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Jason Todd hates many things.
Batman, for starters (ignoring how he often works with the man), the Joker, for obvious reasons, Bruce, sometimes (when he’s being particularly annoying about Jason’s brand of violence and when he’s trying to trick Jason into staying at the manor), Brucie Wayne, all the time, and lastly, the fact that Batburger increased their prices for their combo meals—so, inflation.
But what he hates most of all is being woken up at eight in the morning by his annoying big brother, who stands in the hallway outside his apartment with red-rimmed eyes and tears clinging to his lashes.
Wait, what?
“Why are you crying?” Jason demands, hastily throwing his knife at the nearby dart board. It hits the middle circle, and Jason can’t even revel in his victory because he’s too concerned about his brother. “Who hurt you? Was it Wally? Do I have to shoot him?”
(Not that he needs a reason to shoot the man who’s dating Dick, but Bruce might be willing to look the other way if he did have one. Hell, he might even join Jason in his mission to protect Dick’s honor.)
“No,” Dick says in a wobbly voice.
“Oh.” Jason frowns and leans away from Dick to glance at the time on the microwave. Yep, still early, but he makes no mention of this as he looks back at Dick. “Then, why are you here?”
Dick sniffles pathetically. Unfortunately, he’s not an ugly crier, so it just makes Jason feel bad for the man. “I really want your beignets,” he says, somehow managing to sound so sad and hopeful at the same time. “Can you make some for me?”
Jason stares at him. “You want me to make you beignets,” he says slowly.
“Yes,” Dick says and bursts into tears.
★★
After panicking for several minutes, Jason drags his brother into his apartment, guides him to the couch, wraps his worn-out, soft blanket around his shoulders, stuffs tissues into his hand, and quickly enters the kitchen to get started on those beignets.
Thankfully, he has some dough set aside and ready for use because he planned on making some for Kori, Roy, and Lian. Jason decides to use it for his blubbering big brother instead, reminding himself to message his friends (and honorary child slash mascot) later to postpone their weekly hangout.
It takes a while, but soon, Jason has a plate full of warm beignets covered in powdered sugar. He carries it into the living room, where Dick lies on Jason’s couch, face still damp and eyes fixed on Jason’s TV.
He glances at the screen. It’s playing The Real Housewives of New Jersey.
“You watch this trash?” Jason wonders, wrinkling his nose. He sets the plate down on his coffee table, watching as Dick slowly sits up, rubs his eyes, and leans over to pick out a beignet. Of course, it’s the one with the most sugar on top. “Tell me how they taste.”
Dick takes a bite.
Immediately, he starts crying again.
“What?” Jason asks, panicked. “Did I fuck them up? Are they okay? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Dick says hoarsely and sobs. “They’re just so good, Jay.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Jason doesn’t know what to do now. He’s never seen Dick cry this hard, and he had to sit through Dick weeping into his hands when he showed Jason The Fox and the Hound back in Jason’s Robin days.
(Yes, Jason cried, too, but that’s beside the point.)
Slowly, stiffly, Jason takes a seat beside Dick. He raises a hand, hesitates, and rests it on Dick’s back, patting it a few times.
“There, there,” he says awkwardly. “Um. You can have all the beignets if you want.”
“I do,” Dick says thickly. “I really do.”
“And you can stay as long as you need.”
Dick sniffles again, leaning against Jason. He feels warm. “Thanks, Little Wing,” he whispers, wiping his eyes and smearing powdered sugar across his face. “And thank you for the beignets. Sorry for… everything. I just wanted something sweet, and I couldn’t stop thinking about them.”
“You could have gone to that little jazz cafe across the Wayne Enterprise building,” Jason says. “The ones they make are pretty decent, and they’re always fresh.”
“I didn’t want pretty decent ones,” Dick says, sounding petulant. “I wanted yours.”
Jason rolls his eyes, but there’s no mistaking the fond kernel of warmth he feels. Part of him wants to puff up with pride because he makes great beignets (and other things, too).
“So,” he says after a while, one arm wrapped around his brother (Dick complained about the cold). “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Dick says, looking confused. “Why would you say that?”
Jason eyes the mussed hair, red-rimmed eyes, and the rumpled state of Dick’s clothes. “I don’t know,” Jason replies, refocusing on the trashy TV show playing on his screen. “Just wanted to make sure, I guess.”
“Oh,” Dick says, and his voice sounds all gooey—the way it gets whenever he thinks any of his siblings did something cute (and sadly, this includes Jason). “You’re so sweet, Jay.”
“Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” Jason grumbles, cheeks growing warm. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
★★
“Little Wing!”
Jason turns in time to catch his jubilant big brother (although he does stumble back a few steps). He instinctively wraps his arms around Dick when Dick hugs him tightly, glancing over the man’s shoulder to see Batman standing there, the barest hint of a smile on his face.
“Hi, ‘Wing,” Jason says after a beat, slowly pushing Dick away. Dick grins brightly at him and smacks the side of Jason’s helmet (and probably places a sticker there, which is a game between Dick and Tim) before darting back to Bruce’s side. “What’s with the greeting?”
“I can’t be happy to see you?” Dick argues, crossing his arms. “I missed my little brother!”
“We saw each other last week,” Jason deadpans. “Also, I’m taller than you. There’s nothing little about me.” He pauses, glad his helmet hides the grin slowly stretching across his face. “You could even ask Roy. He’ll confirm it.”
Dick immediately looks disgusted. “Gross!” he exclaims, sticking out his tongue. “I don’t want to hear about my brother and my ex!”
Bruce turns toward Dick, frowning. “You two dated?” he says, sounding confused.
“Bruce, come on. I told you when it happened…”
Jason cuts in before the conversation can continue. “Bruce’s listening skills aside,” he says, placing his hands on his hips. “Can I help you two with something? And can I start by kicking you out of my territory?”
“We’re not in your territory,” Dick says, pointing to the taller building next to them. “We’re next to it! There’s a big difference!”
“Whatever,” Jason dismisses and glances at Bruce.
Bruce clears his throat and steps forward. “We were investigating a crime scene in one of the offices in this building,” he says, gesturing to the roof beneath them. “I mentioned seeing you on the way in, and Nightwing wanted to say… hi.” He pauses and stiltedly adds, “We were just about to finish our investigation at the coroner’s office nearby. You’re welcome to join us.”
Jason sucks air in through his teeth, scraping his heel across the ground.
Well, he planned on ending the night early to go back to his apartment and read, maybe even get started on the chili he wanted to make, but he could also do it all during the day…
“Sure, why not?” Jason says, shrugging. “Might as well, right? What with this being so close to my area.”
Bruce grunts and takes out his grapple gun, and Jason follows, eyeing the building beside them. The wind might make it difficult, but he thinks he can make it before Bruce if he kicks the man and fires first.
He glances at Dick, frowning when he sees the other man just standing there, fiddling with his gloves and not pulling out one of his Escrima Sticks. Dick finally lifts his head after a while. He opens and shuts his mouth, shifting his weight, before quietly saying, “I can’t jump.”
“Huh?” Jason says stupidly.
Dick shrugs. “Something’s going on with me,” he says, rubbing his arm. “I’ve been afraid of heights. I keep freezing, panicking, and I really don’t know why.”
“When did it start?” Bruce asks. His voice sounds rougher than normal, which means he’s worried. Jason sort of hates how he can still identify Bruce’s emotion by tone (and grunts).
“A few weeks ago,” Dick says, peering over the edge of the roof. Jason watches, surprised, as Dick turns paler than before, holding a hand up to his mouth. “Ugh… I can’t even grapple down to the ground! It makes me nauseous just thinking about it.” He waves a hand, looking so downtrodden that Jason starts to feel bad. “You guys can still swing if you want. I’ll catch up.”
“We can take the stairs,” Bruce states, glancing at Jason.
“Yeah, sure,” Jason says after a beat, putting his grapple gun away. “Stairs are cool.”
“Really?” Dick beams at them, and even though Jason has his helmet on, he obscures his vision with a hand, still unused to the brightness of Dick’s joy. “Thanks, guys! You’re the best!”
Jason exchanges a look with Bruce, glad to see the same concern he feels reflected on the other man’s face.
★★
Later, when they’re in the Cave, Jason sits by the Batcomputer, watching as Bruce beckons Dick closer. He looks serious, which doesn’t bode well for whatever he’s going to say.
“I believe we need to bench Nightwing,” Bruce says once Dick leans against the desk. He’s speaking slowly, carefully, fingers steepled in front of him. “With your inability to… jump, it might be too dangerous for you to go out there. Someone could get hurt. You could get hurt. And Nightwing can’t stay grounded the entire time during patrol.”
Jason glances at Dick, a little taken aback to see his blank expression.
“Dick?” Bruce asks, sounding hesitant. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
And suddenly, Dick’s face twists into something dark and angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits. “I can do my job just fine! I was doing it before I even told you about this new development! And you’re not even my dad! You don’t control me!” He turns, and Jason jumps when Dick knocks the pile of files by the Batcomputer to the floor, the keyboard and mouse following. “You’re such a… a…” Dick whirls back toward Bruce, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You’re a cheesehead!” he screams and storms off toward the showers.
Jason doesn’t move, not until he hears the water turn on, Dick’s angry muttering soon becoming muffled. He places a hand over his fast-beating heart and glances at Bruce, who stares at all the crap on the floor, expression bewildered.
“What the fuck,” Bruce whispers, which would normally make Jason laugh, but he can’t even muster up the humor, too mystified and fearful of Dick’s extreme reaction.
“What did you do?” he asks. “I’ve never seen him that pissed off.”
“Nothing,” Bruce answers, frowning. “I think.”
“Jesus,” Jason says, rubbing a hand down his face. “It’s like I’m 14 all over again.”
“We weren’t that bad back then.”
“True,” Jason acknowledges, recalling all the fights between Dick and Bruce. “Usually, you’re at fault for upsetting him, and even though I don’t want to give you any credit or defense, I can genuinely say you did nothing wrong this time.”
“Really?” Bruce sounds surprised.
“Yes.” Jason leans back in his seat, slowly spinning it around. “Maybe you could have worded it differently, but you were concerned, rightfully so, and if Dick wasn’t so upset, he’d definitely understand where you’re coming from. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t bench himself the moment he found out he couldn’t stand heights.”
“Me too,” Bruce murmurs, a calculating glint in his eyes. “Which means the issue runs deeper than this.” He meets Jason’s gaze, mouth set in a thin line. “We need to investigate this further.”
Jason sighs. “I don’t want to stalk my brother,” he says, scowling. “I get enough of him already when he comes to my apartment to eat my food.”
“He knows where you live?”
“Yeah, he followed me home one night when I got shot,” Jason says, completely ignoring the alarmed look on Bruce’s face. “Anyways, is it only observation, or are we going to test any theories? Because I’ve already got one.”
“Do you?”
“He’s a clone,” Jason says, spinning faster. “Those Titans friends of his probably took the real Dick away from us, and now we’ve got a replacement made in a test tube. Hell, they probably did it so Dick could elope with his speedster idiot.” Damn, if it’s true, then he should have shot the guy when he had the chance.
“Elope?” Bruce says carefully.
Jason squints at him. “You know Dick is dating West, right?” he says. “I’m pretty sure you were here when Dick announced his relationship to everyone in the Cave.”
“Was I concussed?”
“When aren’t you concussed?” Jason counters, glad when Bruce grunts in agreement. “Well, Dick is dating him, and he seems pretty happy, so I can’t even be mad. What I can do is picture all the ways I can torture the guy if he breaks Dickie’s heart.” He stops spinning and leans forward. “Hey, can speedsters heal from decapitation?”
“I’ve never tested the theory,” Bruce says. “But if that happens, please don’t do it.”
“Why? Don’t want me to kill again?”
“I never want you to kill,” Bruce says, sounding so genuine that it makes Jason want to barf. “I mostly don’t want to deal with Barry complaining about losing Wally. It’s enough that I have to sit through his speed-rambles.”
“Oh.” Jason thinks. “How about maiming?”
“Maiming is fine,” Bruce replies. “In fact, I have a freeze ray you can borrow if they ever break up. As long as you don’t tell me when or where you do it, I have free reign to act oblivious when the Justice League starts questioning me about your actions.”
“Sweet.”
“Back to the matter at hand,” Bruce says, leaning down to pick up some papers. Jason could help him, but he doesn’t really want to, so he goes back to spinning in his chair. “We need to figure out what’s wrong with Dick. Maybe then, we can find the solution to his sudden fear of heights.”
★★
(Later, Dick throws himself at Bruce, hair still damp against the back of his neck, and blurts out a litany of apologies. It sounds like he’s close to tears, and Dick only calms when Bruce returns the embrace.
Another weird thing to note because Dick rarely, if ever, apologizes to Bruce for the things he said, especially since the other man never does the same in return, and he certainly wouldn’t apologize for calling Bruce a cheesehead.
Hell, Jason is probably going to start calling him that from now on just because it’s fucking funny.
But that’s something to think about in the future. Right now, there’s a mystery to solve.)
★★
Jason decides to go straight to the source.
Unfortunately, it provides no substantial evidence since Dick doesn’t seem to realize there might be something wrong with him.
“I mean, sure, I’ve been crying a lot more lately,” Dick says as he does his pelvic floor exercises, pausing with his hips tilted upward. “And yeah, I’ve also been extremely bloated, but it’s normal enough that I’m not worried about it, you know?”
“No,” Jason says flatly. “I don’t know. This all sounds worrying.”
“Lucky you,” Dick grumbles, lowering his body to the ground. He stretches out his limbs, star-fished across the training mat, and says, “Hey, will you ask Alfred to make me some of those cucumber sandwiches?”
“What?” Jason frowns. “You hate those.”
“I know! But I feel like having one, suddenly,” Dick says, drumming his fingers across the mat. “Oh, and with coconut milk! That sounds amazing!”
“You hate coconut, too,” Jason says warily.
“I do?” Dick pauses, brows knit together. “Oh, you’re right. I do hate coconuts, even coconut milk, but right now, my mouth is watering at the thought.” He hums and rolls over, pushing himself to his feet. “Actually, I’ll go tell him myself! Maybe I can find a snack while I wait for my sandwich!”
He departs before Jason can say a word, and Jason watches him go, genuinely confused.
Jason’s still standing there when Bruce peeks into the room. He stares at the man for a very long time before pushing past him, deciding that a nap is needed to make sense of whatever’s going on with Dick.
★★
Even with Nightwing benched, he still spends most of his time in the Cave.
Damian, who returned from his month-long visit to the Kent farm, monopolizes his attention, demanding to be trained. He mostly sits on the mats to show Dick all the photos he took of the animals. Jason thinks it’s cute, but he’ll never admit it out loud, not while Damian’s still feral and unhinged.
After two hours, Damian starts his stretches, and Dick looks around the Cave, frowning.
“Where’s Tim?”
Jason glances at him, concerned. “Dick,” he says carefully. “Tim went on a mission with his friends, remember?”
“Huh?” Dick looks so confused.
“He said he was going to be gone for a while,” Jason explains, stepping closer to his brother. He places a hand on Dick’s arm, waiting for the other man to look at him before saying quietly, “Tim told you directly, Dick. Don’t you remember? It was last week.”
“Todd is right,” Damian says, though he seems disgruntled over agreeing with Jason. “After telling you, Drake told Father the same thing, and when Father barely acknowledged him, Drake proceeded to wrestle Father away from the Batcomputer, tranquilize him, and drag him up to the manor. It was…” He grimaces. “Impressive.” Damian then peers at Dick, looking concerned. “Are you alright, Richard?”
“I’m fine?” Dick furrows his brows. “I’m just surprised I forgot about Tim’s mission. How could I forget?” And suddenly, he starts tearing up. “Especially when I miss him so much!”
He buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, and Jason glances down at Damian, who looks back at him with an expression of equal confusion—maybe a bit of discomfort, too, which makes sense since the kid takes after Bruce in more ways than one.
I got this, Jason mouths to Damian, and Damian nods, rushing over to the Batcomputer with a speed that could rival the Flash.
“Hey, it’s okay, Dickiebird,” Jason tries to soothe, nearly tipping over when Dick lunges forward to clutch him tightly, face buried in Jason’s shoulder. “It’s okay. And I’m sure Tim’s okay, too.” He chuckles, patting Dick’s back a few times. “He’ll probably be flattered you miss him so much.”
“Who are we missing?”
Jason and Dick shriek.
Between one blink and the next, Dick somehow jumps into Jason’s arms, face pale and eyes wide. Jason has the same reaction, gaze fixed on the newest arrival to the Cave—a certain Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, who regards them with an arched brow before walking over to the wall of training weapons, plucking a wooden bo-staff off the rack.
“Oh my god!” Jason says, dumping Dick onto the floor. Being the show-off he is, Dick simply tucks and rolls before springing up, arms raised above his head. “Stop doing that, you little freak!”
“It’s not my fault your spatial awareness is so bad,” Tim replies, spinning the staff in his hands. “Anyways, do you mind? I want to get some training in before dinner.”
“I feel like you got enough training on your mission,” Jason points out. “Also, you’re home early.”
“Mission… Vacation…” Tim raises a hand, doing a so-so motion. “The line between them is so very thin, isn’t it?”
“TIM!” Dick suddenly shouts, bouncing beside Jason.
Tim sighs. His staff clatters to the ground when he releases it, and he slowly spreads his arms, fingers twitching. Dick then launches himself at Tim, picking him up and spinning in one smooth motion. Tim immediately locks his arms and legs around Dick, head tucked against Dick’s shoulder, looking quite comfortable in the embrace.
Jason tries to sneak past them, ready to leave them to their hug, but a hand grabs the back of his shirt tightly and yanks him into it. Soon, he finds himself squished against Tim in an octopus embrace, listening to Dick hum happily.
And yes, when they finally extract themselves to go upstairs for dinner at Alfred’s behest, Jason totally throws Damian into Dick’s path to free himself and Tim from Dick’s over-affectionate affection.
As much as he enjoys it, Dick is getting more and more cuddlier with each visit, and it only adds to the problem at hand.
Maybe with Tim around, they’ll be able to figure out what’s going on with Dick.
★★
Somehow, it doesn’t take long.
Tim stares at Dick from across the table with that piercing gaze of his, the kind that would sometimes make Jason feel like the kid was looking into his soul. It’s creepy as fuck, but Dick doesn’t seem to mind, judging by his happy smile.
(The only reason Jason manages to catch all of this is because he’s sitting beside Dick, pretending not to notice the other man sneaking food off his plate.)
“Dick,” Tim says slowly. “Are you…” He stops, looking around with a frown.
“Am I what?” Dick asks as he starts eating from his fourth plate of food with no signs of stopping or tiring. “Am I happy you’re home? Definitely!”
“No, uh…” Tim sits up straighter. “Are you pregnant?”
Four things happen.
One, Bruce suddenly starts choking on his food, and it goes on long enough that he starts to turn red, then purple, causing Alfred to use the Heimlich maneuver to get the piece likely lodged in his throat out of him.
Next, Damian’s eyes go wide as he stares at Dick, right before they roll up into his head. He falls out of his seat and onto the floor with a loud thump, causing the table to shake.
Third, Jason, who had taken a swig of soda, chokes, and coughs when it suddenly shoots out of his nose, spraying all over his shirt and food. He covers his face with a napkin, eyes burning over the carbonation, staring at Tim in shock.
“What!?” he exclaims, in a voice pitched so high, it makes Titus lift his head from where he’s lying on the floor.
And lastly, Dick sneezes.
Normally, this wouldn’t need mentioning, but his sneeze causes blue lightning to appear over his body, nearly shocking Jason thanks to their proximity, and then Dick’s on the other side of the room, eyes glowing a faint cyan.
“Huh?” Dick mutters and sneezes again.
This time, he ends up back at the table, the silverware and plates clattering as the whole thing jerks to the side. Dick clutches the tablecloth, gasping, and sneezes five times in succession, each one causing the wind to blow past them and displacing Dick from his previous spot.
“Oh,” Dick says faintly as he stands in the doorway to the dining room, clutching the tablecloth in his hands, splatters of food all over his body. He looks… unbalanced, wobbling in place. The fabric falls from Dick’s fingers, and he rests a hand on his stomach, brows furrowed. “Guys,” he says. “I think I’m pregnant.”
★★
“How’d you know Dick has a bun in the oven?” Jason asks curiously, leaning over to grab another handful of chips from the bowl in Tim’s lap.
“Well, during the mission with my friends, we crossed paths with Barry… and Iris! Apparently, she gained some powers thanks to her babies. She was willing to talk about her experience, and it was very easy to see that she gained a speedster’s appetite to go along with it. When I got home and saw Dick eat through, well, a lot of Alfred’s food, the pieces kinda fell together.”
Jason squints at him. “Really?” he says dubiously. “That’s all it took?”
“I also looked through your phone and saw the notes you were keeping on Dick,” Tim replies. Little creep, he’s lucky Jason loves him. “The coconut milk was another piece. He hates coconut. Also, the crying. Dick doesn’t cry in front of anyone, not if he can help it.” He pauses. “The crying and bloating isn’t new, by the way. That’s a monthly thing for us.”
“Oh.” Jason nudges him. “Good job, boy detective,” he says begrudgingly. “I never would have thought that.”
“I know,” Tim says, tossing a few more chips into his mouth.
Blue lightning suddenly dances across the air, and Jason watches as the armchair beside them skids across the floor and bounces off the wall, leaving a dent. A rattled Dick Grayson sits against the cushions, eyes wide and hair windswept.
“Oops,” Dick says, glancing at them. He brightens and leans forward, bouncing one knee. “I think I figured out when these powers kick in! So, every time I felt a little flutter in my stomach, I was suddenly in a new place! I think that’s the baby moving! Isn’t it amazing?”
Before Jason can say a word, Dick disappears from the chair, zipping out of the door and probably disappearing into the untouched parts of the manor. He shuts his mouth with a click and sighs, staring at his shoes. Jason only lifts his head when Bruce stumbles into the room, looking frazzled.
“Have you seen Dick?” he asks.
Tim crunches on a few chips. “Just missed him,” he says, crumbs falling from his mouth.
Gross.
“He was in and out like the Roadrunner,” Jason says, snorting before he adds, “That should be his speedster name. It’s bird-adjacent, so it’ll work.” He pauses and glances at Bruce. “Hey, maybe that’s why he couldn’t leap anymore. The baby probably didn’t like it too much.”
Bruce grunts in agreement.
Jason watches as Bruce sinks into the armchair recently vacated, pinching the bridge of his nose. He grabs a chip from Tim and tosses it to Bruce. It manages to land on his head, but Bruce either doesn’t notice or care because he doesn’t try to remove it.
“Is it too late to take you up on your suggestion?” Bruce asks, staring directly at Jason.
“Hey, I’m willing, but you’ll have to explain to Dick why his boyfriend is suddenly missing a few limbs,” Jason replies, holding up both hands. “And I’ll leave you to the mercy of his tears. I got enough of them this month.”
“Hm.”
“Where’s Damian?”
“In his room. Resting. With a cold pack on his forehead. He has a mild fever.”
“Huh. Guess the kid can’t handle the idea of a niece or nephew.” Jason leans forward, keeping his eyes fixed on Bruce. “So,” he says. “How do you feel about becoming a grandfather?”
And he smirks when the blood drains from Bruce’s face. Jason resists the urge to cackle the way he did when he saw Batman trip over his cape and fall off a roof, and he barely manages to allow a brief chuckle to slip out. He leans back against the cushions, satisfied.
Tim suddenly sneezes and flies up five feet into the air, causing the chips to scatter.
Jason stares as his little brother slowly floats down, sniffling a few times before wiping his nose with the back of his hand. A chip lands on Jason’s lap, and he looks down at it, memorizing its shape before looking back at Tim, who continues eating without a care in the world.
“Huh,” Jason says, mentally planning to load his gun with Kryptonite bullets the next time Tim’s little friend rolls into town.
He glances at Bruce. The look on his face tells Jason he’s most likely willing to look the other way for this one, too.