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wexhappyxfew · 6 days

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“Don’t leave my sight again” for Kennedy and Bucky! Only if you want! I love your writing! <3

HI SWEET ANON!!!!! thank you so so much for popping this in the askbox and for the love on my writing! it means SO MUCH!! i had a lot of fun with this one - we went in a direction i wanted to explore a bit more with the kennedy x bucky dynamic, especially their ever-present bickering about sports with their (respective) red sox and yankees, hehe. i really enjoyed this prompt because i could still utilize the dynamic i wanted, but inject the prompt into the writing in a way that was more heartfelt and meaningful than anything, so, please enjoy!! :D

lips itching to grin

(a/n): kennedy x bucky girlies, we're back and better than ever and focusing on the early days again with these two, specifically in the ever-present baseball rivalry (with a side of heartfelt and slightly flirty banter that neither side may or may have not predicted.....). ps: there's a whole lot of baseball references in here along with a deep dive into the red sox and yankees baseball almanac of 1942 players, as (to preface) they discuss a yankees x red sox game from 1942, with some of their own perspectives (though we enter the conversation in the middle lol). please enjoy!!! <3333

"Alright, well, runners on first and second, game-tying run at second, bottom of the 5th," Kennedy started, as she watched Paulina offer one of the newer replacements a dance as Billie Holiday sung with those swing trumpets over their heads, "you got Joe DiMaggio coming up with two outs. Dick Newsome's already at 78 pitches."

"Easy," Bucky offers as Paulina and the replacement move out towards the center of the floor and start dancing - Kennedy likes seeing her smile, "DiMaggio hits an RBI double and makes it to second base. Then you ain't even tied up anymore. Score's 4-3."

"But," Kennedy started, glancing upwards at him with a look as she tilted her head, a smile on her cheeks, "you got Charlie Keller up next. Getting to that point in your roster where it gets a little….hairy."

"Says the one with Joe Cronin on your-"

"Focus." Kennedy said snapping in front of his face, bringing a smirk onto his lips as he looked back at her, "We're talking about the fucking Yankees right now, Bucky."

"Don't call them the fucking Yankees."

"They're the fucking Yankees to me, got it?" she said and she watched Bucky turn from his position leaned up backwards against the bar to actually facing her, "What?"

"You get really passionate about your Red Sox, huh?" he said, leaning his hand up against the side of his face and watching her, "I'd hate to mess with you-"

"You already have." she told him in a sing-song voice as she turned and took a sip of her beer and looked out to the dance floor again, "Try growing up as the only girl in a house full of brothers. You either play baseball or you are the baseball, I'm afraid." Bucky snickered at that and sipped his own drink - bourbon maybe, she could smell it on his lips from here.

"What the hell kinda baseball did the Farley brothers play?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Clearly not that great of baseball, you're all Red Sox fans."

"Says the one who willingly became a Yankees fan."

"Willingly-"

"At least I grew up in the area! It makes sense!"

"Can't knock me, Yankees' got a fan all the way from Wisconisn - can't say the same about other teams now, huh?" Bucky said leaning towards her with a grin, "Gotcha there, huh?" Kennedy watched him.

"Bill Dickey comes up and goes out swinging," Kennedy said, staring him down, "Red Ruffing's taken outta the game. Atley Donald's up on the mound. Johnny Pesky's up to bat. Donald walks him. Tony Lupien comes up - an absolute bomb outta the field. Rest of the game is a no-go. Red Sox win. 6-4."

"For someone who despises the Yankees, you sure do know a whole lot about them." Bucky said, sipping his drink again, "It's cute. You trying to impress me with that Yankees stuff."

"I just know a whole lot about games where my Red Sox win," Kennedy mouthed back, the tops of her cheeks burning, "you'd know if I was trying to impress you."

"When's that happened?"

"Never."

"Huh."

"Exactly." she said, sending him a look and he smirked again, his eyes watching her in that manner they always seemed to, "What's that look for?"

"What'd you usually play?" he asked her, that lazy grin growing on his face, "C'mon, I know you were probably in a group of kids that got together to play. What were ya? No….let me guess. First base, you're pretty tall." She stared at him and raised a brow. "No?"

"What about this," she started, standing up straight and holding out her arms, "screams first base, huh?"

"Fine. Shortstop. Speedy, quick-witted-"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't get in over your head."

"Continue…." Kennedy said with a smirk.

"Shortstop." Bucky said, "Final answer."

"Ding-ding, you're correct," she said with a smile, "usually my older brother and I fought over that position. He usually gave in."

"You were convincing enough." Bucky said, sipping his drink again.

"I was better than him." she offered back, catching that look on his face, "What, like it's hard to believe?"

"Nah, nah," Bucky said shaking his head back and forth and grinning, before avoiding her questioning entirely, "you like hitting?"

"Usually was middle of the pack, sometimes cleanup, I flip-flopped." she said with a winning smirk, "Wasn't often I got cleanup though, my older brother, he's a fucking giant, like 6 foot 5 or something - Bobby - he usually could drive in any and all runners. Sometimes he let me in the spot. It was usually some stupid fight we'd have, but he'd let me have my ways sometimes. Which was nice." Bucky grinned at her again and she couldn't tell whether that was just how he decided to look at people or if there was something else going on behind those eyes and that smile. But she just left it for the time being and took to sipping her drink again.

An upbeat Ozzie Nelson beat came over above them, which immediately sent Kennedy thinking of home again - its summer, the windows are open, her mother's got the radio playing the music she always used when cleaning the house; a mix of Artie Shaw, Billie Holiday, Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman. Sometimes even some Ray Noble. Any sort of music as such would remind her of that time in her youth, racing around the house with her brothers, this music in her ears, the kitchen smelling like lemon soap and freshly scrubbed, the linens hanging outside, the sound of her mother sweeping and shooing away her brothers or their dog, Gunny.

"My ma loves this music," Kennedy said with a smile, looking out to the dance floor as people danced and clung onto one another, as if it were the only thing they had apart from those flying coffins - human touch, more important than anything when they were here, "she played it all the time at home."

"She a big band fan?" Bucky asked her, and she looked to him with a smile and nodded. The corners of his eyes grew soft - she noticed he did that sometimes when he was really listening to you; really, really listening. When she had first noticed it, she'd been taken back at the intensity with which he would watch and listen, but he did it so subtly she had never really noticed until now.

"Always has been." Kennedy said with a nod, "I mean, with five sons and one daughter, there isn't a whole lot of space to listen to quiet jazz, or…something or other. Everyone always wanted big band being played." Bucky let out a bark of a chuckle and then got quiet again, glancing her way with that cautious look painted on his face. He knocked her shoulder lightly.

"And you?" he asked her, a slightly playful look on his face, lips itching to grin again.

"What about me?"

"What do you like?" he asked her, "What does Kennedy Farley dance around to her when no one's looking?" Kennedy couldn't help but laugh, a real genuine laugh and shake her head.

"Usually Benny Goodman or Glenn Miller."

"Like mother, like daughter." Bucky said with a smile, "What's she doing now ya think? Your ma?" Kennedy shrugged, feeling slightly homesick at the thought of her Ma, at home, with all her children off to war, or college, or school, her husband off to work, leaving her in that big house all alone. Her stomach twisted unpleasantly and she couldn't fight the sad expression off her face.

"Probably getting dinner ready - she makes a damn good beef stew. Chop the carrots, onions, celery. Let the beef sit and marinate for a while. The whole house would smell almost like Christmas Eve," Kennedy said softly, before quirking out a grin, "waiting for Dad to get home from work." She stared at Bucky who watched her back. "Your ma?"

"Much of the same probably." Bucky said, leaning up against the bar and schooling his features evenly, "Cooking up dinner, waiting for my dad to get home." Bucky smiled almost bittersweetly. "Wish she didn't have to be there alone, ya know?"

"Yeah," Kennedy said quickly, her emotions warping with her intense want to berate him yet again over baseball, but her softer side took over and she looked at him, "I don't doubt though if I went home, she'd be telling me 'Don't leave my sight again.'" Kennedy said with a small smile. "Broke her damn heart for me to come out here. Only daughter. One of the youngest." Bucky watched her, his face quiet, his expressions even and he seemed at once, intently focused purely on her.

"She didn't want me to come." Kennedy told him honestly, feeling like if she didn't get it off her chest now, she never would tell a soul, "Here. Flying B-17s, being a gunner, getting my hands on a .50 cal. She hated the idea of all of it. But I guess she let me go because she knew it was what I wanted. What I needed. For me." She looked over at Bucky and saw nothing but that gentle, fond expression on his face. She smiled slightly. He smiled right back, almost instantly.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," he said, watching as her face morphed from sadness to mild surprise, to which he laughed at, "yeah, I swear to ya, Farley. I really am. Hey, who was it that saw you shooting that .50 cal back in training and hand-picked you for my gunners, alright?" She was quiet. "That was me."

"And then of course Birdie took you under her wing and the rest is history, but I didn't forget that at some point in time, you were one of my waist gunners," he said, knocking her shoulder lightly again, "a good one at that, you know that?" Just hearing Birdie's name made her heart squeeze.

"It's really nothing special-"

"You shot Expert, Farley," he said, holding her gaze with a firm look, "that sends eyes wandering, I promise ya."

Oh.

She watched him for a moment before her fingers were getting twitchy and she needed something for them and to get herself to look away from that look in his eyes.

"Cigarette?" she asked him, pulling from his gaze to dig her hand into her pockets and produce the slightly crumpled cigarette packet she always had on hand. He watched her before slowly nodding.

"Sure." he said, as she innately popped open the top and produced two cigarettes, sliding one onto her lip and the other into his own hands, "Thanks."

"The least I could do for a compliment like that." she said, almost bashfully, as he placed it on his lip with a chuckle.

"First time anyone's ever told you that?"

"People don't tell me a whole lot of things like that ever so," Kennedy started, before attempting to smile, "yeah, first time for everything" Bucky watched her curiously as he produced a lighter and leaned forward to light up her cigarette before doing his own.

"Really?" he asked her, almost surprised - why would he need to act surprised, why did he even bother to care? She nodded. Bucky watched her for a moment, fingertips drumming against his cigarette as he stared at her; his gaze not one she was entirely even turning away from or wanting to.

"Cleanup." She stared at him, raising a brow.

"Tell Bobby Farley that you shoulda been in cleanup in the lineup." Bucky said, turning towards the bar again and calling for another drink, "Shortstops are usually closer to the top of the lineup anyway, right?" Kennedy watched him, her heart pounding.

"Bucky-"

"I woulda put you in that clean-up spot any day of the week, believe me." he said, smiling at her, with a grin, before turning to the bar and getting his drink. And she recited deep from within her mind, something Bobby Farley had taught her well and good in their screaming matches - 4th slot in the lineup, cleanup spot, usually one of the more or most important players in the lineup; they're powerful, drive in runs and more than anything are one thing - consistent.

#OKAYYYYY #BUT THIS WAS SO FUN #i had been wanting to do this piece for a WHILE #like a straight up talking baseball piece #AND HERE IT IS!!!!#always the not-so-subtle flirting going on with this too like #yall #hellooooo #we see you and hear you loud and clear #the cleanup/shortstop compliment too?#yeah in baseball terms that's a pretty top tier compliment - people must trust u a whole lot #LIKE OK BUCKY I SEE U #(communicating in the sports language she thrives in best <3333 yelling about sports teams ahhhh true love)#kennedy u will always be iconic lets be fr #kennedy x bucky #kennedy farley #bucky egan #bucky egan x oc #john egan x oc #also hi: birdie faulkner mention !!!!!#and YES kennedy *was* a waist gunner for bucky a long while ago #I JUST THEM!!! THEM (distant screams) brb dont mind me fangirling over them in my head (remembers i must continue to write them to continue #to fangirl HEHE)#THANK YOU ALLLLL!!!! <3333

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britcision · 1 year

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Today’s is a little shorter but I think you’ll all forgive me as we dive into… The Inevitable Rogue Attack 😈

It fucking kills me how many people are almost sympathising with Vlad but want Bruce to catch fire, y’all are giving me life and don’t worry, Bruce will not be getting away with his crimes

First:

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The Inevitable Rogue Attack

His kids were rioting. There were giggles, muffled screams, Steph was drumming her hands on the table hard enough to shake the place settings.

And Jason… Jason.

Bruce wasn’t quite sure what to do as Jason made his way back down to his seat, passing behind all three Amity Parkers to get there.

He’d hoped… well. He hoped Jason had understood his meaning. He hadn’t expected the boy to blanche like that, and he’d worried for a second that he’d misjudged.

But no, the smile Jason gave him on the stage was real. Bruce knew every detail of his son’s face, had worked doubly hard to be able to read those expressions when Jason had come back unfamiliar and grown.

There was something he’d missed. Obviously.

But he didn’t know what. Didn’t know what he had expected Jason to do, now that it came down to it. Bruce hadn’t said what he did thinking about Jason’s response.

He didn’t need him to respond at all, he just… he wanted Jason to know he cared. To be sure that Bruce loved him. That Bruce wanted him back.

That he would never be sorry enough for how his mistakes had cost Jason everything. Surely promising that before so many witnesses, so many people would show he meant it?

They’d need to talk. They would always need to talk. And perhaps Jason would talk to Alfred too, and Bruce could ask what he’d done wrong.

He hadn’t expected Jason to fall sobbing into his arms. But the way he’d paled, Bruce’s stomach had dropped like a stone.

Was it really such a surprise to hear him say sorry? Such a shock? Had he failed that much?

Making his way back to his own table, he let his gaze drift from Jason and land on the Manson girl. He was a little surprised to find that she was staring straight back at him, despite the chaos at her table.

Shouldn’t she be focused on Jason? He had just rather publicly expressed his affections, even if he’d been circumspect.

Bruce would have thought she was watching him for his response to that, except that he’d seen Damian look at dogfight ring owners with a warmer expression.

Even as their eyes met, he saw her hand scrabbling side ways, snatching at cutlery and then Danny grabbed it and wrestled it back to the table.

She’d grabbed a knife. He’d have been satisfied in his assessments of her being correct, but who the fuck was Jason hanging out with?

He made it back to his seat, looked over, and she was still watching him. Narrow purple eyes tracking him like she was waiting to pounce.

He’d been stared at at every gala since he was a child.

He’d stared down villains planning to cube him with lasers, while tied to their tables.

Samantha Manson was activating his bat senses. No wonder Jason liked her so much.

Perhaps the Mansons hadn’t been exaggerating the situation… but that still left the question of Danny. The “very important” relationship that Jason claimed was helping the pit.

Danny was supposedly here as Sam’s date too. Could it be an open relationship? Or had Sam and Jason not yet realised he was involved with them both?

Selina’s intel suggested the former, but Bruce would have to observe them more closely to determine which it was. And then there was Tucker Foley…

Tucker had been spending more time with Tim than the other three. Bruce would be relying on him for a debrief later, and his impressions of Masters.

The rest of his children had clearly met Danny as well, and he wished he could have taken at least one of them aside for a report before dinner.

As it was, he likely wouldn’t be able to talk to them until they got home. Perhaps Damian might be persuaded to take a brief break from the rest of the room…

Though his youngest did hate to miss the action. Especially if he perceived something important to be going on, and from the set of his shoulders, he did.

His tension did absolutely nothing to soothe Bruce’s own worries. Nor did reminding himself that Damian may be upset by almost anything.

Damian may still struggle socially, but he was perceptive and excellent at threat assessing. If he was tense, there was a reason.

He was so focused on his childrens’ table that he didn’t even notice Selina on her phone beside him.

Jason slipped back into his seat, feeling much better than he had leaving it. Who knew that getting a little fuckery in would settle him so much?

Well, anyone who’d met him. But other than that.

Dick leaned in before his ass hit the chair, both arms outstretched as if to cradle Jason in them.

“You fucking madlad,” he gasped, eyes bright with laughter and Jason rolled his eyes, grinning even as he slapped Dick’s hands away.

“What, it’s not like you’ve not done worse,” he said off handedly, settling himself in.

Steph was still drumming on the table, finishing up an epic solo by snatching up her knife and tinging it off her glass.

“And that’s the new high to beat on Bruce’s blood pressure chart, ladies and gentlemen, likely possible only through grand larceny!” She declared emphatically, tossing her knife back down.

And apparently inspiring Sam, whose eyes narrowed, still tracking Bruce as she grabbed at the table beside her. Danny, already on guard, leaned away a little.

“Sam, what are you… no Sam no!” He snatched at her arm just as she grabbed his steak knife, pulling it back to the table.

Steph’s brows rose, Dick leaned back a little, and Jason couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“You can’t stab a man at a gala, Damian’s already tried,” Tim put in with a slightly nervous chuckle.

They all seemed to think she’d go for it. Jason, only knowing her slightly longer, was completely sure she’d go for it.

He let his hand fall to cover hers and Danny’s too, squeezing softly. He kinda appreciated having a friend who’d kill for him.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but if Bruce dies tonight Tim inherits a lot more paperwork and he already doesn’t sleep,” he said casually, and Sam’s gaze snapped back to him.

Her eyes narrowed further for a moment and then she huffed, dropping the knife and sinking back in her seat. And still glaring at Bruce over at his table.

“It doesn’t have to be a lethal stabbing,” she pointed out coolly, glaring at her own utensils. Vegetarian options did not usually require steak knives.

A happy coincidence that it kept the sharp knives away from Damian too, really. He had switched from glaring at Danny to glaring at Sam assessingly.

Whatever conclusions he drew, they didn’t come before the waiters arrived, hot food still under cloches.

The table fell quiet for a moment as plates were handed out, and then food inspected. The dining room filled with the clink of cutlery and muted conversation.

Jason’s little stunt was definitely still causing ripples, and he felt a definite self satisfaction grow through him. Fuck Bruce and his surprises.

It was Tucker who brought the conversation back, clearing his throat while the others focused on food.

“So, Sam… on a scale from 0 to public proposals, where does Jason’s little kiss stand?” He asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows from his spot a whole Danny away.

Sam’s glare indicated that might not be far enough. Then she snickered and returned to her plate.

“Zero. We planned to fuck with their heads and we both know what it means, right Jason?” She asked, cocking a brow at the taller man.

Jason shrugged cheerfully, enjoying the way every siblings’ eyes narrowed at her lack of specificity. They weren’t off the fuckery list yet, knowing about Val or not.

“Exactly. Glad you agree though, I wasn’t sure if I should apologise. We didn’t exactly talk about that,” he added when she made a small questioning noise.

Sam shrugged, waving her decidedly blunt knife with mild disdain.

“You’re good. We’re on the same page, I don’t give a shit what anyone here thinks, and it’s gonna make the big explosion all the better.” She sounded distinctly satisfied with this turn of events, so Tucker raised his hands, surrendering.

Dick chuckled softly, shaking his head and digging into his food.

“Not to defend Bruce, but I don’t think he’s emotionally intelligent enough to try and corner Jason into a response,” he pointed out cheerfully and Jason snorted a laugh.

Which became a full laugh when Sam didn’t even glance over.

“Cop opinion, nobody asked.”

Dick pouted and Steph laughed at him, leaning in to continue either the conversation or the bullying. Jason wasn’t quite sure which, because Cass captured his attention with a gentle hand on his arm.

Glancing her way, she gave him a soft smile and signed,

‘Are you okay?’

And yeah. Without the pit’s biting green haze, Jason was a massive fucking sap, apparently. Or Bruce had shaken him more than he thought.

He managed a smile that wasn’t too shaky, signing quickly back.

‘I’m good.’ Not that he need bother, since Cass looked entirely unconvinced.

She didn’t call him on it though, slipping her hand into his and squeezing gently. And that was one of his favourite things about Cass.

Like most of the bats, she never really talked about shit, but in her case? It was often because she didn’t need to. She understood without needing him to find the right words.

Maybe that was why the whole ghost-emotional-language thing wasn’t freaking him out the way it probably should.

Maybe Cass was also part ghost. She’d died before.

And that was something he’d have to ask Danny about. He’d mentioned a “ghost sense” that he and Vlad could use to find each other.

Jason’s almost certainly wasn’t fully developed, just like his core, because to hear Danny tell it he could detect any ghost within a city block. Sometimes further.

Jason’d felt Vlad’s proximity like a chill down his spine right before he walked up so there was definitely something there. Hopefully it’d get stronger with time.

He’d rather have some actual warning before a threat got close, although now that he thought about it…

It had taken until tonight for Jason to really understand that the sense of peace which had washed over him at the graveyard and the coffee shop had been directly caused by Danny’s presence.

That had come long before Danny had been in eyeshot, both times. Maybe tonight Danny’s presence had overwhelmed him, masking Vlad until it was too late?

Or Danny’s was just that much bigger. Either way, Jason wasn’t fully sure it was the same sensation. Part of the same sense.

Vlad’s presence was an icy oil sliming down his back, but Danny’s was all warmth and peace. Could that make sense for a guy with an ice core? Or was there something else?

Part of it was the way the pit quieted, there was still an almost euphoric bliss that came with the lack of bubbling rage. In not being constantly at war inside his head.

Being able to fucking hear himself think. Fuck, the fact that it still felt like a luxury was damn depressing. The idea that one day it might be his normal again…

But it hadn’t been long enough since he’d seen Danny to just be that tonight. The pit had been building, but he’d spent the afternoon hanging out with Frostbite’s plant.

It had been ignorable. As normal as he’d been in the last year. And he’d still felt that warm rush as Danny came down the stairs. The second he saw him things fell into place.

That was probably the ghost sense. And maybe a bit of what Clockwork had told him about being the Fright Knight.

The ghost had said he’d always know if Danny was in danger, so it made sense that being able to see Danny and know he wasn’t in danger would feel good. He was doing his duty.

Definitely all that was.

By the time he’d tuned back into the main conversation, they’d moved back to the inevitable rogue attack. Currently? Betting on who it’d be.

“I could go for a Riddler attack,” Steph mused, waving a forkful of potatoes vaguely. “At least he’d know some riddles to keep us busy til the bats arrive.”

“Yeah, cause he totally cares about entertaining his hostages,” Tim snickered and shook his head. “Riddler’s on the run. Red Robin and Nightwing caught him shipping something explosive into the city. WE did the tech analysis,” he added for their guests.

None of whom looked surprised, which was interesting. Tucker seemed interested, but not concerned.

“Oh, did you get to have a look? I’m not much of a hardware guy beyond this beauty,” he said with a loving look to his PDA, then back to Tim.

Who shrugged.

“Personally? No, but I okayed the lab time and bumped them on the priority list. Some of them were a little close to one of our offices.”

“Risks of working in Gotham,” Dick agreed with a sigh, and this time he even filled in the next part himself, “despite if not because of the presence of the police.” He raised his glass to the table.

Steph and Cass cheered, Cass silently, and even Sam snickered. Cass took the next step though, shifting a little back up the curve of the table so they could all see her hands again.

‘Have not seen Poison Ivy in a while. Never met her.’

Sam sighed at that, raising her glass with a dry smile.

“And you won’t, at least tonight. If there was even a small chance she’d be in Gotham, I wouldn’t be,” she added to the Wayne brood, all of whom looked curious.

Jason could guess.

“Are your folks particularly worried about her?” Dick asked, glancing around for the older Mansons. Sam snorted a laugh but let Danny answer.

“Worried that given half a chance Sam will run away and join her. They’re both what you’d call “aggressive environmentalists”,” he added with air quotes.

Tim cocked a brow, grinning.

“That’s a funny way of spelling “ecoterrorists”,” he pointed out lightly, leaning in. “So how do they know she won’t come? She was in Gotham last I heard.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. None too close to their table; Jason had made it a condition that they not be near enough to talk to any others.

Then she leaned in, the entire table following suit. Danny and Tucker seemed equally curious, which was interesting.

“I’m not supposed to know this, and you can’t tell anyone, alright?” She hissed, and the Gothamites nodded along like each and every one of them weren’t about to run the Mansons down for supervillain connections.

Jason tried not to smirk.

Sam met each of their eyes, then continued, her voice low.

“So Tuck, Danny and I knew Vlad was coming to Gotham. I ran an Ivy check to see if my parents would let me come too, so we could keep an eye on him. And my grandma caught me.”

Tucker and Danny leaned back like this explained everything, eyes wide. Steph leaned in further, half out of her chair.

“What did she do?” She whispered.

Sam grinned.

“She recognised her. She was an activist herself when she was younger, really big on the environmental scene…”

“Ida Manson?” Damian asked sharply, head snapping up. Of course he’d know the most about the old environmentalist circles.

Sam looked mildly surprised but nodded.

“That’s her. She was an “anonymous donor” to Ivy a couple different times and obviously she knows about my parents. So she sent her two hundred grand and schematics to a construction company’s HQ that are bulldozing the Amazon.”

“Are your family all connected to supervillains?” Tim asked, fighting a smile. Sam cocked a brow at him.

“Other than being millionaires? Not really beyond voting for Vlad. Mom and Dad are big in the whole “respectability” thing, they wanna keep the family name as clean as possible.”

“And they don’t get much chance in Amity Park,” Tucker added with a snicker, “our villains aren’t really the kind you can buy.”

Sam hummed an affirmation and Danny made a face. He didn’t want anyone looking too closely into what had happened in Amity Park, but Jason figured it was inevitable.

About time Batman found out what he’d been missing.

All of his siblings looked thoroughly confused now, but Dick voiced the question.

“You guys have villains in Amity Park? More than just Vlad?” He asked carefully, sounding every inch the concerned civilian.

Sam rolled her eyes and laughed, setting down her cutlery.

“Not anymore,” she said dryly, reaching for her drink and raising it in a mock toast. Tucker and Danny copied, clinking their glasses together.

This did not illuminate the others. Or Jason, honestly. He’d seen the database, knew the basics, and knew that with Danny as the next Ghost King, his rogues were out of the picture.

He’d figured out that those dud calls from Amity Park? Never actually duds.

Danny had never asked if he knew about any of them as Robin, from that overlapping year between their deaths. Jason still wasn’t sure what to say if it came up again.

He took part in a confused look exchange with Tim, Dick, and Steph, shrugging to indicate that this really wasn’t something he was already in on. Half true.

Damian broke the short silence this time, glowering at all three.

“What villains are you speaking of? And what happened to them?” He asked curtly, his tone easily carrying his disbelief.

Jason’s eyes moved automatically to Sam, but it was Tucker who fielded this one with a casual shrug.

“Ghosts. We got a portal to the Ghost Zone, lot of ghosts decided they wanted to try and take down the town, and one became our local hero to stop the rest,” he explained like he was talking about mildly unseasonal weather.

Tim suddenly looked much less enamoured with his new bestie. Much more wary and confused.

“You… you’re kidding, right?” He asked half hopefully, and yeah, that woulda been Jason’s response a week ago too.

Today, he snickered and waved a two finger salute at his brother.

“Bud. Sat at a table with a literal zombie,” he added when Tim’s head snapped around. “This is so far from the weirdest shit you’ve heard.”

Tim coloured and huffed, puffing up in his seat.

“Yeah, but seriously Jason? Ghosts? Trying to take over an entire town? Someone must have heard something!”

“We sure tried telling them,” Danny agreed cheerfully, clearing his plate with untroubled enthusiasm. “The town got sucked fully into the Ghost Zone once, we only survived because my family made ghost shields.”

It wasn’t just Tim now, half the table looked utterly poleaxed. The only bat not blankly gaping was Cass, when Jason glanced back at her. And slowly, so did the others.

Cass was watching Danny thoughtfully, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit. Then she gave a small nod.

‘Truth,’ she agreed, and Tim exploded.

“What? No way! A whole American city can’t just pop off the map and not be noticed! Someone would have to know?” He sputtered.

Tucker gave him a sympathetic pat on the hand.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. The federal government invented a whole new department just to keep news from getting out. They’re pretty good too,” he added with a grimace.

Tim gaped at him. Dick, suddenly all business, leaned in with a frown.

“A secret government department dedicated to hiding ghosts?” He asked, and yeah, Jason remembered this from the database.

Seemed that with Cass’s clear, Dick was gonna take this seriously. That was… a little refreshing.

Sam gave him a scathing once over, but clearly decided that bullying hours were on hold.

“They’re technically called the Ghost Investigation Ward. Don’t google it or some extremely unpleasant men in white suits will come along to ask why.”

“If we can’t google it, how do we know you’re telling the truth?” Steph asked, her demeanour equally serious.

The three Amity Parkers exchanged thoughtful looks, then Tucker shrugged and scooted his PDA down the table.

“You can look it up on mine. I’ve cracked their systems before, they can’t backhack me,” he explained when Tim nearly jumped on the device.

A small smile broke through Dick’s serious face as Tim got to work, Steph leaning in.

“Seriously, I know I’m only a cop in Bludhaven, but you guys really like admitting to federal crimes,” he said lightly, driving a steep wedge into the rising tension.

Jason snickered along with Danny and Tucker, nodding to Tim.

“You say, like Tim isn’t probably committing the actual same crime two seats down,” he remarked and Dick actually grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, if he wants to borrow my handcuffs he can just ask, but the work ones aren’t for fun stuff.”

Tim flipped him off without looking as Tucker choked, suddenly very interested in his mostly empty plate. Then Tim looked up, expression grave.

“He’s not kidding. They’re syphoning a ton of federal funding, most of it into Amity Park,” he declared and Tucker leaned in to swipe at the screen.

“Non-Amity Park IPs can’t access any of our weather or news stations either,” he explained casually, like they weren’t uncovering a major scandal.

But then, Jason reminded himself, no one had done anything about this for around six years. Why would that change now?

Steph snagged the PDA this time, scrolling down a couple times then stopping to frown at Danny.

“Why does the weather station have something called Fenton Watch?” She asked and Danny groaned, cheeks flushing.

“Thaaaaat reports if my parents are gonna be on the roads… their bad driving is kinda legendary?” He offered sheepishly as Tucker snickered.

“It’s for the definitely-not-street-legal tank I told you about,” he added for Tim alone.

Before any of the others could jump on that juicy sentence a slender hand landed on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well don’t you all seem to be having fun?” Selina purred, smiling down at the table before leaning in. “I just thought I’d drop by and let you know, darling, I’ve already texted Aunt Harley about Bruce’s little stunt.”

She dropped a gentle kiss on the top of Jason’s head, which was fucking weird but… in a good way, patted his shoulder and moved on.

How the fuck had the pit ever convinced Jason that no one cared about him? Although to be fair, there had been a lot less open affection when people still thought he’d shoot them.

It was just a revelation every time, finally getting to look at these litte gestures, these people as just himself. Less bitter, less angry, less certain it was a lie or a trap.

Part of him didn’t want to lose the way it sent soft curls of affection through all the places anger used to burn. Didn’t want to take any of this for granted.

It had been so, so long since he’d felt like he was actually loved. Before his death even. Fuck, it was something he hadn’t had for most of his life.

It was completely different from just knowing.

He’d known Alfred loved him. Known Dick cared, the way he’d thrown himself headlong into bringing Jason home, no matter how many times he nearly got shot.

Knew Cass and Duke both cared without even the shadow of his death between them. But actually feeling it, warm and golden in his chest?

He hadn’t made it easy for any of them. Had fought against even wanting it for so long, sure he didn’t deserve it. Sure he couldn’t have it, so wanting it would only break him.

But here it was. Even Selina standing up to fight his corner, by using Harley as a weapon if needed.

Harley was probably banned by the Geneva Convention so he wouldn’t hold it against her to keep her own claws clean.

He just. His family cared. Even if all that was hurt was his feelings. That was enough for them to even go against Bruce.

(And fuck he knew how stupid that thought was, each new generation of Robins seemed more likely than the last to call B on his shit.

Damian might be slightly less likely than Steph to say the words “go fuck yourself” but he got the sentiment across.

Jason had called B to task plenty of times when he was being an ass to one of them. It just hit different when it was the other way round.)

Dick and Steph were back on their gleeful bullshit, grinning broadly at Jason even as he had his little moment. He wasn’t even gonna look at the rest of the table.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Steph sang happily, dancing in her seat and beaming across the hall at Bruce.

Sam frowned and looked around the table, the full complement of Waynes all grinning broadly bar one. Damian still mostly looked annoyed by the whole affair.

Which was basically how he smiled anyway.

“Wait, did she just say Harley? Like Harley Quinn?” She asked and yeah, oops, they did have a lot to catch each other up on.

Not today though.

“Pretty sure she’s Harley like the motorcycle,” Tim explained off handedly, shooting his own grin in Bruce’s direction, “you’re never allowed to tell her I said it but she’s a little too old to be called Harley like Harley Quinn.”

Didn’t exactly answer the question, but sounded enough like an answer that it seemed to pass. Jason was a little impressed.

“The effect will be about the same though,” Dick added with a snicker, arm cocked on the back of his chair to grin across at Bruce.

Fuck, had the old man been staring at them this whole time? Delightful. Jason very deliberately Did Not look over, finishing his own meal.

The rest of dinner was more reserved, the bats taking Selina’s intervention as a sign to let the heavy stuff drop. Might as well wait until they could do some more research.

The Amity Parkers followed suit and Cass settled, enjoying the time with her family. Teasing Dick, laughing with Steph, and Jason.

She could still see the tension in him, the same as Jason had always had, for as long as she’d known him. Could almost feel the pieces of him that twanged with every move.

She had never seen him seem so… free. He’d been getting better, letting her and Duke and Steph persuade them he was still family. That he was wanted.

It had made parts of the tension worse, and he’d carried himself every day with the fear that he’d hurt them. That they’d change their minds.

She still felt the same fear, sometimes. Knew there was nothing to be done for it but wait for him to come back, hold him close, and not let him push her away.

Because Jason could hurt them. Any of the bats could do serious damage, but most of them not by accident.

Jason lived every day with a weight around his neck, chained to the knowledge that all it’d take was one surge of the pit.

One break in his control and he might hurt one of them in ways nobody could fix.

Cass couldn’t imagine living with that kind of weight. She’d known she was a weapon, raised and trained to violence so she could be pointed and released.

Her father had never understood that she was still the one in control, not him. That she’d obeyed because she chose to, because she loved him, because she craved affection.

That she could walk away as easily as she had, find another family who would love her, and understand that there were… gaps inside her.

Places where she still didn’t know what fit. What to do, what to say when things were hard and her throat got tight. What to do when she messed up and hurt someone.

But at least she knew it would only be her words. Her actions. The hurt she made might be deeper for it and she was still so scared it might one day be too much, but…

She’d never see their blood on her hands.

Jason still did, sometimes. She’d see it when he looked at Tim and his throat closed up. When he stopped breathing for way too long.

When they’d all be teasing him, watching closely, weighing the green in his eyes, and he’d go to snap back at Tim and bite his tongue so hard it bled.

Cass hadn’t been there. Hadn’t seen how bad it had gotten, when Jason first came back. And maybe that was a blessing because she couldn’t have fought him.

Seeing the pain that still wound through him was enough to choke her. Seeing it then, when Bruce refused to believe it was him, Tim’s throat in his hand?

When the pit had his ear, all rage and hate and betrayal?

Her family had nearly broken before she got back. There had nearly been nothing for her to return to.

Instead, she’d come back to a stalemate. Jason’s rage tempered, forced solely onto Bruce while he fought himself to keep the rest of them out of it.

To a new brother, if one who demanded they stay out of his side of the city, who’d fire a shot if they broke his rules.

And maybe it was the same fear, that looming dread that one day she’d hurt them too that had pulled her to him. To reassure herself that even with all he’d done, Jason was still there.

To reassure Jason that there was nothing he could do to lose his family. If they could accept her, gaps and all, they would find space for him.

Maybe it was their shared time with the league, finally free enough to exchange what words they had.

Cass could read anyone. Oh, it wasn’t a science; body language was an art, every subtle twitch and motion possibly meaning a million things, different to each individual.

It took a little time to work out anything beyond the broad strokes, to observe and understand what each person meant by the smaller gestures.

Pain was easy. Physical or emotional, it did a couple things every time. Tension, aggression, training. The things she’d needed when violence was her only language.

Happiness was harder. Worry, stress, the things behind those were still tricky for her to nose out, but she was learning when to push and when not to.

She didn’t always know why, but that was what her words were for.

Jason hadn’t taken any time at all. He’d been as trained by Bruce as any of them, gone through all the rigorous exercises to control himself, hide any traces of emotion if needed.

Cass could never fully put her finger on why it just… didn’t work. Jason could do a poker face better than anyone she knew. Could lock every muscle, go still as stone.

He’d never have survived the league if he couldn’t. And yet she’d just look at him even when the pit wasn’t in control, when rage hadn’t stripped him back to nothing at all, and it was just…

Written all over him. Every worry, every stress, every half smothered moment of hope. She’d taken one look at him in the league and Known him.

It felt like he knew her too, in ways that no one but Damian got close to. Knew the weight of her past, the weight of her mistakes, and how much it burdened her.

He’d come back on the 25th changed, happy in a gentle way, the barest lines of pit rage left. And then the day after Danger Twink there he was again; moving light as air with that choking tension gone.

The longer she saw him with Danny, the more certain she was.

Jason had never been in less danger in his life. Danny had that same air of death, but he was also more alive than anyone she’d ever seen.

And he’d give his right arm if it kept the people around him safe.

It was kind of funny, really. Just like Jason, Danny was surprisingly easy to read.

Oh, young people tended to telegraph more, their emotions writ loud, and she had a good read on Sam and Tucker already. But just like Jason, there was no element of guesswork with Danny.

She didn’t have to wait and keep watching or check her results. It was just… obvious. Heart on his sleeve, even when they talked about the dangers of home.

She could almost feel his curiosity lapping at the edge of her awareness as desserts were brought out, even without looking at him.

She kept to the curved end of the table though, so the rest of them could see her more easily. It still felt… strange doing that. Making herself noticeable.

Even as she’d gotten used to talking, with her hands or with her mouth, she still had trouble with the idea of standing out. Making herself noticeable.

And of course at galas, she usually didn’t even let on she could sign. It was possible that game was up, but anyone else who knew sign was probably less likely to be an ass about her needing it.

But her family wanted to know what she had to say. Valued her input, even for unimportant things. And if Jason had to practice letting them love him, she had to practice letting them hear her.

Metaphorically, sometimes. They didn’t seem to mind.

And she was having more fun than she’d expected tonight. She enjoyed recon, gathering information, but she was enjoying just talking to Sam and Danny too.

They fit with Tucker the way Tim fit with his Young Justice friends. Confident, sure of themselves and their connection.

She’d like to see them in action, although probably not tonight. Not everyone brought their heroing gear to fancy parties. Although most people did in Gotham.

Tonight’s event had been quiet so far if Vlad didn’t count.

It wasn’t destined to last.

The dining hall had mostly emptied out, the party moving back into the main hallways when a dozen windows shattered.

Guests didn’t so much scream as gasp in surprise, although one young woman sounded distinctly angry as a spray of glass splashed into her new drink.

Cass still wasn’t sure she approved of the hall’s sugar-glass as opposed to bulletproof strategy, but she could appreciate the effect.

Just like the movies, the crash and scatter were very impressive, with very little chance of actually hurting anyone.

Personally Cass thought a few more rogues could do with slamming face first into bulletproof glass.

It might not deter the attacks, but it’d either dampen the enthusiasm or bring out the bazookas. Either way, heavier weapons came off the streets.

She was a little surprised to see Killer Croc bursting through the large double doors though. Not quite enough to pause on her way to a dark corner, but she noted it.

He usually preferred to stick to overt mobsters rather than dirty his teeth on Gotham’s elite. Luckily, he wasn’t the type to leave anyone guessing.

“Where the fuck is Harvey Dent?” He roared, grabbing an attendant by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

Cass’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the number of assailants, the question marks on their suits. Riddler must not have been as down as Tim assumed, and that could be bad news.

On the other hand, if Riddler was here they’d know by now.

She’d lost most of the others when the crowd surged together, contracting, and finally reached up to push a comm into her ear. Heard Sam yell in the background.

“CASS!”

And felt her chest compress for just a moment.

She’d seen Sam Manson at galas before, two or maybe even three times. She’d always seemed annoyed, resentful, angry underneath that pretty smile.

They’d exchanged nods. Waves. Nothing that should have Sam screaming for her when trouble finally broke.

Then there were other screams, and Cass has to fight a smile. No, Sam wasn’t scared for her. Sam sounded absolutely fucking furious.

Her parents must have been right to worry too, because from the sound of it she’d taken it out on whichever unfortunate body Cass had used to slip away.

She’d have felt bad if she was less certain Sam would have loved to deck anyone at the gala anyway. It was a little sweet that she’d been clocked as a civilian.

Someone to protect. That might be nice one day.

Sam was still swearing to beat the band, audible even as the goons tried to gather the fragmenting crowd together.

Cass skidded under a refreshment table, comm in her ear coming to life.

“Report.” Bruce. Not doing the Batvoice, so somewhere in the pile. Possibly intentionally, if Croc was after Dent.

“Out,” she hissed, sticking to the edges of the room as she let her suit blend her into the shadows. Much easier than dresses, whatever Steph said.

“Out,” came Tim’s voice, sounding a little rushed. Sloppy.

“Out,” Steph called, and Cass was a little surprised at that. The other girl had been close to their civilians too, and she hadn’t thought they’d both make it undetected.

“In,” Dick whispered, voice barely audible. But Cass could hear Sam still yelling when his comm picked up, “With Manson, lost Hood.”

So. Not as undetected as all that.

“Out,” Damian huffed, sounding thoroughly annoyed with all of them. More so a moment later when Cass slipped into the same shadow. “Amateurs.”

Jason just grunted, obviously not in a position to subvocalise. Obviously still in.

A bare second for analysis, then-

“Nightwing. Leave your civilian with Hood and extract. Hood, remain engaged. Eyes on Jason Todd-Wayne.”

Which, to a listening stranger, would sound like a protection order instead of what it was; a reminder that Jason in particular was being watched.

Jason couldn’t have put a more articulate “fuck you” into the words themselves as he grunted again, still deep in the crowd.

Poor Jason. He always hated being the one to be rescued.

Too bad for him Cass quite liked the chance to do it. Red Hood was just so big and tanky, everyone expected him to come charging to the rescue.

Swooping in to save his day was extra fun because of that. He couldn’t even hide his pout behind his helmet in civilian clothes.

Cass and Damian made their way to the back rooms, dodging goons who must have come in through the windows here.

They were still sweeping the halls, grabbing any guests who’d managed to get out of the main halls and muscling them back in.

It was easy for the bats to duck into one of the cleared rooms. Both shucked their suits to reveal their night gear, Damian pulling his cape and domino from a concealed wall safe.

Cass just needed her mask, which fit inside her Black Bat suit pocket beneath the main suit. She wasn’t surprised Damian had been layering too.

Most of the bats did, or at least kept a domino on them for plausible deniability. After all, it wasn’t called the surprising or unexpected rogue attack.

Both now fully suited up, Cass and Damian exchanged looks.

‘Ready?’ Cass asked, and Damian tutted.

“Fenton is a meta,” he reaffirmed, eyes narrowing behind him domino. Cass ruffled his hair and headed for the door.

“Agree,” she reassured him softly, and felt him startle. Poor kid. Damian had plenty of his own issues around being heard. Belonging. “Best not out.”

His brows furrowed and he rolled his arms, but followed.

“Todd needs to know what he’s dealing with,” he grumbled as they listened at the door.

Cass kinda wished she’d left a mouth on her mask, but the reasons not to had outweighed letting the others see her smile. They could usually tell anyway.

“Disappeared together,” she reminded Damian softly instead, attention now split to the hall outside. Things were quieting down.

Damian’s pout grew more pronounced, then he shook himself and refocused.

“Perhaps we will see what he is made of now,” he mused under his breath.

Cass considered reminding him that it might not be safe for Danny to use whatever meta abilities he had, but decided not to. After all, her family more than proved that there were people out there who didn’t much care for “safe”.

It was also their job to make sure no one else had to put themselves in harm’s way. Even if they were curious.

Pushing out into the hall, she and Robin took the high road.

Still buried in the middle of the crowd, Dick kept a hand on Sam’s shoulder as they were buffeted around. Keeping them together, as close as they could.

He might have worried about doing it except that she, clearly also used to rogue attacks and crowd control, had wrapped his tie around her fist like she had him on a leash.

Yeah, he kinda fucking loved Sam Manson. Perfect little sister vibes.

He’d managed to get his earpiece in undetected, taking advantage of her telling off some unfortunate soul who’d cut between her and Cass.

They were all being herded towards the dining hall again now, surrounded by a circle of goons and prodded as Croc’s yells directed them.

“Everybody shut the fuck up and stick together! We’ll be out of your hair just as soon as we have all your valuables and that little fucker Dent!”

Dick was pretty damn sure he saw the same lady who’d been talking to them when Vlad showed up slip earrings, bracelet, and her fucking phone into that silly fan.

Apparently it wasn’t just a weirdly anachronistic accessory. Good for her.

Through the doors he could see the henchmen beginning to split the crowd into smaller groups, grabbing and pushing and fuck, he’d have to drop Sam off before reaching that.

Luckily he was pretty sure he could already see Jason, and he leaned into Sam’s ear.

“Look, I’ll be able to look for Cass better on my own, they’re splitting us up and I don’t want her on her own. Can I drop you with Jason and the guys? So I can tell Cass you’re okay,” he added quickly when her head snapped round, eyes narrowed.

She studied his expression for a moment then snorted, digging into a very well concealed pocket in her skirt and pulling out what looked a lot like a tiny taser.

He was gonna get Steph the name of her dressmaker. If they didn’t already use the same one.

“Whatever. This’ll help you get through the crowds, I can get to the guys,” she grumbled back, not quite shouting over the noise of the crowd.

Dick gave her his best apologetic grin, and took the taser to see what it’d do. Always nice to see a new toy.

“Cass’ll have my ass if she even thinks I left you with some of these creeps so unless you have-” before he could finish the sentence Sam had already pulled out a second, larger taser.

She gave him the baby one.

Stifling a laugh, he checked on Jason’s position again, noted the three people between them, and gave Sam a gentle nudge in the right direction.

“Alright, alright, you’re clearly more prepared than me, but we’re nearly there so jet.”

Sam gave him a sarcastic half smile, the man behind her jumped about a foot in the air, and Dick flicked his comm.

“Hood, confirm receipt,” he hissed, sticking close until he got another confirming grunt from Jason.

Then he made his way to the edge of the crowd, tucking his shoulders in to shrink his silhouette. A guy couldn’t hang out with Superman and Clark Kent without learning a few things.

It was a little closer than he’d have liked, but he managed to duck into a shadow just before crossing through the dining room doors.

A pair of goons hurried to close the party inside and he hurried to find a good spot to change. And a thought struck him.

“Hey, anyone think it’s too late to page in Signal?”

A series of muffled giggles and gasps came back, mostly muted, and Bruce sighed heavily.

“Fine. Going dark, coordinate yourselves around Red Robin.”

Someone must have decided to fish Bruce Wayne out of the crowd. Hoping Jason wasn’t too close, Dick pulled out his phone and a domino from separate pockets.

Duke might get to meet Danny in person after all. It was only 8pm.

Oh, and there was one more thing.

“Manson gave me a new taser.”

Jealous grumbles filled the air and Dick grinned as he stashed his jacket and tie.

“She also kept a bigger one for herself. We’ve got some spicy civilians today,” he commented cheerfully, testing the weight of the new taser as he moved to the windows.

Very nice, small and sleek and light, in a white and green scifi design. Just the thing some rich society types might give their little girl to keep her safe in Gotham.

Maybe he’d even get a chance to use it; escrima sticks did not fit well under tight trousers. Oh, there was a pair hidden, but where was the fun in that?

And maybe if he was extra lucky, Sam’d let him take a look at the bigger one after the fun was over. Preferably not on the receiving end.

Gotham was… confusing. Vlad didn’t know what to make of it.

These people were so damn scandalised by him putting a gentle hand on a young adult, yet armed goons and some form of crocodile man were apparently completely normal.

Oh, there was the odd cry, the occasional scream as a couple of hundred members of Gotham’s high society were pushed around, but from the quiet chatter surrounding him, this sort of nonsense was expected.

Amity Parkers reacted more than this to ghost attacks, and no one was ever seriously hurt during those. Not a lot more, obviously, but still.

He was almost becoming annoyed.

If he didn’t have his ghost sense he might have thought this “Killer Croc” was a ghost of some kind. He had that love of drama, the need for noise and attention.

It made Vlad think of Skulker really. Still, it was almost nice to know that the living could be just as dramatic. Ghosts had to come from somewhere after all.

Vlad could tolerate a little drama in other people, but he certainly had no time for it himself.

None at all.

Nope.

Still, there was something decidedly amusing about the whole situation. With the barest fraction of his powers he could likely deal with the whole crew.

Hells, they were few enough it’d hardly been a strain to overshadow every single one of the three dozen or so goons.

But that wouldn’t be fun now would it?

From what his neighbours were saying, though still none directly to him, the end result of these little messes was as predictable as the event itself.

Gotham had so many masked vigilantes at least one or two were sure to be close, and then the evening could continue. Perhaps a pause to redistribute valuables.

Personally, Vlad would prefer Gotham’s vigilantes take their time to show up. He’d been on the receiving end of Daniel’s heroic tendencies plenty of times.

It would be quite entertaining to be the one being saved. They’d all been separated into groups of fifteen, each with their own goon minder holding out what Vlad was sure was a fucking pillowcase for valuables.

A pillowcase. It didn’t even have handles. Yes, definitely better treat this as an amusing diversion because otherwise he’d have to be insulted.

Still, Vlad was content for now to sit on the floor, eyes scanning the room mostly patiently for his little badger.

That green scaly gentleman was stalking between the clusters of guests, ranting and raving about this “Dent” he was looking for.

Vlad doubted he’d get results, but perhaps once this whole mess was tidied up he would look into acquiring his services. Depending on how well he did when things got… messy.

He wasn’t paying him much mind at the moment though, because he’d just caught sight of a familiar flash of white hair.

Just Jason. No Phantom yet, but that was fine. And what a fun potential opportunity to see what their new halfa was like under pressure…

And as expected, there was Daniel, tucked close to the boy’s side. Still with Samantha and Tucker too, which was sure to make Daniel happy.

Adjusting himself more comfortably, Vlad settled in to wait. Daniel would make some sort of move soon. He was dimly aware that Brucie Wayne had just been pulled from the crowd.

Sam leaned in over Danny’s left shoulder, keeping her voice low.

“So Vlad’s fucking staring at us across the hall like the biggest creep on earth,” she hissed, and Danny automatically almost jolted to look.

Caught himself just in time. Leaned back against her, most of his attention still on Killer Croc.

“Think he had anything to do with this?” He asked under his breath, his gaze now meandering slowly across the other groups.

Yup, there was Vlad. Staring straight at him. Smiling when their eyes met, before Danny’s could dart away.

Ew.

“Does he look super expectant to anyone else?” Tucker whispered from behind them. Jason let out a soft growl, probably without even thinking about it.

Danny slipped a hand into his, squeezing gently.

Calm-relax-help is coming

Was not quite prepared for the shock that flashed back before Jason got it under control.

Jason hadn’t officially told Danny that the other Waynes and associates were the bats yet. He kinda didn’t have to.

Even if Jason had left the life after his death, that didn’t mean the family had. Still, it also wasn’t Jason’s secret to share, so Danny pretended to ignore it.

Much more productive to try and work out what the fuck Vlad’s angle was. Some kind of trick where he could play the hero and cozy up to Bruce?

Could he have orchestrated an attack with some of Gotham’s rogues? So far all of Croc’s demands had been for valuables and Harvey Dent, whoever that was.

There were surprisingly few actual valuables forthcoming too. Danny and Sam had obediently dropped their phones into an offered pillowcase, and wrestled Tucker’s precious PDA from his fingers.

The question mark guy had taken one look at it and tossed it back, declaring it junk. Aaaand Danny had shoved a fist into Tucker’s mouth while Sam reminded him that if he defended Ida’s worth, they’d take her.

He still wasn’t happy, but he had her in hand so he’d settled a lot more easily than the alternative.

Still, none of the pillowcases were really bulging, which was kinda weird. Most of the jewellery that had been on prominent sparkly display had kinda vanished when the windows shattered.

Some bigger pieces had been handed over, but Danny would swear the tiny harmless old lady in their group had had full bangles, necklace, earrings, and six rings on top of the ornate hair comb she’d handed over.

Weirder still, the goons seemed more annoyed than surprised.

“C’mon, don’t make me shake your fucking pockets out,” their guy growled, sending a kick at a young man near the edge of their circle. “Phones, wallets, jewellery, now!”

A single phone was passed up. An utterly unbelievable four from a group of fifteen. Danny raised his hands, trying to keep his Obsession on the back burner.

This wasn’t his city. Not his job. And if he changed to fight these guys, he’d be putting his friends in danger.

That last part was carrying most of the weight, honestly. And he’d finally lost his No Rogues streak.

Bummer. He’d been going for a campus record.

For tonight though, he could also distract himself with what the fuck Vlad was up to.

Pillowcase might be the one tossing his weight around, but long experience had taught Danny that he couldn’t protect anyone if he got caught in Vlad’s machinations.

That knowing little fucking smirk on Vlad’s face when their eyes met. The fucker was up to something, Danny knew it.

Well, there was one way to work out what. Glancing over at Jason, Danny made a face.

He’d understand. And maybe Danny could warn him a little better this time? Cuz if he got that overwhelmed every time, it’d be a real problem when they started training.

Then again, Danny had had a hard enough time with strong auras when he first got started, and he’d had a full core. Jason didn’t and Danny was… well, a lot bigger than Skulker or Technus.

Also Jason was still holding his hand. Which he had completely forgotten. Yup, his focus was totally great today.

He leaned in towards Jason instead, trying not to get differently distracted by the large man’s tension. Lots of muscles, well fitted suit, it would happen to anyone!

Except him. Today. Because there was a problem.

“Hey… I’m gonna try and get a read on Vlad, but that means I’ve gotta extend again. You good?”

It took every single second of every one of his four years with the League of Assassins to stop Jason flushing cherry red.

Great.

Best evening ever.

Highlight of his life.

His fucking king was checking if he was gonna pop a boner if he did some intel. Maybe he shoulda just fucking stayed in his damn grave.

It Did Not help that he could feel Danny’s concern creeping along the back of his neck like the lightest touch. Although…

Brow furrowing a little, Jason tried to chase down the feeling. Better than dealing with his own emotional state, which was Not Going There.

Danny felt… worried? About him? Not in the totally mortifying way Jason expected either. This felt almost soft.

Like he worried Jason might be hurt or upset if he did it.

There was a chance Danny hadn’t noticed.

Jason had been overwhelmed by Frostbite in the Far Frozen, it’d be a perfect cover if Danny hadn’t noticed the… key difference between the two.

Although the distinct amusement he could feel radiating off Sam suggested that she might have. Great again.

Since when could he feel human emotions?

How sure was he that Sam was still just human. She wasn’t a halfa, that was clear because there was no way Danny and Vlad could have missed it.

There were a lot of things between living and dying though. Jason was beginning to wonder just how many of them toed the edge of that particular line.

For now, he cleared his throat and tried to work out how best to seem like a totally-not-turned-on-by-your-looming-presence-in-my-every-breath guy.

Maybe it’d be better if he knew what to expect.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

In all his years as a halfa and eventually the king of ghosts, Danny had never actually felt someone just turn themselves off before.

Jason’s aura shut down like he’d flicked a switch, his face suddenly completely unreadable. It was fucking weird, the sudden void where he’d been used to ignoring a background hum.

Maybe he’d fucked Jason up worse than he’d thought before. All those thoughts and feelings could be overwhelming, and Danny had tried not to send any messages beyond his presence, but…

His fucking presence was kind of a lot these days. Even he didn’t know how loud it’d get, it had been a long time since he’d faced down Pariah Dark.

And that had been a life or death situation. He’d been ready to deal with it. He’d kinda sprung this on Jason today.

Fuck, just the thought he might have hurt Jason twanged on the strings currently pulled taught by his Obsession. Made him want to wrap the other halfa up and Protect him from the world.

Which was exactly the thing that’d hurt Jason in the first place. No way he’d wanna deal with that again.

He was about to apologise for even mentioning it when he felt Jason slowly open up. Reaching back, probing and…

Danny didn’t try and look. Didn’t want to know what his words had caused which made the other man do That.

He didn’t need to though. Embarrassment-worry-hope spilled from that questing contact, and Danny made a specific effort not to think about it.

Jason was a big guy. Big and strong and clearly worked for his strength. Being caught in any moment of weakness probably sucked for him.

Hard to relate to, since even though Danny was technically the biggest and scariest fish in the whole damn ocean, he’d been a scrawny little fuck for his entire full life.

He’d been ground in the dirt long after he’d had the strength to stop it, and feigning weakness had kinda kicked that whole ego thing in the ass.

It helped when he was having to relive his most embarrassing highlights to prepare Jason for the “fun” of developing halfa powers.

Relief came through loud enough that Danny nearly smiled, nearly sent something back to reassure him, but he held off. It… didn’t feel intentional?

And yeah, very normal that Jason hadn’t liked the near-telepathy Danny’s empathy gave him into his thoughts and feelings before. It was invasive.

Buuuuut that worked for him when the one he was invading was a creepy old fuck with the occasional world domination scheme.

He glanced up when Jason cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

Danny wasn’t gonna insult him by calling him a liar. Closing his eyes, he did his best to tamp down his presence and just reach across the hall.

Watching their whispered discussion with interest, Vlad almost wished he could hear them. Or spread his own energy the way Daniel could, far enough to read them from a distance.

That must have been what they were discussing though, because a moment later he could feel the stroking Presence of Daniel across his very soul.

Let the boy look. He had nothing to hide.

Danny’s eyes snapped open, blatantly dumbfounded.

“He’s fucking waiting for me to rescue him,” he hissed, almost loud enough to attract their goon’s attention.

Luckily another couple were busily insisting they simply did not own a cellphone. In Gotham city. In this day and age.

Just tell the guy to go fuck himself why don’t you.

None of the others seemed to know what to do with Danny’s revelation, though Jason’s lips pressed into a very thin line.

Danny would put money on repressing laughter.

Sam seemed to be on the same wavelength, brightening up and leaning in to Danny’s other ear.

“Wanna save literally anyone but him?” She murmured under her breath, glancing around the room.

Danny clapped a hand over his mouth ahead of any wayward giggles.

“SAM. There are bats about!” He hissed through his fingers and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah so stay Fenton. You could still punch Killer Croc, it’s not like he has ectoblasts.”

Why did she have a point.

Why was Jason suddenly grinning at him, so bright with glee-mischief-fuckery Danny didn’t even need his aura to see it.

“Danny. Remember what my brother called you?” He asked quietly, leaning in almost close enough to be… distracting. Which was totally the only reason it took Danny a moment to twig.

Longer than Tucker anyway.

“Danger twink,” the Black man whistled with a wicked glee of his own. A grin spread across Danny’s own face.

“Oh… hell yes.”

As usual, Bruce found himself in a position to fully agree with his children.

Galas sucked.

Of course, that wasn’t unique to this one. He felt the same way most of the time. He understood the importance of keeping up appearances, but he’d rather spend the night asleep if he couldn’t be working.

Usually, the rogue attack was a pleasant diversion. A chance to watch his family at work. Bruce didn’t mind playing hostage for them.

Today, he was just frustrated.

He needed to talk to Jason. Needed to catch up with Tim, get whatever intel he’d acquired. Needed to get Jason away from this Danny and keep him safe.

The Riddler’s men pulling him from the crowds while they split them into manageable chunks was unfortunately expected. Brucie’s friendship with Harvey Dent was well known.

As little as he liked it, Batman preferred having some control of the situation. What he couldn’t understand was why Killer Croc and Riddler would both think Harvey was here.

Croc could sometimes be reasoned with, he’d gotten away from the Gotham nightlife more than once, but he kept being pulled back in.

Tonight did not seem to be one of his good nights.

Brucie fixed his best smile in place as the scaled man bellowed at him.

“We’re gonna find yer pal Dent, Brucie! Just give him up!”

Luckily, he’d put a lot of work into making Brucie as vapid as possible.

“Gee, it’s a surprise to see you here today, Mister Croc. I heard you had moved to Coney Island to do shows, I was really looking forward to bringing my kids down to see you,” he said cheerfully, like they were catching up in a cafe.

Croc was not amused. Yellow eyes narrowed.

“An’ now I’m here, and the only person I wanna see is that half barbecued mess you call a friend,” he growled, grabbing the front of Brucie’s shirt and shaking him roughly.

Bruce let himself flop, eyes going wide and terrified.

With any luck, Kane would be busy on the other side of town. He’d rather be able to check in with her later about the whole Danny scenario, her opinion unbiased.

“I’m sorry sir but I don’t think I can help you,” he gasped, hands coming up to clutch Croc’s, “Harvey isn’t here.”

That made the man stop, those slit pupils dilating as he squinted down into Brucie’s face. He did his very best wide eyed, empty headed socialite back.

He seemed to be coming to a conclusion as one of the Riddler’s men stepped up, holding up a tablet. On screen, there was the Riddler, idly spinning his cane.

“How goes the man hunt, Croccy?” He asked over the speakers, barely glancing at the man in his grasp.

Killer Croc examined Brucie for a moment longer, then snorted and dropped him. Brucie dropped to the floor, gasping for air and keeping at an angle where he could see the screen.

Had Riddler’s new bombs been intended for the gala all along? Or was this retaliation for the warehouse raid?

“He ain’t here yet,” Croc grumbled, and Bruce noted that for later.

Had Harvey been planning to attack the gala? As always with Two Face, it’d be a coin toss. The bats hadn’t heard that he was planning anything, but that didn’t always mean he wasn’t.

Riddler tutted softly, still spinning his cane.

“Well, we have time to wait. Are all the guests ready?”

His goon turned obediently, panning the tablet’s camera around the room. Brucie let himself drop slightly further back to keep the screen in sight, laying on the floor.

“Excellent.” Riddler sounded satisfied, which probably wasn’t good. “Croc!”

The goon turned again, bringing the camera back to face Killer Croc. Bruce was familiar enough with his face to see the reluctant tick of a smirk at the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t exactly a dignified job, being the tablet bearer. Still, it did put this man lower on the priority list for his children to take out, so it had advantages.

“Yeah, yeah,” Killer Croc grumbled, also turning back to the room at large, and Bruce tensed. He was losing their interest.

“If Harvey-” he was cut off by a casual kick from Killer Croc, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that he had no choice but to crumple around it.

Batman could tank a hit. Brucie couldn’t be allowed to look even half as capable.

And then his heart froze in his chest as Croc bellowed to the rest of the room.

“Where’s the man of the hour?”

In the shadows of the ceiling, Nightwing, Spoiler, and Red Robin froze as one. Black Bat and Robin were mapping the perimeter, checking the number of goons and any extra defences before Signal arrived.

Sharing a quick set of worried glances, Nightwing swung lightly across the hall to get a better look at the tablet. Tapped at his comm.

“Odds they want anything good with Jason?” He asked in a whisper, grimacing when Spoiler and Red Robin shook their heads as one.

Yeah. He figured.

“Odds we can move in now and get it over with?” Not that he expected them to be high.

Spoiler held out a hand palm down and wiggled it from side to side. Before any of them could speak, Robin commed in.

“Negative. There’s another dozen of Riddler’s men out here, setting up some sort of machine. It seems you caught the very tail end of his efforts,” he added with a disdainful scoff.

A grin tugged at Nightwing’s lips as Red Robin visibly twitched.

“That or he’s retaliating for his latest plan being foiled,” he offered cheerfully.

He didn’t particularly have any investment in them not having taken Riddler out of the picture; the man himself wasn’t in Arkham, so he’d assumed he’d be back.

Maybe not this soon, but Nigma could be volatile if his careful preparations were disturbed. And since he also wasn’t here…

“Something’s wrong either way, Riddler loves being on scene far too much to stay in the shadows,” Red Robin hissed, eyes still darting around. “He’d want to send a taunt to the Bats.”

“He’s gonna be real disappointed that we’re all here already if he’s posted up somewhere else,” Spoiler pointed out with a slight smirk, glancing around the hall. “Should we ask Signal to hold back?”

“Hey, you got me out of bed for the Danger Twink,” Signal cut in, just a hint of a grunt indicating he was already on his way.

“Batwoman and Bluebird can hunt him down if the taunt comes,” Red Robin cut them both off, brows furrowed in that all too familiar calculating frown.

Which, yeah. It’d be bugging him way more than Nightwing that something was off with the rogues’ behaviour. Red Robin liked knowing everything about everyone, all the time.

Nightwing didn’t mind switching it up, though every bat knew how to roll with the punches.

The lack of a puzzle was odd though. Riddler usually didn’t move in public until he had at least something ready to share.

Reaching up, he tapped his comms.

“Hey Robin, any chance you can get a closer look at what they’re setting up? See what we’re gonna be dealing with before Puzzle Quest starts?”

Robin just sounded impatient, flicking his own comms loud enough they all heard the impact.

“That is what I am doing. Thus far it seems rather basic. No recording or transmitting equipment.”

Which meant that either Riddler was set up to broadcast somewhere else, or this really wasn’t his operation. But what would Riddler have to gain from working with Killer Croc?

Or were they both just looking for Two face?

Too many questions, and they weren’t likely to get the answers without at least two of the rogues in question. Hopefully someone else would get their hands on Riddler, if he wasn’t coming personally.

Maybe it wasn’t great that more than half the family were on site. Fucking typical that this would be the first rogue attack ever without the rogues physically present.

Red Robin’s head rose, and Nightwing settled into position to wait. Time for the plan.

“Black Bat, finish your sweep and let us know if there’s anything else being set up on site, Spoiler go to join her. Signal, sweep the outer perimeter when you arrive, be on the watch for Riddler himself or more goons.”

Spoiler nodded, making her way from the hall through the chandelier maintenance hatch. Red Robin looked across at Nightwing, and he gave him a thumbs up.

“I’ll get a little closer and see if I can’t get an eye on that screen while you hack the feed?” He asked, and grinned when Red Robin shot him a grateful smile.

It was hard for any of them to keep up when Tim fell into his full planning mode, whether they were masked or not. Any time he didn’t have to spell things out he was happy.

Nightwing never held it against him. The kid could leave Batman spinning his wheels and he’d been frustrated often enough when he had to explain his plans to the Teen Titans.

Knowing that everyone in the room was smart and capable did not help when you were talking at cross purposes.

Tonight, he attached a line to one of the ornate pillars along the walls and lowered himself down into the shadows of one of the draped blue hangings.

If nothing else, it gave him a good view as Jason was pulled from his little group.

Little Wing looked… well, not that they’d expected him to look terrified or even particularly concerned, but he looked seriously amused by the situation.

This should be good.

It wasn’t that Jason had been expecting to be singled out. As far as most of the rogues knew, the Waynes were just another one of the richest families in town.

Good to shake down for cash, but not usually of any special interest. He was pretty sure most of the rogues couldn’t even name half the adopted kids.

So being called out by Killer Croc? Not expected. That it had happened literally right after he and Danny had been discussing plans to start shit?

Incredible. 10/10, Croc was moving up on his favourite villain list. He’d always been high, but this might do it.

It helped that the rush of Danny’s Presence had been more manageable this time. Whether it was having been warned or just experiencing it before, he hadn’t been swept off his feet.

It was still a lot, as if Danny had laid himself along Jason’s back and then pulled his way straight into his body. But he could breathe. Could think, could focus, and then it was gone again.

And being summoned by Killer Croc pretty much right away.

Maybe the adrenaline helped. Who fucking knew.

He raised a hand as the goons all turned to their groups, squinting suspiciously at the socialites.

“That’d be me?” He offered dryly, already rising as their riddler minion made as if to push through their group.

Sam grabbed Danny’s arm as Jason moved away, and onlookers might have confused it as her wanting comfort, or stopping Danny from following.

This close, Jason knew it was a warning for Danny not to actually laugh. The timing was just… the actual fucking best.

Killer Croc actually moved down towards him too, rather than having Jason brought up to the stage. Even better. Jason didn’t exactly square up, but he didn’t back down.

Croc seemed to approve, giving Jason an entirely unsubtle once over as he stopped just in front of him.

Better play carefully though. He’d worked with Croc as the Red Hood, and he already knew Roy’s real identity.

Croc had been running with Harley lately (and Jason kinda loved that partnership made in Hell) but he wasn’t officially on the list of Rogues Who Knew.

Luckily the plan wasn’t for Jason to take a swing at him.

“So yer back from the dead,” Croc growled, something in his eye making Jason wonder if they might not have to update that list after all. “Coulda sworn you were a scrawny little shit.”

Jason shrugged. It wasn’t really something he could deny; he’d grown almost a foot and a half. Being dead: weirdly good for growth spurts.

“I got better.”

What it was to Croc though… unless he did know who Jason really was. But then he’d have known Jason had been back for a while.

Croc rumbled something under his breath, and Jason made a note to run him down later as Red Hood. He’d been settled in Coney Island, finally out of the game.

Jason wasn’t gonna put him in Arkham if there was a chance they could fix whatever had dragged him back to town. And they could catch up. See what he actually knew.

Eyes narrowing just a little, Croc caught a scaly thumb under Jason’s jaw and tipped his face back and forth.

“So what the hell’ve you done to piss of Two Face, kid?” He asked in a lower growl, not quite quiet enough for privacy but not yelling to the whole hall.

Jason’s brows furrowed.

So they weren’t after Dent as a guest. He’d been planning an attack on the gala. Whether he’d still go through with it now though…

And the good news was, best case scenario here was to tell the truth. At least some of it.

“No idea. I’ve only been back in the land of the living for a couple weeks.” And he hadn’t run across Two Face recently in any costume.

Croc chuckled softly, which Jason was going to weigh in the “might know” column, but was interrupted by Riddler shouting across the hall.

“Just bring the boy here, Croccy, we need to set the stage before our fickle friend shows up!” He sounded impatient, and Jason watched annoyance flick across Croc’s eyes.

But the big man just shrugged, curling an arm around Jason’s bicep and tugging him towards the stage.

Yeah, Jason could feel just how much Danny didn’t like that development. There was a new undercut of tension alongside the amused-excited-anticipation.

And it was as good a time as any to start the show.

“What do you guys want with Two Face?” He asked as Croc dragged him, moving with him but not quite keeping up.

Flicking wait-soon-just one second as much as he could towards Danny.

Croc glanced back and gave him a harsher yank to keep up, attention now fixed on the stage. Where a couple more of Riddler’s goons had appeared, holding what looked fascinatingly like a bomb vest.

Joy. Not just Croc’s idea then.

“You’ll see just as soon as he shows up,” the big guy growled, and Jason sighed. So much for the easy way.

Ready-ready-ready

DUCK

“Catching” one toe on the heel of his other shoe, Jason stumbled and fell to the floor. As expected Croc twisted to glare down at him, grip still tight on his arm. Even bent over just a little, like he’d seen the script.

Perfect.

Which meant he didn’t see Danny vaulting up from his spot on the floor and wasn’t even a little prepared for an entire scrawny but muscular young man to land squarely straddling his shoulders, his added weight and momentum pitching Croc forwards and down to the ground.

Danny rode him down like a rodeo champ, leaning back and grinning at Jason as a hail of batarangs came from the ceiling.

“Come here often?” He asked cheerfully as Croc roared, clawed hands swiping up just after Danny rolled away down his back.

Jason snorted a laugh, pulling free as well and backing away.

Fucking danger twink. Yeah, he was kinda in love.

——————-

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dpxdc #dp x dc #dead on main ship #the inevitable rogue attack #danny fenton x jason todd #and here is where shit gets real #nobody correctly guessed who was coming #but i’m gonna keep making you wait 😈#also for sam’s pov we’ll get her at the real climax of the event

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