect (and half a dozen scientific ways he was actually comfortable with), Amity Park glowed like a cartoon nuke.

The only good news was that their radiation sensors had gone straight back down to normal after the initial spikes. Which made no scientific sense given the normal decay of radioactive materials, but Bruce was not going to argue.

He appreciated Tim checking in though. The gesture towards clearer communication. He wasn’t sure exactly what Tim would want to show Harley in a tour of the bat cave, but honestly?

He wasn’t going to ask. It was nice to have something that wasn’t his problem, and he trusted Tim and Harley, together or separately.

It wasn’t like Tim would bring anyone else down to the cave.

——————

😇

I regret nothing.

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna

Next Chapter:

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dp x dc #dpxdc #dead on main ship #danny x jason #never make a promise you can’t keep #jason: oh man danny must be so sick of me i’m taking up all of his time 😔 #danny: dang i gotta go back to school soon instead of spending 24 hours a day with my new bestie this is clearly normal to be sad about #and suddenly constantine was there! wooooo #gonna try and wrap up waylon and harvey next chapter (wish me luck) #we gots bigger fish to fry 😏 #and maybe a justice league meeting just for fun #chapter 12 #counting is hard

[backstrom19]

What game is this of Willy’s suspension again?

#counting is hard #caps lb

[wanderthrubooks]

Counting the Omer update

G-d: please do something every day in a sequence

Me: got it

My ADD brain: oh man I do not got it

#omer #counting the omer #adhd #counting is hard #week 2 being discipline is perfect

[theoldbrewery]

#counting is hard

[questionmarksys]

That relatable moment when you're committing vandalism and forget how to count -Multiple Alters

I raised this system correctly😌 -Sam

#for legal purposes this is a joke #counting is hard

[cali]

inferno darling groudon supervises the end of a lot of things

crops and a link to this as a print

#my longest biggest hardest picture ever #if u love me zoom in and wade thru the lava and all that #art #i worked on this since that anon sent me a message let me check #JANUARY 10TH! #i work slow though #but it was 52 hours i counted #and my head changed a lot while working on it and it was very hard and and and and and #and im happy im done but also happy with the picturee 👍

[curio-queries]

When BTS said they wanna do 10 days for 10 year anniversary of FESTA...

They must have referenced this counting guide:

Just a few more than 10. 😋

#apobangpo10 #bangtan sonyeondan #festa #counting is hard

[starshine-hockey-girl]

Learn to count dumdums....

#kraken lb #counting is hard

[cpunkhobie]

do you ever do that thing where you say no to your sibling but end up doing that thing anyway , ft. leo vulnerability issues

(theyre both wearing mobility aids on their knees. donnie has 1 compression sleeve and leo has 2 compression sleeves with a knee brace)

#jonah with a pen #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #disaster twins #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #leo rottmnt #Donnie rottmnt #honestly idk if compression sleeves count as mobility aids but its rlly hard for me to walk without them(even with a brace) so I’m 90% sure #They are ^ ^” at least for me #rise tag

[distorted-graffiti]

they could be the worlds worst polycule

#FOR ANYONE WONDERING: YES THIS IS A REDRAW OF THAT ONE ‘why do women only like guys who treat them like shit’ MEME #i think this may be my worst post yet. #dont look too hard at the proportions i just needed to get this outta my system. #described #ultrakill #gabv1el #ferryv2 #not sure if i should tag ferrygabe and v4v tbh #would this be counted as ferrygabv4vel #is that even a tag????

[britcision]

Possible alternate titles for this chapter include “It’s Tim Drake Not Tim Break Because He Can’t Fucking Catch One”

Also, yet more new characters arrive! Who will it be! 😈

By the time I finish a chapter I always forget what I wanted to tell you lot around it. Every time. It’s amazing, I wish I was this punctual for good reasons

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

———————

Thinking Shit Through Is Not A Halfa Trait

Jason hadn’t really expected to get through the night without at least a pissy phone call from B to ignore, but hell. It was the next day, mid afternoon, and so far so good.

Someone must have distracted the old bat. He’d have to find out which sibling to thank. Scrubbing a hand across his face, he stifled a yawn and headed for kitchen.

There was surprisingly little left of the detritus from their snack run; two halfas could apparently eat to beat a bear. Jason swiped most of the trash into the garbage can and glanced around.

He didn’t exactly keep most of his safe houses stocked with edibles, especially not anything that might go off in between uses. He’d seen more than enough of Dick’s fridge to know better.

But Danny had stayed over, and would probably be up soon, and again: eat to beat a bear. They could order take out. It was just…

Jason felt fucking good. Mellow, relaxed in a way he could barely remember ever having felt before. And when he felt good, he liked to cook.

He could also order groceries in.

Humming softly to himself, he reached for his Red Hood phone and tapped in some instructions. Nothing super fancy, but maybe he wanted to flex a little.

Was it weird to use his criminal empire to get groceries? Maybe, but at least he fucking paid his guys. They’d be over soon too, and he trusted them to get him what he needed.

Glancing around the safe house, he figured he might as well clean up a little.

He’d carried Danny to the bed last night after they’d both fallen asleep on the couch. Who knew constant nightmares were good for something?

Waking up with someone else there had given him something to latch onto. By the time he could catch his breath he’d already settled into Danny’s presence, knew where he was.

Seemed like just returning the favour to unscrunch Danny and give him somewhere a little better to sleep.

He’d given in to the sweatpants around when they switched from games to movies, and Danny had borrowed an old sweater to get out of his dress shirt.

Jason had a couple of Tim’s and Cass’s sweaters that’d be close to Danny’s size, but who wanted a tight fitting sweater?

That was definitely the only reason Jason had grabbed one of his. It was big, loose, and comfortable, the fabric soft and thin.

It had fucking drowned Danny, who had lost his shit giggling and promptly flopped the sleeves down over his hands to slap Jason with. Any bad jokes for the rest of the night ended in a variant of “slippity slap, don’t talk crap”.

Danny had snuggled right down into it in his sleep, the hood pulled all the way over his head to hide from the light, and he’d whined a bit when Jason lifted him.

Tough titties, sleepy king, because sleeping on the couch led to cricked necks and aching backs, and Jason needed something to take care of after that nightmare.

He wouldn’t have hated it if Danny did wake up, but at least one of them slept like the dead. Guy snuggled right down into the bed too, wrapping himself into an immediate blanket burrito.

He also weighed about as much as a wet baby kitten, which Jason would tease him about if he hadn’t been lifted just as easily and flown away with.

The couch was way better when he could stretch himself out across the whole thing, and had robbed a couple of pillows. He hadn’t even had another nightmare.

But they’d left fancy clothing all over the place, and Jason had no idea what Danny’d wear to head home. There were spare clothes, but he probably needed to keep the suit.

Jason made his way through the sitting room gathering and sorting the suits, each over a side of the couch. Jacket, pants, shirts, ties…

A little imp of mischief took him and he switched the ties again. Not like it fucking mattered which one they each took home, and if Danny cared he could ask.

He also found one and a half of Danny’s socks, which was frankly concerning. That or Danny had one normal sock and an ankle sock, which wouldn’t be the biggest surprise.

Jason tossed it onto Danny’s pile anyway, and went hunting for shoes. The groceries arrived before he had any luck, and he paused to grab them.

It was one of his street kids, a mouthy little bugger named Jess who didn’t actually know Hood without the helmet, but was always happy to chat with Jason.

She looked a little pale, actually. Bags under her eyes, thin in the cheeks. Jason made sure all his runners had warm places to crash and enough to eat, but winter was rough.

Abandoning the shoes for now, he jerked a thumb towards the kitchen.

“I’m making pancakes. You can have the first three and take the cookies,” he said tersely, knowing if he sounded worried she’d read it as pity.

The cookies had been a treat for whoever did the run anyway. Only thing on the list that didn’t involve cooking.

Brown eyes narrowed up at him, examining his face, and then she nodded, carrying the grocery bags in.

“Didn’t get pancake mix,” she warned, hopping up to sit on the dining room table as he got to work.

Best get her out of here before Danny woke up. Jason wasn’t looking to drop the Red Hood connection yet, and frankly Danny didn’t need the encouragement to bastardise Jason’s furniture.

He made a dismissive tut at her words, pulling ingredients from the bag and getting to work with a practiced hand.

“Pancake mix is for soccer moms,” he told her over his shoulder, measuring flour and baking powder. They might not be staples in his brothers’ safe houses, but Jason had fucking standards.

Steph kept them in hers so she could bully Jason into cooking for her. Didn’t take much bullying.

Jess made a sceptical noise back, peering at what he was doing and he turned to lean against the counter so she could see.

Wets in one bowl, dries in the other. Dries into wets, mix. Pancakes were easy. A little vanilla, a little cinnamon and nutmeg, and soon the smells of the holidays were filling the flat.

Jess was already shifting closer, watching the pan covetously as he stood over them, waiting for the tell tale bubbles. She wouldn’t ask questions; Alley kids didn’t.

He pointed his spatula into the pan.

“They’re ready to flip when you see the batter on the top bubble,” he explained, and she did her very best impression of a teenager who didn’t give a shit.

No skin off his nose. She might need to know some day.

He flipped the first high into the air and caught it in the pan, just to see her crack a grin. Two and three followed, and a minute later he popped all three on a paper plate.

There were sounds coming from the bedroom. Jess had clearly also noticed, her grin creeping towards the knowing, and he nodded to the door sharply.

“Scram. Don’t forget the cookies,” he added as she hopped off the table.

She paused in the doorway, looking between them and the bedroom.

“Hood in there?” She asked with far too much calculated innocence for her age.

The thought made Jason smile, which she clearly took as an answer, bolting before he knew if she thought it confirmed or denied her guess.

He didn’t really mind if the Alley kids thought he was fucking Red Hood. They all knew his face, and it’d keep any of them away from thinking he might actually be the big boss.

Them finding out he was that Jason, Freshly Alive Jason Todd-Wayne, might be more of a problem, but hell. He was born in Crime Alley, and had lived here for years since his revival.

Anyone who did have a problem would find that opinion pretty fucking unpopular among Red Hood’s lieutenants. They might not know his link to Hood, but they knew the boss liked Jason, and that he always took care of them.

Danny’s revelation about Sam brought a broader grin to his face and he chuckled. Maybe they’d think he was Hood’s sugar daddy.

The opposite rumour had made the rounds more than once, and Jess might just have left to set it going again. Jason just made sure he knew who was running the pool, and that he got a bet in.

Chuckling to himself he poured out another set of pancake batter and dug out another paper plate. No point putting toppings away until he knew what Danny would want.

The man himself made a sleepy appearance just as Jason slid the next lot of pancakes onto a plate. Something lurched uncomfortably in Jason’s chest when he saw Danny was still wearing the sweater… and little else.

The sleeve had flopped down over his hand again and he hadn’t bothered to pull it back down as he rubbed his face, yawning widely.

He looked fucking adorable. It lit something soft and warm inside Jason, spreading easily into his mellow. And into a low, rumbling purr that almost made Jason drop the pan.

The fuck was that?

It must have been a halfa thing, because Danny purred right back without appearing to notice, flopping into a chair at the table.

Deciding he could ask later, Jason slid the plate of pancakes in front of him, along with cutlery. No point bringing them separately; Danny would probably use his hands.

After adding syrup.

Jason was not going to be following that train of thought any further.

Danny made an appreciative noise as the pancakes registered, looking more attentively at the rest of the table. Jason gestured to the syrups, jams, and fruit.

“Wasn’t sure what you liked, but I figured one of us will get through the lot,” he explained, and Danny just stared at him for a long moment.

“Dude, fucking marry me,” he finally sighed, reaching out to grab a syrup and drizzle it over his pancakes.

Ignoring the sudden heat at the back of his neck, Jason chuckled and turned back to the stove, pouring out another set of pancakes.

“Yeah, well, there’ll be more when you’re done those if you want ‘em. We have plenty of batter.” Maybe a little too much, but it wasn’t like there wasn’t always someone craving pancakes.

Danny hummed happily, mouth already full by the time he thought to ask.

“Holy fu’in shi’ these are amazing. Ha’ you ea’en?” It came out muffled as fuck but not unintelligible, and Jason shrugged.

“Nah, I’m gonna have the hot fresh ones when you’re done the ones that started cooling,” he snarked, leaning against the counter to keep an eye on the stove.

Pretty sure he caught Danny frowning in between bites, but it wasn’t like he was lying. He’d get the nice fresh pancakes eventually, and he’d learned the fine art of patience.

He was just flipping the last pancake when something small and beige floated in from the corner of his eye. Turning he almost stepped back into the stove away from a bite sized piece of pancake.

Danny, still sat at the table, smirked at him while still chewing.

“You gotta ea’,” he said smugly.

The bite of pancake closed in.

Jason considered his options. Danny fucking would hit him in the face with syrupy pancake. No two ways about it.

Of all the people in the world who did not need telekinesis…

Throwing dignity to the wind, he leaned forward to try and catch it in his mouth without smearing syrup across his face. Whether Danny was trying to help or hinder this effort was not clear.

Still, it seemed to satisfy him as he went back to his own pancakes. Jason dropped off a fresh stack and reluctantly accepted another forkful, rolling his eyes.

At least Danny let him have the actual fork this time.

“If I knew you were such a fuckin’ mother hen I’d have just ordered cereal,” he told his king. Danny stuck his tongue out at him.

“Says the bitch who decided to make a whole ass pancake breakfast with toppings while I was in bed. A bed I did not go to sleep in, by the way, so thanks for that too.”

Jason considered arguing the point. Ultimately didn’t bother. He didn’t like fights he couldn’t win.

“The faster you eat the sooner I do,” he pointed out instead, heading back to the stove and pouring more batter.

Ducked a strawberry flying at his head. Whether Danny actually threw it or not didn’t really matter. He caught it as it circled back and ate it.

“Or you eat the next stack yourself and I’ll take the stove,” Danny argued behind him, half a pancake ready to be stuffed in his mouth.

Jason considered arguing again. On principle more than anything else; he enjoyed cooking, and enjoyed having someone around to eat his food.

It felt comfortably domestic, which couldn’t really be said about much of his life before. Almost like the days he’d spent learning to cook with Alfred.

Alfred never sat and ate with them. Jason fucking hated that.

Sighing to himself, he pulled down another paper plate. At the table behind him Danny cheered in victory and Jason snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Do you even know how to make pancakes?“ he asked, not quite looking for an out so much as wondering how fast he should eat.

Danny just shrugged, now dumping jam on his pancakes.

“So long as they don’t fight back I’ll be fine. Bubbles on the top, right?”

Abandoning the pancakes for now, Jason turned and squinted at him.

“I have this weird feeling that isn’t a rhetorical statement,” he said dryly. Danny grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

“That’s because you are smarter than you look. And why you don’t keep ectoplasm in the kitchen,” he added more thoughtfully and shrugged.

Jason made a face.

“And yet you still want me to fucking eat it?” He’d not exactly liked the idea before, and this wasn’t helping.

Danny just shrugged again.

“Hey, at least it doesn’t reanimate the food inside you?” He offered, like that was a normal collection of words to say.

Jason stared at him long enough for one of the pancakes to begin to burn. Hurriedly flipping the lot, he turned back to glare at a snickering Danny.

“Well I wasn’t fuckin’ worried about that before,” he said dryly, keeping half an eye on his now slightly charred pancakes.

Danny chuckled, stuffing the last jammy pancake in his mouth and rising.

“And now you don’t have to. We do gotta get your ecto-snack situation sorted today though. We kinda got side tracked with the gala stuff,” he mused, coming to join Jason at the stove.

He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean Jason was eager to start chugging the green goo. Sighing to himself, Jason poured his pancakes onto his plate.

“I’m not eating the pancakes if you burn them,” he warned then headed to the table.

Sure, he and Danny weren’t technically sitting and eating together, but it wouldn’t feel right to hover. All the damn syrups were still on the table too.

Danny gave him a thumbs up, dolloping out three pancakes a little larger than Jason had, and swearing when their edges immediately ran together. Teach him to mess with perfection.

“Ah fuck… so I guess the question is, Jason Todd-Wayne, what do you wanna do with the first day of the rest of your life?”

And wasn’t that a good fucking question?

**

Bruce slowly lowered his Justice League Dark communicator until he could glower at it, plastic casing creaking in his grip.

Fourteen hours. Fourteen whole hours since he had asked to speak to John Constantine, and none of their so called mages could be bothered to find him.

Nor had any of them ventured an opinion on the Amity Park situation, though Zatanna had promised to look into it. No, they all insisted that only Constantine had seen that file.

Probably because he was already successfully evading Bruce. But that would not last forever.

Tired red eyes turned back towards the multiple screens of the Batcomputer, the rest of the night’s failed searches.

There was plenty to read on Amity Park. All about the fabled hauntings, the tourist trap, various budding ghost hunters and paranormal enthusiasts daring each other to go or telling each other not to bother.

Amity Park was quiet now, apparently. There was still the occasional blurry, mostly static footage of a “ghost attack”, narrated like a play at the puppy bowl, but for the most part the internet had deemed Amity Park a dead zone.

And it all dated back to the same rough time period as those hundreds of calls to the Justice League. The same time from which Amity Park had never called for aid again.

It could be that whatever was attacking them, whatever had been mistaken for ghosts or a hoax, had been beaten. Had gone away on its own.

Bruce Wayne did not believe in that kind of luck.

There was nothing official within the city’s limits.

Not a school transcript for Daniel James Fenton, transferred to Gotham University after two successful years at the University of Illinois.

Nor for Samantha Manson, or Tucker “Too Fine” Foley, a hacker seemingly skilled enough to have Tim and Barbara running into walls at every turn.

There was, however, one thing that Tim had come up with last night after he’d returned. There were no social media accounts that listed Amity Park as a current address.

There was an ever growing crop of new accounts that claimed to be from Amity Park alums. And some of them had clearly noticed some censorship.

A particular young lady with long dark hair had gone on an impassioned video rant, and while she had not said the words Amity Park, she had avoided them pointedly and deliberately.

Clearly the people moving away from Amity Park had noticed that their social media was locked down. Apparently Tucker had even mentioned it, but Tim had expected to find a work around.

There was no work around. Tucker’s PDA must have been his from Amity Park. Fortunately the man would still be in town, and Tim had agreed to catch him before he left.

If there was a way for them to look into Amity Park, Foley would likely know first hand. Bruce trusted Tim to get the information they needed.

He refused to let Bruce enter anything about an organisation called the GIW into the Batcomputer. Seeing the defences around Amity Park, Bruce had reluctantly agreed.

Still, the lack of data was infuriating.

Jason was still with Danny, and Bruce had a terrible sinking feeling that Danny Fenton had a lot to do with what was wrong with Amity Park.

No point trying to talk to Jason while the two were together. He’d have gone looking for them last night to try some recon instead, but Alfred had hidden his grappling hooks.

Bruce knew he shouldn’t swing through the city with a concussion; Alfred wasn’t wrong to have done so. It was why he hadn’t objected.

He’d tried sending Tim to spy on Jason Danny in his place, but Tim had insisted he had better avenues to investigate.

Bruce would find the time to have that talk with Jason, though. About the gala, but more importantly about just what he really knew about Danny Fenton.

Dick had given them what they’d presumed was a vigilante alias; “Phantom”. It seemed that Danny expected them to look him up.

Was he mocking them? Calling himself a ghost in the machine, a data “phantom” that wouldn’t exist? Or perhaps a reference to Amity’s ignored cries for help? The ghosts no one had believed were real?

Somehow Bruce didn’t think so. If Danny knew who they were, he would know the resources at their disposal. Even if Bruce physically had to walk into Amity Park and buy a phone, he would.

There was one other disturbing alternative.

The Fenton parents had been well known in certain scientific and parascientific circles for decades now. They were cited in numerous papers, usually only for their inventions. The authors made that clear with a rather worrying level of detail, but not why.

What was so abhorrent about their theoretical work that made their own field shun them? What methods had been bad enough to be decried at the mere mention of their name?

Their home, Fentonworks, was marked as a tourist spot for other ghost hunters, and photographs showed a truly ridiculous space ship design tacked onto the roof.

They had also been laughed out of much of the scientific community for their research on ghosts. Primary interest: destroying any ectoplasmic entities they came across.

Yet he couldn’t find any of their original papers. None of the theories, methods, anything they had published. Even where they had been linked before, instead of the work there were now only bold retractions, apparently by the Fentons’ own hands.

Many of their inventions were weapons. Some that made even him flinch, and he didn’t even believe in the creatures they were designed to hurt. And for all that the design specs insisted they wouldn’t harm humans… Bruce doubted it.

Had this couple put weapons in their childrens’ hands when Amity Park was under attack? Had Danny and his sister, Jazz, been drafted into a fight that should have been the Justice League’s?

Bruce hadn’t expected that Danny would have seen anything in Amity Park to rival Killer Croc, but now he kept replaying those first moments of the fight.

Danny hadn’t been angry. He hadn’t been scared. He had been gleeful, throwing himself at a massive green man with teeth and claws. And while none of his fighting was exactly professional, there was a shadow of training there.

Of experience.

Bruce did not like to think what that experience might be.

Because… Amity Park may have stopped calling to the Justice League because they’d won, and were no longer in danger.

Or they may have stopped calling because there was no one left to be saved.

**

“Oh, and we’ve definitely gotta see Sam and Tucker before they go, you still need your Fenton Phone,” Danny pointed out over another bite of pancake.

He’d done a reasonable job of cooking, so they’d traded off a couple more times and finally split the last batch between them to share at the table.

It was nice; better than taking turns, and while their day planning had been pretty sporadic, Danny felt good about today.

Of course, he’d gotten to sleep in and woken to The Best Pancake Breakfast Imaginable, so it was already a great day. Jason chuckled across from him, and Danny let the easy grin take over as he chewed.

“Right, I forgot that too. Guess we were just too busy with the whole gala thing,” the taller man mused, a fond smile on his own face.

Jason had a really pretty smile. Danny got the feeling he didn’t do it often enough; not because of anything overt he said or did, but just for the little moments.

Where Jason would be laughing then stop, like he couldn’t quite remember how laughing worked. The occasional moments of surprise in his aura when Danny grinned at him.

And that was just plain illegal around Team Phantom, so Danny was gonna make him laugh and smile as often as he physically could.

Now, he grinned right back, reaching out to gently kick him in the shins.

“Hey, that was also a super important mission. We’ve just gotta do our ghost homework before your next visit to Frostbite so you don’t have to witness the Sad Yeti Face.”

He was mostly kidding, but Frostbite did have an uncanny ability to make Danny feel bad whenever he didn’t follow instructions. Most of his teachers would have killed for such an ability.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t stop smiling as he shrugged.

“Okay, so ectoplasm horror stories aside, it’s gonna take me a couple days to source a fucking lead lined vault to store the stuff in. That mean we’ll push back the visit to Frostbite too?” He asked and Danny hummed thoughtfully.

“It has already been a couple days… guess it’s up to you. How are you feeling?” Danny asked, cocking his head curiously.

No matter what Frostbite said, Jason’s aura didn’t exactly feel all that different to Danny. He still didn’t quite feel like a ghost, couldn’t feel a core.

Maybe the ectoplasm residue felt stronger? But honestly Danny wouldn’t swear to it. It wasn’t like there were defined levels to that stuff.

Jason considered the question for a while too, probably taking stock. Like Danny had said, it had been a couple days. But they hadn’t exactly been together for most of them.

Frostbite figured a couple days directly in the zone, maybe a couple more here. With Danny. Although they also didn’t exactly know how much proximity mattered.

Same city probably wouldn’t cut it, honestly… unless it had been going on all year, and they were just nearly done?

Too many variables. And Danny had the joy of watching Jason come to what was actually probably literally the same conclusion as the larger man sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“Honestly? I feel good,” he admitted, sounding more like he regretted that. Or like he couldn’t believe it? “I feel more like myself than I have in years. I just… don’t feel different. More ghosty or whatever.”

Danny hummed thoughtfully at that, playing with his cutlery on the plate. It did make him wonder too.

“It’s been a long time since I first changed, but honestly? I don’t remember feeling all that different, in my human form. It was more that I had a whole bunch of extra powers to try and control.”

Jason made another face, stabbing his last bite of pancake.

“Yeah, that part too… how are we gonna keep that quiet? Seems like it’ll be pretty obvious if I’m gonna start falling through walls and shit.”

Musta to have noticed that as funny as Danny’s old accident stories were, they were also gonna be his soon.

Danny could be magnanimous now that he was the one with the experience. And he’d never had to deal with a bunch of nosey bats. Just stupid teenagers.

Keeping Jason’s secret was gonna be a lot harder.

Pursing his lips, he drummed his fingers against the table. If only there were more halfas.

“Okay, so… the way I developed my powers was different from Vlad, cuz I changed right away and he changed slowly. You’re sorta in between, so I don’t know exactly what’ll happen?”

He glanced over at Jason, who did not look noticeably reassured. Smart guy. Danny puffed a breath up to ruffle his bangs.

“Keeping our theme of honesty? Might be easiest if you can hide out in the zone for a month or so. You’ll get better the more you use your powers, and I or someone else can be around to get you out if you phase into something and get stuck.”

Jason groaned and propped his elbows on the table, dropping his head into his hands.

“I cannot just disappear for a month,” he grumbled, hands fisting in his hair in frustration.

Which, yeah. Danny could sympathise. He shrugged.

“I mean, I’ll definitely be around if you get stuck here too? And it might not be that long, depending on how much you can actually use ‘em. I lived at home, I had to be subtle,” he reminded Jason.

Still not noticeably comforted. Gee, it was almost like this whole half ghost process fucking sucked. It was nice to have someone who finally got that.

Although… there had been one thing that always helped Danny get a handle on his powers.

“We could always half and half it?” He offered, spreading his hands and grinning. “You work out how long you can be away for without raising suspicion. We go on a couple short Ghost Zone vacations and do the Ghost Powers Speedrun.”

Jason raised a brow slowly again, leaning back and away from the table. He looked decidedly suspicious because again, smarter than he looked.

“And why wasn’t that the first plan?” He asked warily. Danny’s grin may have ticked a little to the wicked.

“Cuz originally I was gonna be nice to you. The speedrun version is pretty much just bootcamp. Remember I said fighting was a social thing for ghosts?“ he asked, grin spreading when Jason’s eyes narrowed immediately.

Yeah, he was following. And didn’t look scared, which was nice.

Jason huffed out a laugh and shook his head, his white patch of hair flopping just adorably.

“So the speedrun version is just Fight Club huh?” He asked dryly and Danny cackled.

“It’s me and maybe some friends kicking your ass til you can kick ours back,” he agreed and Jason snickered, folding his arms and smirking.

“So we’ll only be gone overnight. Good to know,” he said casually, chin rising just enough he could look down at Danny.

And fuck it should be illegal to look that good while still being a smug little fucker, buuuut Danny was half ghost. Even just thinking about a fight was pepping him up.

“Oooh, I’m telling Ember you said that,” Danny snickered, catching up his phone.

Making a note to remind himself. Wishing dearly he could get some of the younger ghosts to just remember that phones existed.

The memes in an all ghost group chat would be killer.

Jason looked thoughtful for a moment, like he’d already memorised the whole damn database. Hell, who knew what Robin training looked like? He might have.

But Danny was still pretty confident that no matter what Robin training included, Jason wasn’t gonna be prepared for his first ghost fight.

The Justice League always had such a hard time with enemies you couldn’t just punch. Although he was kinda excited to see if Jason still had any of his old Robin moves.

It’d be something to see a six foot tank of a man fight like a twink.

Fuck, it wasn’t like Danny had been paying much attention, but hadn’t the second Robin been tiny? He was sure he remembered Sam losing her shit about something like that.

Better not tell Jason though. No matter how he felt about teen heroes, odds he’d be happy to learn about Sam’s anti twink hero phase? Less than none.

Memorised the whole database or not, Jason must have placed the name, because he smirked again.

“Guitar ghost? Yeah, not worried. But you’d better have a whole lot more than you showed against Croc, or I’ll be the Ghost King next.”

Suddenly Danny was very very seriously considering throwing the fight.

Jason obviously noticed, cackling as he leant back in his chair.

“Hey, you could be my knight instead,” he teased, and Danny had to grin at that.

“Is it weird that I’d actually be way more comfortable that way ‘round?” He asked and Jason snickered.

Like there was a joke Danny wasn’t quite in on yet.

“Oh, fucking definitely. Trash talk aside though, your hand to hand needs work. No doubt you’ve got great ghost fighting skills,” he added, raising both hands before Danny could protest, “but you leave yourself way too open. If we’re doing Fight Club, maybe I’ll teach you some shit too.”

Oooh, Robin training indeed. Danny wasn’t ashamed to admit he fit the body type way more than Jason did now; big guy might have some moves he could use.

Just like the Robins, most of Danny’s opponents were a lot bigger than him. It’d be nice to have some of that cool flippy spinny shit to really fuck with Skulker next time he came around.

Danny leaned across the table, hand outstretched.

“Deal. Hey, can you teach me to do that flippy bullshit too?”

Jason leaned in to meet him, clasping his hand and grinning back, a slightly nostalgic look in his eye.

“Hell yeah. Though if you want the really fancy flippy bullshit, we might have to tag in Dick. I’m pretty fuckin’ good but he’s the acrobat,” he explained when Danny cocked his head curiously.

Danny hesitated for a moment, then shrugged it off. It wasn’t like Dick wasn’t gonna know his whole ghost deal by the next time they hung out.

“That’d be pretty cool actually. Is he the one who taught you?” He wondered, and watched Jason’s expression go through a dozen twisted emotions.

His aura leaned into the fond-sad-nostalgia-heart break. He hadn’t pulled his hand back. Danny gripped it a little tighter and didn’t relax til he felt Jason squeeze back.

“Yeah,” he admitted after a moment, voice just the littlest bit choked, “he spent weeks just teaching me how to fall safely. Said it was the first step in learning to fly.”

Before Jason died then. There was a weight of history to the words, and Danny didn’t try to answer it. Any comment he could make would just come out cheap.

**

“Trust me, you do not wanna go down there,” Tim warned without looking up, sitting sideways in Bruce’s office chair with his tablet on his knees.

Duke hesitated, looking from him to the old grandfather clock which hid the Batcave entrance. He’d been about to go and change for his afternoon patrol, but…

Well, he’d been in the cave already that morning. Seen the state Bruce and Tim were working themselves and each other up to. If Tim had fled the cave…

“How bad is it?” He asked cautiously, coming to cock his hip on the desk.

Tim was back in civvies, so not the very worst. On the other hand, he clearly hadn’t been to bed yet.

Which could just be normal Tim, honestly. But sticking around the manor?

Tim sighed, waving a hand at head height.

“B’s hunting Constantine like a bloodhound, and the JL Dark aren’t helping. It’s safer out of the line of fire. Did you catch last night’s briefing?”

It was a generous way to refer to the fucking spam in their vigilante group chat, but honestly? Given what he’d seen this morning, Duke wasn’t surprised.

As meticulous as Bruce usually was about reports, he also wouldn’t start them until he felt he had the data he wanted to cover.

It was never a fucking good sign when Bruce couldn’t find the piece of evidence he’d deemed essential over night, but Tim had put together a pretty concerning list of bullet points.

1. They still had no fucking clue what Danny meant about “Phantom”.

2. Amity Park had undergone something utterly disastrous about four years ago.

3. They couldn’t learn a damn thing about Amity Park from the outside.

Aaaand most fun of all, 4. They needed to catch up with Sam and Tucker again before either of them left town. See what intel they could get and if Tucker could help with their tech problem.

Duke was kinda looking forward to seeing them out of costume. They’d both seemed pretty cool, if a little old.

Yeah, he could justify ditching patrol to get some intel instead. He’d already been out in the morning anyway. He gave Tim a slightly lopsided smile.

“Yeah, I did. This your way of asking if I’m coming for milkshakes?” He asked casually, and paused when Tim blue-screened.

No. Way.

“If you’re what?” Tim asked faintly, staring into space instead of at his tablet.

If Duke thought he had a chance of getting away with it… he flicked his civilian phone out casually, raising it to show Tim and “coincidentally” flipping to his camera.

“Coming for milkshakes with the Amity Parkers,” he said casually, hitting record. It wasn’t the most natural angle to hold it at, but he had Tim’s face in focus and that’s what mattered.

If there was even a tiny chance Tim had been railing at the same list since Duke left this morning… oh man, this’d be good.

“You know, in the group chat.”

Tim’s tablet would have clattered to the floor if Duke hadn’t hastily shaped a shadow to catch it, hiding his grin as Tim nearly fell off his chair fighting his civilian phone out of his pocket.

Duke leaned back and kept recording, not needing to be subtle now that Tim’s focus was wholly fixed on the group chat.

Which had been blowing up since last night with selfies from Steph and Cass and their sleepover buddy, Tucker Foley. Looked like they’d been having a fantastic time too.

There were face masks, painting their nails, Tucker braiding Cass’s hair while she braided Steph’s, honestly it was all adorable.

Duke’s favourite was probably the last one from the previous night, Cass throwing a peace sign and leaning over to take a selfie beside the sleeping bodies of Steph and Tucker, curled around each other like puppies.

Tucker was wearing one of Steph’s oversized sweaters and spare track pants that were probably Dick’s, and Steph had actual pyjamas on. They’d clearly passed out half way through a movie.

Tim scrolled quickly through the pictures, mouth working silently. Duke could spot the exact moment he got to their conversation that morning, because he began mouthing along.

‘TheCainInstinct: Tucker says he must leave by tomorrow to return to school. Lunch plans?’

‘NotJustACop: make it early dinner & I can come by before my shift?’

‘StephBrownies(fanaticalthings tumblr): your shift doing what?’

‘NotJustACop: fuck u’

‘TheCainInstinct: changed your name for nothing’

‘StephBrownies: see you for dinner Dickie’

‘NotJustACop: nope don’t want to now’

‘StephBrownies: rofl then perish’

The bullying went on for a while, but ended with an agreement to meet for milkshakes at the mall. Just like normal young adults.

Apparently Tucker had already messaged Sam, and Jason had tagged in about half an hour ago to say he and Danny would join.

Duke had thought he’d be on patrol, but he’d be changing that response just as soon as…

Tim reached the end of the chat, stared at his phone for a long, despairing moment, then threw it backwards over his head and screamed into his hands.

Grinning to himself, Duke straightened and started backing towards the door, ready to run. The best part of the show was probably over.

“So, if we take your bike we can probably beat Danny and Jason to the mall?” He asked cheerfully.

Tim’s head snapped up, locked onto Duke’s phone, and his brows drew in. Duke ended the recording, turned, and ran.

Yeah, probably not both taking Tim’s bike. That was fine, Duke could head to the mall in what he was wearing.

He sent copies of the video to the family group chat and Babs directly, confirmed he was on his way, and stuffed his phone into his pocket without breaking stride.

All he had to do was avoid Tim’s clutches. No big deal.

**

Jason’s phone dinged and he glanced at it, then chuckled softly to himself.

“Guess Tim forgot to check the group chat,” he mused, putting his phone in the middle of the table where Danny could see it.

Someone had sent them a video. Well, sent Jason a video, but he was happy to share. Danny could just about recognise Tim, in sweatpants, massive eye bags, and makeup free.

Didn’t look like he’d slept since the gala. Or checked his phone, apparently, and Danny chuckled as he wrestled the thing out and began scrolling.

They’d gone through the pictures after finishing the pancakes, and they were all pretty cute. Danny was keeping some to send to Tucker’s sister.

Not quite enough to warrant the depths of that scream though, even if Tim did have the crush the Waynes all seemed to think he did. Raising a brow at Jason, Danny leaned both forearms on the table.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” He asked, lip ticking up into a half smile. Definitely a fun video, but he had the feeling he was missing context.

Jason chuckled to himself, glancing over at the other phone still beside the cooker. Danny wasn’t gonna ask. Better not have Bat stuff on his regular phone.

“Right, I forgot to tell you. Turns out they’ve had some trouble running down any information about Amity Park, and Tim spent most of the night beating his head against a wall,” he explained perfectly cheerfully.

Danny snickered along, then paused.

“Wait, was Tim at Wayne Manor?” He asked. Jason nodded cheerfully, giving a vague hand wave.

“Secret vigilante section, but yup,” he agreed cheerfully. A slow grin crept across Danny’s face.

“The same place Cass and Steph brought Tucker for their sleepover?” Danny asked slowly, although he really did know the answer at this point.

Jason’s grin was all delighted sibling violence.

“Yep,” he agreed again, popping the p. Danny snorted a laugh and shook his head, running both hands through his hair.

“Man I hope no one tells him that part before we get there…” he mused, glancing around the apartment. It wasn’t like he had much he’d need to bring.

He’d sort of been thinking about running home to change first, but Jason’s sweater worked. Now all he needed was pants. Not like the cold worried him.

Something else seemed to have occurred to Jason though.

“Actually… speaking of my family. You, uh… you’d know if Cass was like us, right?” He asked a little hesitantly.

Danny had to admit he was a little surprised by the question, but honestly? He hadn’t been kidding that the family was touched by death. He sat back, frowning thoughtfully as he considered what he’d seen of Cass.

Her death mark had definitely been the closest to Jason’s, but Damian had a taint of ectoplasm too. Still… if Jason’s contamination was faint, theirs were almost nonexistent.

More like a flavour in the back of his mouth than anything real. Way less than Tucker and Sam’s contamination, but that was to be expected; they’d grown up in Amity Park.

They’d been seasoned like soup.

Finally he shrugged again, leaning back in his chair.

“I would know, but… I don’t think she’s on her way to halfa status yet. She might be liminal, like the rest of my lot, and if she comes into contact with more ectoplasm it could always change? Why?”

Something had to have prompted the question.

Jason half smiled back, looking almost sheepish as he rose and started clearing the table. Danny hurried to help; they hadn’t put as much of a dent in the toppings as expected, but hey.

Snacks for later.

“It’s nothing really… just had the thought last night. Cass has a way of… understanding people. What you really mean, what you aren’t saying. Part of it’s body language, she was basically trained to do that more than talking, but… she gets me. Like you do.”

And that was just fucking adorable and Danny would be having the warm fuzzies about being compared to the clearly cherished baby sister later, but for now?

He frowned thoughtfully.

“I mean, there’s a chance she got some of the aura stuff. It’s different for everyone but the liminals… let’s just say you’ve heard Sam swear in ghostspeak, and when I say that PDA is part of Tucker’s body? I’m not kidding.”

Tucker’s connection to his tech was a little weird even for Danny still, who had to fuse bits of his ectoplasm into half of it to keep it running in the Ghost Zone.

Jason looked grudgingly impressed anyway, but still mostly concerned. They were talking about his baby sister just barely clinging to her humanity.

Danny gave him a gentle nudge of safe-won’t hurt-she’ll be okay, and knew Jason felt it when he rolled his eyes. Pushed fuck off-not stupid-I know-thank you back.

“So should we… tell her?” He asked a little more cautiously, a small frown on his face.

Yeah, wasn’t fun to tell people they’d come dancing too close to death to be legally considered people anymore. Though he’d have to take a closer look to be sure.

Danny pursed his lips for a moment, snagging an apple and taking a large bite. Chewed and even mostly swallowed before answering.

“Well, I can take another look at her first and see how bad it is? The little guy too, they’ve both been in the ecto. If it’s done anything to them, we can let them know then,” he added, Jason looking slightly alarmed that another of his siblings was… kinda still dead.

Still, might as well do their due diligence. Danny fixed Jason with a Look.

“But they’re gonna ask about you if we tell them.”

Seemed pretty inevitable to him, but from the way Jason’s shoulders suddenly tensed, he hadn’t thought about it.

When he hadn’t drawn another breath about a minute later, Danny gave him a gentle nudge.

“Look, it’s probably nothing. Maybe we mention it as part of your big reveal instead, once you’ve had time to come to terms with it. They gotta know to steer clear of those Lazarus Pits anyway,” he offered like an olive branch.

Jason grimaced.

“Trust me, we all already know that,” he grumbled, and Danny leaned in automatically.

It meant he felt Jason tense this time, but he didn’t move away. Let Danny take a little of his weight.

“Hey. She’s gonna be okay. Just like we are, right?” He prompted gently, and Jason snorted.

“Well I don’t fuckin’ know about you, but I wouldn’t call how I was doing last week “okay”,” he said sharply, and immediately shut down again.

Danny frowned, not quite sure how much he should pry into that. He’d never actually asked what brought Jason out to his own grave that night.

Obvious answer was something to do with the pit and its overwhelming anger, but just how much had it been hurting him? What had it been pushing him to try and do?

They really didn’t know each other that well, for all they’d been forced to info dump their lives. It was hard to remember, especially when things were going well; Jason just. Fit right into Danny’s life.

Like there’d always been a 6’ hole craving a musclebound tank to fill it. A sassy fucker who’d crack death jokes with him, tell him to fuck off and swear to protect him in the same breath.

Another boy who’d died violently, alone, and so badly needed the world to make sense again.

Catching Jason’s wrist before he could pull away, Danny pulled Jason around to face him instead.

“Dude. Last week you were alone with cranky ass ghosts in your blood, and no idea what the fuck to do about it. It’s better now, right?”

For a second he wasn’t sure what Jason would say. If he’d pull back. It felt like the other man was tensed and waiting for a surge of anger, something he’d have to fight back down.

Really wasn’t kidding about the pit fucking him up.

Jason was so fucking scared of himself that it made Danny fucking ache.

After a long moment, the taller man nodded his head minutely, and Danny grinned. Deliberately bright and cheerful. Nothing wrong here.

“Think how fuckin’ good it’ll be once you actually know what’s going on,” he offered and Jason snorted a laugh, turning away.

His shoulders were just a little lighter though. Just a little looser.

Danny considered tackling them, but Jason probably wasn’t quite in the mood to play horsey yet.

“Hey, did I remember to tell you you can probably get eye lasers?” He asked brightly, and Jason glanced back, raising an eyebrow at him.

That tiny smile on his face? That was Danny’s proudest creation yet. Definitely until his damn portal gun started actually working.

“I’m gonna be finding shit you’ve forgotten to mention for the rest of my fuckin’ life, aren’t I?” He asked with exaggerated resignation, like it was such a burden.

Danny snickered and swooned into him anyway, expecting to be shrugged to the floor.

“Well, great news about that, I don’t know if we can technically die of old age anymore? So you might be finding shit I’ve forgotten to mention for the rest of eternity,” he chirped, and Jason groaned dramatically.

Didn’t drop him though. That was another win.

“Not like I ever expected to die of old age,” Jason huffed almost under his breath, and Danny’s grip tightened on him for just a moment.

Yeah.

Danny hadn’t either. Not since he was fourteen.

**

Tim wasn’t in his office when Bruce rode the elevator up. That was… unexpected, but not unwelcome.

The poor boy had left around when Bruce was seriously considering throwing his communicator, and hopefully would be getting some sleep.

Bruce hesitated, glancing out the windows. Sunlight streamed in, the sun already past its zenith.

Had he really been struggling to contact the League for that long?

No, Tim was probably off with Tucker Foley, information gathering. Bruce wouldn’t disturb him; he was barely in the mood for his own quest for information.

Even the Watchtower hadn’t been able to provide any insight into Constantine’s whereabouts. It was frankly infuriating, though he did feel gratified by Clark’s reaction to his news.

Not that Bruce enjoyed upsetting the other man, but… well, it made him feel justified. Like he wasn’t overreacting.

Clark had hardly believed the scale of the problem at first, and Bruce had had to show him the logs. Which is when he learned another charming little detail.

The official Amity Park logs were purged. Tim had delved into deleted files to pull up the hundreds of missed calls, all of which should have remained in the file if they were hoaxes.

Someone had not wanted them to find out what was going on in Amity Park.

Well, when Bruce got his hands on John “Someone” Constantine, they were going to have a very serious talk about proper procedures.

At.

Length.

For now though, he forced the frown to clear and shook his head a few times. It might take him a minute to pull on his full Brucie smile back on, but he’d have time.

He’d need a full shower and change of clothes before he met with Vlad Masters, after all.

Constantine could try and hide the records all he liked, but Masters had been the mayor of Amity Park for years. Including, conveniently enough, the second year that Amity Park had been calling on an almost weekly basis.

One way or another, Bruce was going to get his answers.

**

Jason was… well, not fine, which had been the whole point, but he was doing better by the time they reached the mall.

Riding his bike usually helped, narrowed the world down to a destination and the wind on his face.

Did the mall have anywhere he could get that second helmet? He’d been slacking on that one, though since he now needed a lead lined safe (and probably something more portable to carry a fucking snacking supply of ectoplasm), he supposed he could work harder.

Danny clearly didn’t care, clutching his back like a koala and whooping into the wind. But not all of his prospective passengers were potentially immortal.

It wasn’t great learning which bad feelings didn’t belong to the pit, at least not entirely. He’d kind of really, really hoped this would mean he wasn’t always angry anymore.

Shoulda been smarter than that right from the start. He’d been angry as a Robin too, had been scolded by Bruce more than once for “going too far”.

Perhaps the seeds for what he was now had always been in him. Just needed the fertile soil of death to grow.

But it was easier to push those thoughts back without the weight of the pit behind them. With Danny’s arms around him, a warm and reassuring weight that kept him grounded.

Because hey, apparently a lot of things flourished from death, and awful jokes were also among them. And he just couldn’t make himself look at Danny with the same jaded, resentful eyes he turned on himself.

Danny was all light and energy and hope. If even he thought that he and Jason had something in common, maybe there was something here worth saving.

So yeah, he was doing alright when they made it to the mall. Tucker met them at the doors, still wearing a mix of hand me downs from most of the Waynes.

Had Danny thought to have him grab extra clothes before flying to Gotham?

The same Danny still wearing Jason’s massive sweater, a pair of Tim’s track pants, and his dress shoes?

No fucking chance.

Tuck didn’t seem put out by it though, grinning as he waved to the pair of them. He also had the promised Fenton Phone, which turned out to be… a single earbud.

Jason frowned down at the bud in his hand, turning it between his fingers. It was chunky, hooked over the ear and had a microphone, but he did have one important question.

“How the fuck do you call someone on that? Hell, you fucking told me it could text,” He asked bluntly, looking from Danny to Tucker.

As an accessory for a regular phone? No problem. But if there were more than three fucking buttons on the thing he’d eat it. In one bite.

The other two blinked at him for a moment, their expressions oddly identical. Then Tucker laughed and shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, the old versions we only had two or three buds that worked, so you didn’t have to wonder who you were calling. There’s an app now,” he added brightly, holding out his hand for Jason’s phone.

Jason hesitated for barely a second, remembering Danny’s comment about Tucker and technology, then handed over his civilian phone.

He’d already let Danny ectoplasm the damn thing, what’s the worst that could happen. Danny glanced over as Tucker began typing, then looked back to Jason.

“Texting works best with a smart watch. Do you have like a Fitbit or something?” Danny added casually and Jason rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

No point asking what Tucker was doing; it wouldn’t involve an app store.

“Do I look like the kind of guy who owns a Fitbit?” He asked rhetorically. Fitbits were for boogie Heights gym rats, not people who worked for a living, claims of durability or not.

They might be minorly impact, sweat, and water proof, but explosion proof? Jason’d be a happy product tester for anyone but Batman offering that kinda tech.

Danny and Tucker very clearly did not agree, sharing another extremely pointed look that made Jason wanna ask if Danny had forgotten to mention telepathy, then looking at him with a pair of raised eyebrows.

“Wwwwell,” Tucker started, dragging the word out like he didn’t quite want to call Jason an idiot. Luckily, Danny had no such compunctions.

“You’re six feet tall, have shoulders like a fuckin’ moose, and thighs that could choke out a tank, yes you look like a fucking gym bro,” he said dryly enough to desiccate.

Wait. He’d been looking at Jason’s thighs?

Jason almost glanced down, shifting from foot to foot as he leaned against the wall. He’d put a lot of work into his thighs, and they did a lot of work for him, but he’d never thought about the aesthetic.

Tucker snickered and snapped him back to the moment, which was unfortunately where Danny was looking at him like he was hopelessly adorable.

Jason looked up and away instead, well aware that the heat singing the tips of his ears meant he’d be pinking up.

He was the Red Hood. Most feared anti hero in the country, not just Gotham. He abso-fucking-lutely was not adorable. He just. Couldn’t tell them that yet.

“So, no Fitbit,” Tucker said finally, still very clearly deeply amused (and yeah, Jason could see how he’d hung out with Steph all night), handing Jason’s phone back, “you can just use the phone, it’s just not as convenient.”

Which… well. Maybe before Tucker went home Jason would have to fill him in on a little secret. Get the app in his mask.

It wasn’t like any of them had hated on Hood at the gala, despite having the opportunity? He just…

Didn’t want Danny to look at him the way Bruce did. Like he was a dangerous disappointment. A loose cannon.

He wasn’t quite ready to face that yet.

He could make do with the phone if he had to. Not like he was planning on calling Frostbite while masked up, or like this’d be the last time he ever saw Tucker.

Unless Tim killed the lot of them. Not gonna write that off as a possibility until they’d all arrived.

Glancing down at his phone, Jason quickly identified the new app and snickered, stuffing said phone into a pocket.

“Oui-chat? Really?” Beat the hell out of talking about… whatever the fuck just happened. And Tucker graciously let him have it with only copious smirking.

“Yeah, well, you can tell people it’s like Snapchat. Or whatever you want, honestly. The interface is all in ghostspeak once you open the app, so humans can’t use it,” he explained magnanimously.

Jason hesitated for a moment.

“When do I learn ghostspeak?” He asked cautiously, thinking both of Danny mentioning Tucker’s liminality, and… well, Cass.

Danny, obviously following, shrugged and began heading for the doors.

“You probably won’t notice you’re seeing it? Which, by the way, was great fun before Sam or Tucker could understand it too. It feels like speaking English but with more… emphasis.”

“Danny doesn’t speak it much,” Tucker added in a stage whisper as he and Jason followed, “it’s one of his king-perks.”

Ahead, Danny groaned and scrubbed both hands down his face.

“It’s not a perk if it fucking sucks, Tucker. Where are Cass and Steph again?” He asked firmly, clearly hoping to avoid the next question.

Jason would die again rather than miss the next question.

“What’s the perk?”

“Ghosts have to obey any command he gives them, or it physically hurts them. And it’s not always intentional, so he’s gotta actually think before he speaks,” Tucker added slyly, with the world’s most innocent smile on his face.

“If only it fucking worked on Cujo,” Danny groaned again, picking a direction at random and heading deeper into the mall. They could make the food court and desired milkshakes in a couple turns, so Jason didn’t correct him.

He remembered Cujo’s file too. Ghost dog. Damian would flip his lid when he found out.

**

Tim definitely wasn’t mad by the time he reached the mall.

Nope.

He was fine. Hardly his first all nighter, and if he’d been beating his head off the bullshit cyber walls surrounding Amity Park all night while Steph just hung out with the answer at her place, that was fine too.

He’d get to see Tucker now. See if he could borrow the PDA, or if Tuck had any tips on how to get anything through whatever the hell was isolating the town.

Hell, if he had any idea what was doing it, more the better.

It was better this way, really. Tim’d had all night to calm down, to think, to process the sudden and horrifying revelations about Tucker’s home town.

He wasn’t going to go and freak out on the guy in the middle of the mall. He could just go, and hang out, and chat about tech like they had at the gala. The subject would come up eventually.

Tucker would still have his Amity Park social media. Tim hadn’t found a new one.

And of course, civilian Tim Drake couldn’t ask about the secret Oracle file. Totally couldn’t. But, maybe, if they could get around to talking about hacking again and mentioned servers…

No, this was definitely for the best, and by the time he was actually walking through the mall he wasn’t even mad at Duke anymore.

Not like Tucker was going to get to see that video, it’d be fine.

He was… kinda surprised to see Damian already at the table with the others though. Tim seemed to be the last to arrive, barring Dick.

Kid even had a milkshake already, being slurped moodily while Steph and Tucker regaled the table with some of their adventures. Tim hadn’t notice him respond to the group chat.

He opted for the table instead of getting his own drink, since he could see Duke still in line. An actual solvable mini mystery would set him up nicely for a gentle interrogation.

Tucker’s attention snapped to him even as he walked up, and Tim definitely wasn’t smugly satisfied that he promptly ditched the story and his chair to run to greet him.

“Hey, dude, are you okay? They said you had to leave the gala early for a medical thing, should you be out?” Tucker asked, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

Like Tim might break at any second. Tim gave him a warm smile back, any annoyance tempered by the knowledge that Tucker… Tucker had probably seen some shit.

The kind of medical problems nobody could walk off. The kind where people did actually break if you touched them wrong.

Maybe his disappearing act hadn’t been a great idea. He felt kinda bad for worrying the guy.

“No, I’m fine now. Just accidentally banged off a table and hit an old surgery scar, Dick wanted me to get checked and make sure it didn’t mess up anything deeper. I’m good though,” he added with his best reassuring smile.

Tucker shadowed him back to the table, still flapping worse than Dick when Tim actually took a hit. The others gave him a much more restrained greeting, Sam and Danny definitely amused by Tucker’s antics.

With the pleasantries over, Tim turned to Damian.

“I didn’t realise you were coming, I didn’t think Duke had time to grab anyone on his way down.” Because Tim was chasing him like a bat hunting down blackmail footage.

But no one needed to know that.

Damian rolled his eyes and gave Tim a disdainful look.

“Please, Drake. I did not come with Thomas, Brown and Cain asked if I wanted to come on their way out with Foley.” And someone had to try and get actual answers, said the subtext, but for once Tim ignored it.

He had to, his brain just blanked.

“On their way out?” He asked weakly. Steph was watching him with a slow dawning glee that he just was not ready to handle on zero sleep.

Maybe he shoulda grabbed a coffee.

Damian gave him an utterly scathing look now, taking a hearty slurp of his milkshake.

“That is what I said.”

“I thought you went to Steph’s?” Tim asked in Tucker’s general direction. There was a low ringing in his ears, the world slowly distorting.

Tucker’s confused face was the only focal point left.

“What? No, Cass took us both back to the manor?” Tucker sounded even more confused, now looking at the rest of the table.

Tim let his head fall forward to thunk into the table with a heavy crack.

Upstairs.

They. Had been. Upstairs. The whole time.

In the same fucking building. Probably still awake when he’d gotten in.

He could have just gone and FUCKING ASKED.

Tim really, really, really wanted to scream again.

Tucker had gone back into a panic, hovering around his shoulders and asking if he was okay while the rest of the bats laughed at him.

The table creaked as someone leaned over it, probably Steph as she called gleefully into his ear,

“Oh, he’s just mad he didn’t think to come join us. I bet he’d have loved trying to break that unhackable server you set up for the Oracle, right Tim? Cass and I didn’t have any luck.”

Rolling his head to the side, he cracked an eye open to glare at her. Steph grinned back, entirely unrepentant and eager to watch her words sink in.

Unhackable server.

That he’d set up for Oracle.

That had closed after one use of the link, so Tim didn’t even get a peek at it.

That unhackable server. The one Tim had been planning to ever so gently tease the information to.

He’d just been letting the girls fucking play with it. Upstairs. Within a hundred feet of where Tim had sat, in the Batcave, fuming over both the server and the mysteries of Amity Park.

Tim was going to fucking kill someone.

**

Jason relaxed back in his seat at the food court, watching Tucker flutter around Tim’s shoulders with a broad grin as he sipped his milkshake.

Yeah, that realisation had been absolutely everything he’d hoped for. Poor Timmy was gonna have to learn one of these days to look past the end of his own nose when he had a case.

Not that any of the bats weren’t victims to hyperfocus, but that was exactly the point. The rest of them would remember to eat, and occasionally even sleep.

Timber would probably die hunched over his laptop before he hit thirty if they couldn’t teach him to at least remember he had a body.

He was kinda the only Robin who hadn’t already died, now that Jason thought about it. Maybe he was due.

Fuck Tim would be an annoying ghost though.

Beside him, Danny caught Jason’s eye and grinned as well, the two of them sharing a quiet moment under the rowdiness of the rest of the table.

Duke, his timing pristine, had arrived back just in time for Steph’s announcement and swung down to sit with a delighted cackle. He joined Cass in gently prodding the downed Timbit while Steph cheerfully explained things to their Amity Parkers.

Not that Sam looked in the least concerned, but she did look curious. Tucker was still flapping around like a headless chicken.

“Tim’s just not had his coffee, he hates hearing he’s missed all the fun,” Steph explained with a casual wave of her hand.

Tucker, ministering angel that he seemed determined to become, snapped to at the words.

“Coffee? I can run and get you some Tim, what kind do you like?”

“He drinks coffee like Danny,” Jason called across the table before anyone else could try and articulate the hell that was Tim’s regular order.

Tucker perked up immediately and headed off, while all heads (including Tim’s) turned to look at first Jason, then Danny.

Who just shrugged.

“Normal coffee hasn’t had any effect on me since I died. What’s your excuse?” He asked Tim, and Jason stifled a snicker.

They had had a quick talk about how much to give his siblings at breakfast. Because as much as Danny figured it was inevitable, it was also just… really funny to fuck with them.

Especially since so far? Apparently they had nothing at all. That was a temptation far too great for either halfa to resist. And Jason knew just how to play it.

Drop obscure little hints and reminders, and most importantly? Pretend they both thought the others already knew everything.

Luckily Danny clearly agreed.

Tim opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then sighed and let his head drop back to the table.

“I hate the way coffee tastes,” he grumbled into the plastic tabletop.

“And he needs it strong enough to kill an elephant,” Duke agreed cheerfully, ruffling Tim’s hair and taking a big sip of his milkshake.

Tim rolled his head up enough to glare at Duke, then sighed and settled back in his seat, glancing around for Tucker.

“So, what happened at the gala last night? I missed the show,” he added, with a mostly convincing little pout.

If Jason hadn’t known damn well that Tim was off obsessing and driving himself up the wall the whole time, he’d have believed Tim had missed out because of circumstances beyond his control. Which, to be fair, his obsessive tendencies might be.

Not that he’d get that checked out or anything. But Jason had no room to talk.

Luckily the ladies had all been present, and were happy to regale him with the full details of Danny and Jason’s little closet scene, and Sam’s ensuing explosion.

The woman herself sat mostly silent and smug, content to let Cass, Steph, and occasionally Danny sing her praises. Duke couldn’t exactly chime in in mixed company, but he ate it all up with glee.

Their leaving had been all the catalyst for disaster he’d hoped it would be. Cass even had some video that she pulled up for them to enjoy together.

Which then led into what had happened for the rest of the gala.

Honestly Jason was almost sad he’d missed it. The video montages were incredible, and even Tim managed to crack a smile.

Tucker had returned before they finished the story, massive coffee in hand that Tim took a cautious sip of, before immediately downing half. So yeah, Jason called that right.

As if the world needed two syrup-and-espresso fuelled maniacs.

Tuck was still hovering a bit around Tim, but settled now that Tim had recovered enough to give him another smile and ask for stories.

Honestly, crowding the full group of nine of them around a single phone screen at a time should have been uncomfortable; just getting the bats together would have been a mere week ago.

But it felt so natural to come and stand behind Danny, tucked right into Duke and Cass, Tucker and Tim at his other side, all peering down at Steph’s phone. Even Damian, firmly on an end, stayed close enough that he could watch.

Little shit had probably stayed in Robin last night. He had an even harder time letting himself have fun than Tim did.

They stayed in the food court for a couple of hours, just catching each other up and sharing stories. No one actually asked what Danny and Jason had done once they’d disappeared.

Danny filled them in anyway, explaining animatedly how he’d kicked Jason’s ass at Mariokart… which Jason wouldn’t deny specifically so none of the others were prepared for Danny’s brand of fucking cheating when the time came.

He just grinned and casually mentioned that that was around when he’d checked the group chat. Dropped Sam’s theory on Bruce.

The fucking temptation to ask her about that directly was just omnipresent, and if Jason trusted any of them to keep a straight face he’d have done it the second the goth arrived.

As it was, Steph was already breaking into muffled giggles whenever she looked Sam’s way after that reminder, and Duke had his lips pressed together like he didn’t trust his face.

None of them doubted she’d have a full Batman-is-a-sugar-baby speech ready, delivered to Bruce Wayne’s assorted wards or not. Samantha Manson was not a woman to shy from anything.

Jason was just holding back til Dick arrived to set her off. None of them deserved to escape unscathed.

It was… nice.

Jason hadn’t been a teen in years physically, and a lot longer emotionally. This was what he’d always wanted but never quite had.

A carefree day at the mall, with all of his younger siblings for probably the first time ever, and his new friends too. Though Sam and Tucker were hardly there as just his or Danny’s friends by that point.

Tucker had gotten himself firmly adopted by Team Batgirl, and only Babs herself hadn’t yet ratified the decision. Not that that’d take long though, since as far as Jason knew, Oracle still hadn’t broken Tucker’s server.

Tim was doing a damn good job of not biting Tucker’s hand off for a chance at it too, though that might have been because Tuck had immediately promised to give Tim a link that afternoon.

Still, Jason was a little impressed; Tim had gone from exhausted grump to bright eyed and grinning, in just one massive-and-possibly-lethal-to-humans coffee.

Only a bat would spot the tension still creasing the corners of his eyes. The weight of questions he couldn’t ask in public on his shoulders if not his face.

Even Damian was taking his lead from Tim today though; keeping it light, just hanging out and getting to know the Amity Parkers. It’d give them a better shot at getting to a more private location to ask questions later.

Some shit needed a little more security than the mall offered.

Sam was probably the most reserved, but far from the quietest. She was more than happy to cut into any story, razzing Danny and Tucker with a proficiency that was almost sisterly.

If she was jealous Tuck got to spend the previous night hanging out with the girls, it didn’t show.

Even Duke fit right in, introducing himself with ease and enjoying being “caught up” to the story from start to finish.

It was just… so normal. Milkshakes became a late lunch, became wandering through the mall, became a trip to the park as they waited for Dick.

Even Damian reluctantly bonded with Sam over their shared vegetarianism and activism as they passed a hotdog stand that made Tucker drool. Their combined assault did nothing to sway the guy either, so Jason marked him down as a stomach of steel.

He could feel the others keeping an eye on him, the glances that lasted a little too long if he was quiet. Checking for danger. Checking in.

It should have riled the pit, it always did when he caught them before even if he could shove it back down, but today? There was nothing to shove.

He was still worried about Cass, but if Danny didn’t have a firm answer by the end of the day they’d need to bring her with them to Frostbite anyway, so he was already doing all he could.

She didn’t look half dead. But then, nor did Jason or Danny, right up until Danny did.

Honestly, right now even the worry felt distant and low, washed away under a wave of… well, it couldn’t be nostalgia for something he’d never had, right?

But it felt like finally having a wish come true. Every time he’d spied on the bats and seen them just relax, just be a family, and ached that it couldn’t be his. Every spiteful, lonely little thought that used to feed the pit.

There was nothing for them to cling to right now. Here he was, in the middle, laughing at their jokes and telling his own. It was so much better than he’d have ever dreamed.

A couple glances to let him know they were still looking out for him couldn’t hold a candle to that.

**

Vlad had to admit he was somewhat surprised to receive a message from Brucie Wayne just the day after the gala. He hadn’t even had time to arrange his little apologies for the boys.

And yet, here the man was, asking to meet him for a private lunch in what was practically an open invitation to overshadow him. Why, it was the perfect scenario he’d thought he’d have to make himself.

And yet.

For the first time in a long time, Vlad found himself unsure as he waited for the man to arrive.

Young Jason definitely had the feel of a halfa to him, though not as strong as Daniel. Jason felt more… incomplete, and yet painfully familiar to Vlad.

Almost as if the boy wasn’t finished forming, just as Vlad hadn’t over those long years of his change.

Now, an overshadowed Brucie could potentially be useful in introducing Vlad into Jason’s life a little more, had Vlad still believed the boy saw him as a guide and father.

That little display at the gala had thrown more than just Brucie’s usefulness into question though. While Jason certainly didn’t seem to care for Brucie’s authority (and who would?), he clearly cared for the man.

If Vlad overshadowed him, that would put them off to the same unfortunate start he’d had with Daniel.

Six years wasn’t quite so much to a middle aged man as it was to a teenager, but Vlad could admit that he’d been a very young ghost when he met Daniel. He’d been… impulsive.

And gripped tight in the throes of his Obsession.

Now, older, more mature, (and with a better understanding of what his Obsession actually required) Vlad had to question his original methods.

He had never wanted Madeline as some kind of puppet. The thing he loved about her was the very spirit that made her so resistant to him; taking it away would kill the only part of her that he truly desired.

And young Daniel…

The boy who had been the only other like him in centuries, if records were to be believed. Madeline’s son, and perhaps that had also clouded his judgement.

Oh, Daniel was brash, impulsive, sloppy, ignorant, and highly resistant to even the gentlest advice. He was also brave, loyal, kind, and capable of a self sacrifice Vlad still just couldn’t understand.

Daniel would not take him overshadowing Brucie Wayne lightly. Had likely come to the gala expressly to make that clear.

And if Daniel and Jason were serious about this relationship of theirs… that meant that Brucie would eventually be Vlad’s brother in law.

Just Vlad’s luck that the universe would saddle him with yet another hulking himbo rather than an intellectual equal, but at least Brucie had an appreciation for the finer things in life.

More in his head than ham and fudge anyway.

Still, he could tolerate it. Daniel needed some supportive adults in his life, and Vlad could acknowledge he had work to do before that could be himself.

Brucie should at least be an amicable father in law, and another point of contact to help Vlad persuade Daniel that he really had changed. Really had listened to the boy’s pointless ranting about doing the “right” thing.

Vlad still couldn’t see the point. No matter how unethical his own business dealings were, there was no ethical way to become a millionaire, let alone billionaire. While Vlad himself wasn’t exactly redistributing the wealth, that didn’t mean Daniel couldn’t once Vlad acquired it.

Too bad Brucie already had a neat handful of heirs to his business. Having Jason take it over would have neatly solved Vlad’d dilemma, but ah well.

If nothing else, he was resolved to try nothing untowards on the man today. Whatever it was Brucie wished to discuss, Vlad could at least be amiable, helpful, and see what the man thought of their boys together.

After all, the very last thing Daniel needed was a father figure who treated him poorly. The poor boy was already far too used to that.

**

It was almost funny how easy it was to convince their Amity Parkers to come to dinner at Wayne manor. Cass hadn’t expected it to be hard of course; she just got the feeling some of her brothers were a little surprised with how easily Steph floated the idea.

Silly boys.

Steph delighted in being the one who could just drop whatever she felt like into the conversation. It saved a lot of time that their more circumspect members would spend overthinking.

Cass knew she had a bad habit of overthinking everything, but Steph was helping her with it. It was easier when she didn’t have to speak aloud.

Making noise just didn’t come naturally to Cass the way it did the others. Her job had always been to be rarely seen, never heard; just a shadow.

It was a little too easy to fall into old habits around her louder siblings.

Sam also seemed to have noticed, because if Cass fell to the back of the group while wandering, sometimes the goth girl was just beside her. Smiling, signing their own little conversation while the others talked.

Sam knew curses in ASL that Cass had never come across, and some of them had to be spelled out. Cass made sure to remember those though. When Alfred had taught her to sign, he’d somehow neglected most of the profanity.

She had the sneaking suspicion he definitely knew all the signs, but it was hard enough to get the prim and proper butler to even whisper “fuck”.

Sam, Sam swore in all her languages as easily as she breathed. It might be a young adult thing.

Not that any of Cass’s brothers seemed to have grown out of it.

By the time Dick joined them, they’d wandered all the way to one of the downtown parks. Gotham didn’t have many open spaces that were what you’d call safe, but with Ivy both having been present, and now out of town?

Green space was about as good as it got, so long as you made sure you could always see your feet. The faint dusting of snow was mostly undisturbed once they left the streets for narrower walkways; not everyone knew Ivy was gone.

It was a definite improvement over the grey and brown slush along the sidewalks and roads, and it hadn’t taken long for Duke to cheerfully declare a snowball fight.

And by “declare” she meant “grab a handful of snow and throw it at Jason’s head”. It didn’t quite pack hard enough to do more than explode on impact, sending puffy snow everywhere.

For a moment Cass had almost worried, but Duke never did. He was packing his second snowball, selecting Tim as his next target, and sure enough?

Jason had actually laughed, dived knee first into a drift and began packing his own snowballs. The batfam scattered, no one willing to trust an alliance with their siblings.

In an odd contrast, the Amity Parkers moved into an immediate alliance, packing snowballs and selecting a tree. They must do a lot more teamwork in the field.

Maybe they could help train some of Cass’s older brothers in the finer points of said teamwork. Cass had been prepared to do her usual ninja bit, disappearing into shadows only to strike from unexpected angles.

And then Sam had grabbed her wrist, grinning and tugging her behind their tree.

“Help me build a fort,” the goth girl declared, a glee that would have shocked anyone fooled by her dark exterior all over her face.

A stationary position was more dangerous; it left them vulnerable to attack and siege, with few recourses if they were overwhelmed. A large group was obvious; none of the other bats would miss them for long.

Cass hadn’t even hesitated. She dived straight into the snow behind Sam, helping her scoop snow into walls and fortifications. Tucker and Danny kept up a steady stream of snowball production until they had a stack nearly waist high.

Cass could still pick out each of her siblings, mostly red cheeked and all bearing a dusting of snow. They’d immediately gone for each other, old rivalries taking precedence over quiet newcomers.

That was clearly a mistake.

Ten minutes had given them time to build a stock of weaponry and mount a defence, something none of the bats had bothered with. They weren’t exactly stationary defenders.

Their walls complete, Cass was happy to start pelting her siblings whenever they came into view, along with her new comrades.

Sam’s aim was particularly good. Unsurprisingly to Cass, who had had her suspicions about the thermos toss last night. This tracked with what she’d seen, and what Tucker had told her about Sam.

And honestly, given what Harley was likely going to do to Bruce, a knock with a thermos was only the beginning of his troubles.

Good.

People might not expect Cass to be particularly familiar with the damage words could do, but that was because they forgot that the victim didn’t need to speak back.

Bruce hadn’t meant any harm, but that had nothing to do with how much harm he’d done. And Sam hadn’t meant any serious harm by clocking him with a thermos, so that was none of Cass’s concern.

It hadn’t taken long for the rest of her siblings to notice the fort and try to adjust their strategies. Steph immediately tried to rope Jason, Duke, and Tim into her own team, but it was much too late.

There was nowhere within range for them to build their own fort without taking constant fire from Fort Amity. They had no choice but to try for sneak attacks… on Cassandra Cain.

Cass was deeply, deeply satisfied with how dismayed they all were when they realised.

Duke defected immediately, pleading for sanctuary. Tim threw himself on Tucker’s mercy. Steph decried them both as cowards, then tried for wlw solidarity.

Jason disappeared somewhere into the snow, which was still unfair for a 6’ mountain of man to be able to do.

Damian had tried to stay aloof from the vicious snow duel, proclaiming himself utterly disgusted by the very concept, right up until Steph dumped a handful of snow down the back of his coat.

The younger boy’s cries of his final vengeance had been what brought Dick to them.

And, honestly, it was Dick’s own fault that he’d driven his car right into the parking lot, flashed his lights, and asked what was going on in his cop voice. What had he expected to happen?

All participants in the snowball fight bar Damian had immediately turned on him, peppering both car and open window with snow. Even Steph managed a few flailed handfuls, Damian still sat firmly on her back and forcing her face down into a drift.

Dick had to duck down behind the door of his car, laughing as he was buried.

Which was, obviously, when Jason reappeared, rising from the snow like some kind of yeti and yanking the door open, hauling Dick out to toss him into a snow drift.

Duke broke cover, cackling in delight and charging.

“Get the cop!” He called, and Dick howled in laughter.

Cass hesitated for barely a moment, and that was long enough for Sam to decide. She hopped their barricade and charged, leaving the other three behind.

Tucker, Danny, and Cass exchanged looks, shrugs, and followed. They’d probably be heading right to Wayne manor for dinner anyway. They could have a last hurrah.

**

Far away in a beautiful leafy canopy bed, a phone buzzed. A slender, unnaturally pale hand flailed through the blankets, patting around to find the phone and almost knocking it further away.

The buzzing escalated to a beep, joined by a loud groan as a sleepy blonde, blue and pink head rose from the pillows to glower at the screen.

Saw a new message, missed from the night before.

Humming to herself, Harley Quinn flicked in her passcode to view the message. Soft heart shaped lips pursed in annoyance and she sighed, hauling herself roughly from the bed and patting the other lump in the sheets.

“Sorry, Pammy-petal, I gotta run. Our little kitty-kat’s having some big bad bat trouble,” she called in a sing song voice, pulling a pair of shorts from the floor to tug on.

Another sleepy groan came from the bed, a mussy head of red hair rising to frown tiredly at her.

“Do you need backup?” She asked, her voice low and rough with sleep.

Harley grinned, reaching back into the mess on the floor and shaking clothes from the handle of one of her favourite toys.

“Nah, babycakes, I’ve got a bat of my own,” she declared smugly, swinging the baseball bat over her shoulder and casting a last glance around the room. “Are you gonna be good here if I meet you back in Gotham?”

Pamela Isley, more notoriously known as Poison Ivy sat up slowly, stretching long arms up behind her head and twisting until her back cracked. Leaves rustled through the room, every plant turning slightly to orient themselves to her like she was the sun.

She was certainly the light of Harley’s life.

“I’ll be fine, Harls. I can wrap things up here in my own time and make my way back,” Ivy said with a slow, satisfied smile, glancing out of the window.

You’d never know that up until last week, the lush and blooming forest had been a series of office buildings. In another week, every last trace of concrete would be ground to sand.

Ivy had worked hard on her new formulas, and so far? The first test looked good. Really good.

Harley couldn’t wait to share her glory with the world. Rrrriiiiiight after she went and had another talk with her favourite rich boy about boundaries.

Bouncing back to the bed she threw herself back onto the mattress, pressing kisses all over Ivy’s face. And yeah, it sent Ivy tumbling backwards, laughing as her arms draped around Harley’s shoulders, but that was kinda the point.

Who knew when she’d have the chance to kiss those petal-soft lips again? Why, it might be a whole month! No, she had to get every last second of Pammy that she could.

She’d have plenty of time to get to the airport before the next flight for Gotham left. It wasn’t like she had much to pack.

—————————

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Next chapter:

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dp x dc #dead on main #dead on main ship #danny fenton x jason todd #dead and loving it chapter 9 probably #counting is hard #the mall episode #the one where we revel in tim’s self imposed suffering

[destinationtoast]

hbd to my favorite fandom where "Canon Compliant" is the third most common tag and 7% of the works explicitly feature clock symbolism

#goncharov #hard to say whether it's belated #or early #depending which exact events you're counting from #but given all the time symbolism #i suppose that's only appropriate #op #50 #100 #500 #1K

[kingzombear]

ok which character is really into reading? i ask not for any good reason but so i can ship them with zooble SPECIFICALLY to call the ship "zoobooks"

Gangle writes AND reads gay slashfic, don't tell Caine

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the fuck is their ship name called #zoobangle #? #zooble x gangle #gangle x zooble #tadc zooble #tadc gangle #tadc fanart #bear king draws #bear king speaks #zoobz is nonbinary does it still count as yuri chat 🤔 #oh my god the ship name is fucking #google #abstragedy #goes hard as fuck tho

[harmonysanreads]

#SUFFERING THROUGH SCHOOL WAS WORTH IT #I'm not even a die-hard scara simp BUT I WAS COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS #man. #this gremlin knows his power #i mean look at that grin #harmonysan.txt #genshin impact #scaramouche #wanderer

[hingefreelester]

It came to me in a vision.

#babys first phanart!! #if the can we pretend airplanes meme dragons dont count #i spent the whole day on this while listening to the stereo shows #watercolors are hard when you want dark colors #phanart #fanart #dan and phil #dan and phil crafts #dnp #phan #daniel howell #phil lester #amazingphil #danisnotonfire #hingefreelester #hingefreeart

[buttercupshands]

can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big

and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today

#sketch #my art #bnha #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura #all for one #midoriya izuku #bnha manga spoilers #only after I finished basically polishing this sketch did I notice how it's basically dark and light mode #also the first one is basically a redraw of illustration from vol 11 #I know that translation of Tenko's words is different in official but eh #fanart #I've kind of recovered from recent chapters #and I was analysing those chapters all morning #I'm still thinking but otherwise the chapters are so good #also did you notice that AFO actually talked about how his other him didn't use that 'last thing' yet and that was in ch 410 #and in ch 419 he did so it's real and it's still sad #but still AFO was never hiding it enough #from Tomura maybe but we as readers actually saw his plans play out #in any case I'm still just sitting with those two Izuku and Tenko interaction chapters #I waited long enough #and if you don't count AFO's return Izuku DID save Tenko and it's so interesting #since he now has to save his OTHER origin that was in ch 237 taught to kill whatever he wants #Tenko and Tomura both had 'origins' chapters and for now we only worked with 235 and 236 #and even if Izuku helped with the start of 237 there's still AFO #in any case it was a hard week #also the second thing actually had them holding hands #and then I was like 'but at that point Izuku's hands are gone oh no' #and it was just Tenko holding air where the hand was destroyed #in any case that scene.