Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Superman. I would like to see you. Please." 

Clark didn't want to come. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't always come when called. Usually he would come if there were at least several other voices or if there was also the sound of an earthquake or mudslide or something to that effect. If he came every time someone called his name, he wouldn't be able to have his job. The regular one. 

However, Lex Luthor had been missing for several months now, and the fact that he said 'Superman' and 'please' in the same sentence... 

Well. Curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction brought it back. 

Luthor was on the rooftop of his company, merely staring out into the early morning, the sun not even peaking over the horizon. Clark kept silent, just floating off to the left of the man. He looked...well, he didn't look like a man that had been on vacation, with the gingery stubble on his face, the pallor of his skin, and his flannel and jeans ensemble. 

Clark didn't know Lex still had flannel. 

"Luthor." He had to stay civil- a quick glance with the x-ray vision showed nothing too out of the ordinary, but still it was a mystery why Luthor was acting so out of character. Just in case, he still hovered in the air, hesitant to fully land (and maybe Luthor had created Kryptonite flannel that reacted when he hugged Superman- or maybe Batman's paranoia was rubbing off on him.) 

He still tensed when Luthor walked straight up to him, prepared for a swipe, a fight, something. Instead. Instead. 

Lex just leaned against him, his forehead resting on the 'S.'

And started to weep. 

Clark immediately understood what Kon meant about "astral projecting to escape reality" because what. 

It was quick. Before he could even comprehend, Luthor was walking back to the doorway, eyes clear, pointedly ignoring the man. The door closed behind him with a quiet 'click', leaving Clark feeling gobsmacked, trying to remember to breathe, and tears still drying on his 'S.' 

Dawn broke, the sky becoming the pink-golden hue, the promise of a beautiful day. 

He floated back home. 

Kon's head peeked out the entry way into the Titans lab. "Hey Tim? Why did Clark just call me, saying Luthor cried on him?" 

Tim just smiled. 

Chapter Text

"Hey, does anyone know why Batman is tied up in the meeting room?"

Everyone winced. It was a regular Tuesday at the Justice League Watchtower, and so it was somewhat busy. Oliver patiently waited for anyone to say something. Jesus he didn't think he asked a hard question.

"He's waiting." Even through the mask, it was obvious that Green Arrow was unimpressed by the Flash's answer. "Waiting, why?" He demanded. Oliver knew Batman- Bruce- can be a Grade-A asshole, and maybe it was some sort of mind control issue or multiverse or such, but- it was the meeting room. Not the med Bay or containment rooms (cells, his mind supplied, no matter how you look at it, they're cells) but the meeting room. Where they have meetings.

"He's going to see Dinah." Oh. Contrary to what Batman thought, he did have a brain, and he could figure out where this was heading.

"Was it Clark or Diana that finally made him?"

"Me, of course." He was proud when all he did was turn, instead of startling because Wonder Woman creeped up behind him, jesus fuck was she learning from Batman, but given her bemused reaction, he still reacted. Which. Well, mildly embarrassing, but she wasn't going to get judgmental about it, unlike some people.

"Really, Oliver, you think that Kal-el would've schedule this?" Her smile was light as she raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"I mean, if Batman pushed him in that direction." Batman had that ability, like a superpower, to push people to do crazy things.

"Don't worry, Green Arrow, everything is under control." And that was definitely her Warrior Wonder Woman voice, the one that made hearts stutter, fear form, villains cower in fear. That was the tone of someone who wasn't going to let the apocalypse happen.

That was the tone of warning, for him to not get fucking involved.

So he didn't. He smiled, nodded his head, and like everybody else, ignored the fact that a half-hour later, Wonder Woman was dragging a reluctant Batman, a batarang making claw marks on the walls as they headed down to Dinah's office. All in all, it was a usual Tuesday.

Chapter Text

"What the hell is he wearing?"

"Undercover gig," Jason grunted, arms crossed as he kept his eyes trained on Tim. 

"He needs access to the Iceberg Lounge-" Barragan kept tapping on a tablet. "-And anyone who wants to be the entertainment of Iceberg has to go through auditions. No questions."

Damian has questions. Damian has a lot of questions. Such as why is the audition happening in the Manor, when did Bunker befriend Jason Todd, when did Bunker get employed by Todd, why can't Jason just let Tim into the Iceberg since he owns it, he's the damn owner, what kind of mission involves the Iceberg Lounge, and if Batman has been informed in this endeavor. Or if Batman even approved of this. Why Tim is looking like that.

What comes out of his mouth isn't words and is rather mildly horribly embarrassing.

Because they are currently in the ballroom, the only furniture is the couch that Damian is currently standing behind, a couch that had Barragan and Todd watching Tim stretch for something, a speaker with a familiar red phone nearby, with several sticks that have a white block on the end at Red Robin's feet. Tim is currently wearing dark red diaphronus pants that dip low on his hips, and what looks to be a piece of thin silk draped over his torso in some parody of a shirt. Tim looks like one of those horrible stereotypes, the ones that people call "Arabian Nights" or some other drivel. Tim has also completely covered his scars so it's just planes of smooth skin barely being covered by scraps of fabric, fabric that is mostly sheer fabric. 

He's also of completely different coloring- he's tan, a nice hue that matches Barragan's coloring, instead of the pale, almost glowing way he usually looks. His hair is a shade of brown, and his normally blazing blue eyes are a plain shade of brown. Honestly, Damian thought it was some stranger that Todd had brought back, but Damian knows that line of jaw, the place where the nose healed crooked, the shape of those lips, and those damnable legs. He should know- those legs were the forefront of his early puberty dreams. Damian stares at those legs, ok? Damian has pictures of those legs. And those legs are currently being covered in the most mocking of costumes that's pretty much non-existent and he's having a mini crisis because of it. 

He's curious about how Tim managed to look like a completely different race, and if this is considered offensive. 

"Alien Technology," Tim said in lieu of a greeting. He kept warming up, stretching his body into limberness. Damian tries to shove his -interest- back in its little box. "It's- well it looks like a retainer, and you put it in, and causing a hologram of sorts that can change skin, hair and eyes." He did something in his mouth, and his skin went to very dark to corpse pale before settling back into the tone it was before. It was unsettling, to say the least. Somewhat attractive, but unsettling. 

And then music starts playing, something with a beat and sounding vaguely electronic. 

"Fire dancing" a corner of his mind supplied, very helpfully. He ignores it because Tim is dancing with the sticks, sticks that are on fire, twirling and throwing them up in the air as he undulates his body and he looks like a human phoenix and Damian is dying. He is dying and there's no way even a Lazarus Pit can revive him. 

Damian is both praising and cursing the fact that he's wearing his jock from sparring with Cass earlier. He's grateful that he's still standing behind the couch, that he's not in Todd's or Bunker's view because Tim and fire equal Damian trying to remember to breathe. 

"Impressive," is the only word that comes out of Jason's mouth after Tim is standing again, still, a sheen of sweat covering his body. It's said with grudging respect. "You can have a half hour to set up before Lounge opens, for prep."

"We can talk when you need to be onstage, you know," Barragan smiled. "Set list, call times- stuff like that." 

Tim just snorted, raising an eyebrow as he gathered the things. "If you're that impressed with just the sticks, you should see me with a dragon staff." 

"Is that a euphemism, Drake?" 

Tim stopped gathering his things, giving him a look. He also saw out of his periphery, Barragan's look of confusion and Todd's incredulous stare but right now, he was focused on how those plain brown eyes were focused on his face, and maintaining the stare back. He was Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, he didn't back down from looks. "Well, Drake?"

"Cute." A flicker of a smile. "But it's actually a staff with two fire wheels attached at the ends- and if you want a real show, well." Tim started walking out, making a stop behind the couch as he gave Damian a smile that was filled with promise.  "Damn shame that you won't be able to see, Wayne." And with that, Tim left, his hips swaying as he swaggered out. 

As the youth would say, Damian hated seeing him leave, but loved watching Tim go. 

"You're not going." He met Todd's eyes. "And if you even try and say you're "patrolling" in the damn vicinity of my territory, I will pop a cap in your ass." 

"Tt." Whatever. He could probably hack into the cameras at a later date to watch and save the performance. 

Jason sighed as Damian turned and followed Drake out, feeling exhausted. It was impressive what the Replacement could do with fire (it was even more impressive what he could do with several sticks of ANFO, some C4, and a can-do attitude) but he didn't need the damn fuckery of what was going on between those two. He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that he'll have to tell Dick so that the fucking Demon Wonder didn't try and do something rash like patrol his turf during the mission just to catch a glimpse from a window or some shit like that. He knew it was a bad idea to do this at the Manor but, to be fair, he also didn't realize that Tim knew how to fucking fire dance and apparently all of them were little pyros at heart.

"Hey Jase?" He looked over to where Miguel was apparently having a small internal crisis. "You wanna explain what the hell was all that? Since, last time I was aware, Tim didn't flirt with Damian and vice versa? " 

...They should've auditioned at the Lounge. 

Chapter Text

"Huh." 

All of them were at a loss. 

To be fair, they didn't really dig too deep into research, when they did the bonds- more focused on making sure that Ra's would just stop being Creepy Ra's and just go back to Murdery Ra's, and less focused on what they were actually bonding themselves with. Which. Being a group made up of a speedster, a demigoddess, a half-alien clone, and a Bat (which, a majority of the hero community thought, was practically a type of Metahuman) they really should have put more thought into it. 

Luckily, it wasn't blowing up in their faces.

... Invulnerability to bullets was new. 

"Am…" Tim stared at the bullets, lying harmlessly in front of him. The bad guy was already knocked out cold, Kon punching him as they stared at the bullets. Bullets that tried to go through Tim's face. Bullets that bounced off said face, dropping to the ground. "Am I now bulletproof?" His voice sounded as shocked as the rest of them were feeling. 

"I think," Cassie started slowly. "We need to test this out." 

Bart's face was filled with childish wonder. "It is Magical Friendship Bracelets. Guys," he looked at them all. "We are so now My Little Ponies." 

Kon looked at all of them. "I am so calling dibs on Rainbow Dash." 

There were other... changes. 

"Dude." Jamie kept looking at Kon, who stared back in confusion. Bart had just ran off, explaining a theory that Tim had about their newest mission, and Cassie's strategy about it, since someone was stealing high grade chemicals and getting away with it, but- Bart always explained shit and ran off. That's what Bart does. 

Jamie's still looking at him like he grew another head. 

"Yeah?" Because Kon isn't telepathic, Jamie- no matter what bullshit Nightwing says. 

"You just- understood all that?" At Kon's silence, he continued. "Like, Bart was doing his super-speed thing and you just- started doing it back." 

"No? Bart was speaking normally, dude." 

"He really wasn't," Jamie shook his head. "He really, really wasn't." 

Kon just rolled his eyes. “Whatever- dude, you want anything from the kitchen, I’m starving.”

“We literally just had dinner.” 

A bottle was slammed in front of Tim.

“You are going to take this,” Cassie growled. “Whether you like it or not.”

“My mother said to never take candy from strangers.” He raised an eyebrow at the glowering girl. “Actually that’s a lie, it was really Dick.” 

“Look, this is a healing potion- a non-addictive, completely normal, healing potion. Heals broken bones, muscle tears, stab wounds, everything minus regenerating missing organs. Wonder Woman takes these from time to time. And you’re going to take this, because apparently the bonds can share pain, Tim. And we know about the stitches and the ribs and the-”

“Wait, you can feel my pain?” 

Cassie sighed. “At least your physical pain, yes- Kon and I can feel where Bart’s knee is clicky, and you would too, and probably realize it sooner if you actually paid attention to what the fuck your body is saying.” She shoved the bottle closer to him. “Take the damn potion.”

“I don’t need it,” he protested, shoving it away- and he didn’t- he was a Bat, but he was also a human vigilante, so it was normal to always be somewhat in pain always. He got used to it. 

Cassie, apparently, wasn’t going to get used to it. “The potion can be either administered orally or rectally. So either keep your dignity and swallow the damn thing, or I will make you take the fucking potion.”

Tim took the potion and kept his dignity. And Cassie- god bless her- Cassie didn’t breathe a word when it finally hit, when all of a sudden, he got it- he’d been always in some sort of pain, all the time, that when it wasn’t there anymore? It wasn’t curling on the edges of his senses? When he felt like he was given a bit more energy, a sense of freedom?

He didn't cry, but damn, it was close. He didn't realize how much he got used to the haze of pain. How relieved he felt, after. 

Cassie just nodded her head. Smiling gently as she walked out the door. 

The bonds definitely did things. 

Kon and Bart got a little more calmer. Tim and Cassie relaxed a bit more. Tim started actually admitting when he was injured (he couldn't hide it anymore, anyways), and Bart actually started taking his time, which was a shock. 

Bart got a little stronger. Cassie and Kon got a little faster. Tim got both, plus the new invulnerable to bullets (but not stab wounds, fire, fists, tasers…) although perhaps it had to do with the fact that he wasn't always constantly in a low-level of pain every single moment of his life. Kon definitely noticed getting drunk quicker. Cassie noticed some nausea when she was in the lab with green Kryptonite out (Tim and Bart said that they didn't get nauseous, but definitely felt off.) All of them suddenly had to get on a regular eating schedule because seriously, speedster's metabolism wasn't a joke. It terrified everyone around them when, if they go out to eat together, how much they could inhale. Buffets were amazing. 

"I'm horrified." Gar kept looking at the pile, a pile, of egg rolls, that Tim had precariously balanced next to other literal piles of food, barely even chewing as he opened his mouth and swallowed, like some sort of Eldritch monster. He could see the store owners watching with suspicion and fear, mentally sighing. They were probably going to get kicked out again. 

Kon said nothing, shoving an inhuman amount of lol mein into his face. 

"I actually went down a size," Cassie said, as she inhaled the damn beef and broccoli. She pointedly ignored Cissie's glare. "Also, Bart, can you grab-" there was another plate of orange chicken between them. "Thanks." Bart just nodded his head, already digging into his own plate pile. 

"I think," Raven said, pushing back her own plate, a vague green tinge on her face. "That I am full for the rest of the century." 

Gar had to agree. 

"This," Kon grinned wide and bright, "Is the best thing ever." 

Dick had to disagree. The Bat-Loom™ was a Bat thing. It was supposed to be one of the very, very, few things that were a Bat Thing™. 

Except now, apparently Superboy, Impulse, and Wonder Girl could do the Bat Look™. And the Bat Sneak™. They could do it to other Bats and that just wasn't right. 

They startled Cass. No one startled Cass. 

"Impregnable again," Kon said, grinning as she glowered from her seat on the plane. 

"This is amazing," Bart said, watching the myriad of micro-expressions flit across Batman's face (and commenting about every single one.) 

"No, it's not," Jason grunted, scowling harder when Wonder Girl just appeared to the side of him, Jesus Christ.

"Actually, it's Wonder Girl." She looked at him, grinning. "I can tell that you're giving your "I'm startled but I'm not going to show it" glare." 

"I swear, I will pop a cap in all of your-"

"Bulletproof." And it was terrifying how all of them said it at the same time, with the same inflection, tone, everything. 

If it wasn't for the fact that they had teamed up to figure out where the fuck did Tim get kidnapped off to with Damian chasing right after, then none of them would be on this plane, listening to three metahumans talk about how Not-Scary the Bats were anymore. And they would've gone on their own, but apparently the magical bonds were basically their own Tim-GPS.

It also didn't help that Wonder Girl and Superboy kept flirting with Impulse, and he was flirting back. 

Magic, Dick thought, wincing as Cassie started to also comment on Bruce's expressions, really sucked. 

Chapter Text

"Thanks."

Jason grunted, scanning the distance from the rooftop. Quiet night, a rarity, but honestly, after his past few weeks, Jason wasn't complaining.  "Don't mention it," Red Robin said, and he heard the vigilante settle beside him, the familiar smell of tacos coming through his visor. A quick glance showed a plastic takeout box, opened to three, beautiful tacos obviously from-

"The truck on 21st. That's your favorite, right?" 

"You know what, I'm not even mad that you know," Jason commented, removing his helmet, leaving the domino. Mostly since he refused to have taco smell in that thing- took forever to get out and just made him hungry, which started a vicious cycle of hangry. 

Tim hummed, opening up his own box and for a moment, the sounds of Gotham and eating were heard. 

"How's the case?" He was somewhat curious if there was actually a lead or if maybe Tim just wanted to dance with flames and made Damian regret having hormones. Honestly, it could go either way for sure. 

He saw Red Robin shrug. "Good- almost done. Unfortunately, there's a waiting period." He almost laughed at the dark tone of Tim's waiting period. Jesus, the guy is a workaholic. But Jason nodded, and when he heard Tim hum, he didn't offer up any information, and Tim didn't pry. They knew when to ask each other, when to not. So far, everything was going alright- there was the Lounge to take care of, business deals to work for, maybe an odd case or two, but- really, nothing he couldn't handle. 

Well, there was one thing he needed help handling. 

And there was no time like the present.

"So. Little Red- wanna tell me what's going on with a certain little bat?" 

Silence. He finally looked over to see Red Robin looking attentive at the traffic down below. 

"My god, someone painted their Corvette pumpkin orange."

"Red." 

"That's just a crime." 

"Red Robin." 

"No, seriously, with that vintage? It's a crime against good autos everywhere." 

"Are you stringing him along?" 

"No." The whiteouts were down, but he could still feel that stare, the way those eyes would be looking. "Absolutely not." 

Jason hummed. “N is kind of freaking the fuck out about this.” N was currently guilting himself about this, saying that he “should have been a better big brother” and debating if he could force Damian into therapy (that ship sailed the fuck off a long time ago, Dick. That should have been the first choice when the damn brat came into the picture and tried to emulate Caesare Borgia. He knew what would happen if Dick tried to get the Demon into therapy, right now, for this: Nothing Good.) Jason, was doing his best to ignore it, because honestly? Wasn’t skin off his bones, wasn’t his damn circus. If B wasn’t going to do jackshit abou this, then like fuck was Jason going to do something about this. 

But. Maybe he had- not a soft spot- but a "less hard" spot for both of them. Red Robin was usually one of the few Bats that (surprisingly) didn't always start a headache (looking at you, Dick) and, yeah, he definitely didn't support any of this (even if he kind of got it...logic took precedence.) 

Red Robin gave a huff of annoyance. "N is always freaking out about something. He'll be fine. I'm not stringing anyone along, Jason." There was a beat, a breath of silence before: "I would never do that to a Bat." 

He sighed. "Then what are you doing?" Because it looked like Tim was stringing Damian along. Looked like he was stringing the Mini-Demon along like damn christmas lights on a tree. Except the Brat actually did have shame and too much pride, so it couldn't be that. And Tim was an asshole but- he wasn’t that type of asshole. He was a Gotham Asshole- sharp and ready to sneer and snarl at tourists and took a joke too intensely, but never too far, and always ready for a fight. 

"Testing." That wasn't an answer he expected. 

"Testing?" 

"Testing." The wind whipped Red Robin's cape back. "...I mean, you can't just expect me, to automatically believe in just words. Especially from him. I'm- I'm not that way anymore, Hood. So. Testing."  

And. Fuck - it made sense. Tim was a master at deception, at lying, and time and time again, was shown that it wasn't words, but actions that were worth their weight in gold. (How many times did he get betrayed, been hurt.) Sure, Damian said he was in love, but he didn't exactly show it. And it was beaten deep inside of them, beaten into them as Robins, that you look for the proof, the evidence. The physical, corporeal evidence. 

But maybe Damian already knew that. He should- he was a Robin, once, just like them- sometimes he still was a Robin, though at nineteen he was definitely feeling the chafe of Robin,  and chances are there was going to be another Bird or Bat-type vigilante soon, but that was another tangent: Damian knew the value of physical, tangible evidence that could back up words. Even if he spent his formative years being trained as a weapon, with only ancient texts...

...oh fuck Him. 

"Are you a fucking damsel?" He groaned. "What is this, the Ten Labours? What, going to make him obtain Hippolyta's girdle?” A part of Jason wanted to see that. Another part knew that Gotham would be reduced to rubble if Damian tried that.  

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Tim said, but the tone was too damn satisfied. Red Robin got up in a fluid movement, stretching out his arms. “Besides, I always preferred Penelope over Eurystheus."

“...Like hell you’re fucking Penelope, this isn't a Penelope situation, you fuckwit!” he shouted as Red Robin launched back into the sky, cackling as he grappled away. It wasn't. It was definitely more of a Heracles than a Penelope, but hell, maybe even a Rosalind type of ordeal- that he got. He sighed, thinking about those two. Honestly, he couldn’t say he 100% supported them. He would probably never support them, not fully. 

But he could say that he at least accepted them. 

Chapter Text

"So." 

"So."

"Mind telling me why you wanted to come on this little Adventure with little old me?" 

"I wouldn't say you're little, Hood." 

"Figure of speech, Blondie."

"I mean, on the glitter scale of man, you're definitely a hunk. Not a twunk, like Dick, or how technically Bruce is a silver fox, although maybe bear is more apt-"

"Never speak those words to me ever again."

"What? About Br-"

"Yes."

"..."

"..." 

"So, you've been here before?" 

"Yeah. Back." 

"Back as in…"

"Back. Before I came back." 

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"..."

"Blondie."

"Hm?"

"Seriously, why did you come? I didn't think sneaking into the League is your idea of a fun time-"

"Oh, absolutely not." 

"...then..."

"Okay, so. The couple."

"Seriously? You have got to be fucking-"

"What? I'm not using names-"

"Ok, ok, look. If you're telling me that you just came here because of some weird protective bullshit or-"

"No, no, no. I. No. It's just. You talked to Red Robin, right?" 

"Yeah. And you haven't?"

"No."

"...Huh."

"I talked to Robin, but not Red Robin." 

"Since when you and Robin are so fucking close?" 

"It just happened." 

"Huh."

"Orphan talked to Red."

"Huh." 

"Don't act surprised. I'm not. I mean, I'm still close to Red, but the couple is...well, news to me." 

"Pretty fucking sure it's news to everyone-"

"And."

"And?"

"What's your opinion?"

"I mean it's fucking weird. I can't say that I'm happy about what a fucking trainwreck this turned out to be." 

"Oh thank god. Me too."

"Yeah?"

"Listen, finding out that the guy who you consider a sort-of little brother has the hots for your ex boyfriend, and the fact that your ex may be into that, also added with the whole, you know-"

"By society's viewpoint, they're related even though Bats pulled a fucking dumbass move and never filled out that paperwork?"

"Yeah, and I know we say "fuck society" but still. It's. Strange. I feel bad, but it's strange. I want to be happy for them? Cause, you know."

"Not really."

"Well. We don't really get happy things. As Bats."

"...Yeah."

"And Robin's...he's smiling. More. He's smiling more, especially when Red Robin's around. And Red Robin looks less like a tense pretzel." 

"Tense Pretzel- that sounds about right. Haven't really seen much of both in Gotham of late, to be fair."

"...I think they're looking to switch cities-"

"Switch-"

"Holy shit! The fuck Hood, you almost killed me."

"Bitch please. The fuck you mean switch?"

"Red Robin's been hanging out at the Tower more often. So's Robin. Not just for missions. Signal's been covering patrol, but it's looking like their districts are going to be split between the rest of us for patrol. Maybe. It's Bats so who the fuck knows."  

"Well, shit."

"Yeah." 

"...How are you doing?"

"Tired, really."

"You're a Bat, BG. When the fuck aren't you tired. Tell me, cause I want a piece of that action."

"Tired. Since I have to deal with this relationship bullshit, on top of them fucking off to San Fran, on top of Finals.  Yeah, you better wince, Hood, I'm so fucking exhausted. I mean, I understand why they've flown, for now. B is better but in some places worse and N isn't helping because he's all like "I don't understand, I don't understand" and Signal is pretty much on board the Couple's train-"

"-Fucking Signal is on-" 

"-And Orphan also gets it, because she's Orphan and O is all like "doesn't affect me" but it affects the family and I just." 

"...Shit, Blondie…"

"I just. I don't know. I'm happy because Robin smiles, like genuinely smiles, and Red gives him these looks and sure they look super dirty-"

"-I don't need to hear that-"

"-But then they get like, soft, and um. How Red used to look at me. Before that year." 

"Oh."

"Yeah. I think- I know it's jealousy. And I probably need to get laid or something but."

"It hurts. To see someone you cared about a lot, happy with someone else. Even if you know you don't have a chance in hell, that it should never happen again, it still hurts."

"...Was it-"

"-Don't worry about that, Batgirl."

"Sorry."

"Hn."

"..."

"...You ever think about leaving Gotham?"

"Sometimes. But... it's hard to move, when you aren't some zillionaire or whatever." 

"Preach it Blondie. Do you know one day the four of them just, accidentally wore the same fucking outfit? Polo shirt and khakis. And Rolodexes. Only Red Robin looked a bit offended." 

"You've worn polo shirts and khakis."

"Not fucking together. And certainly not at the same time as the others. Looked like some sort of cult."

"Cult of the Bat."

"Shit, I think that's an actual cult."

"I wouldn't be surprised…"

"But you haven't answered my original question, BG. Why are you here?"

"...We should hang out more. After. I know this place where you can drink beer and throw axes at things."

"Sounds lethal."

"You're not interested?"

"I'm so interested. It's a plan, BG." 

"Cool. Oh, this is his personal chambers?"

"Yup."

"I'm surprised. I know I shouldn't be, but I am."

"Ra's al Ghul has that effect on people."

"Heh. And to answer your question: Just because I have complicated feelings about Robin and Red Robin, doesn't mean that I have complicated feelings of Ra's trying to force Red Robin into being some man-bride bullshit and giving him all those disturbing items."

"Say no more. You ready to trash this place, Batgirl?" 

"You bet, Red Hood."

Chapter Text

"Superman."

"Yes?" Clark blinked at Batman. They had just finished the weekly meeting, everyone filing out of the room. 

Batman kept staring at him, mouth pressed thin.

Clark tried to think of what could of happened, again. For the most part, those crazy days (what Clark privately called "The Weekend of the Boozy Bat") had settled down and everything, had gone back to a relative normal. Sure, Batman was in therapy, and Kon was in some sort of magical four-way with Red Robin, Wonder Girl, and Impulse, but for the most part, there weren't any traumatizing truths being unveiled or Clark having to deal with Actually Drunk Bruce Wayne. It was quiet. 

Batman kept glaring at him. 

"Yes Batman?" He prayed that this traumatic event didn't have sex toys involved. 

"You have Family Time, correct?" The words were angry, that it took a moment for him to answer Batman. 

"I...yes? We do. It changes due to our schedules?" Since, you know, Lois is a well-sought out reporter and he's Superman. Nothing's really set in stone in their household, more like "if we're not pulled away, totally, yes, but also, rain check." 

"When is your next one?" 

"Why?" He was suspicious. Batman didn't ask about family matters. Bruce might, but Batman never did. Superman had a suspicion. 

"Invite me." 

"...Why?" he asked, drawing it out as Batman glared harder. 

"I'm told that I need to understand family time without a case or threat of apocalypse." He sounded, all intents and purposes, like a teenager. An angry, frustrated teenager, but a teenager nonetheless. 

Clark kept looking at him, considering. Maybe. Lois probably wouldn't mind. 

...Batman did unintentionally, help make Family Night. 

"Are you good with Photoshop?" 

Batman just gave him an unreadable look, but he figured Bruce was blinking at him from behind the cowl. "Yes?" 

Clark smiled. 

"The shading is wrong."

"It's artistic license, Smallville."

"I guess," Clark squinted at the screen. "I think it's venturing into "artistic" than "terrible" territory."

"This is family night." Bruce. Bruce was having and out of body experience. He had finally snapped, taken too many hits to the head, too many strange and horrific chemical bombs. He was not currently in the Lane-Kents home, on Clark's laptop (that had a Batman sticker over the manufacturer's logo) as Clark, Lois, and Jon creating badly drawn genitals. "What is going on?" He blinked owlishly at the Super. The Super who was busy arguing with Lois Lane, Prize-Winning Reporter, Clark's wife, about whether a dick can be shaded neon pink. Jon was busy typing something on another laptop. "Clark, what am I doing here?"

Clark peered over the edge of the laptop. "Not creating a vagina, apparently." 

"Clark." He gaped at the alien. "Clark."

Lois snorted, rolling her eyes as she sketched something on the screen. "Oh come on, Wayne, lighten up- just draw what you think a vagina looks like, add some color, and then move on to the next. The minimum amount is five drawings." 

"Five draw- and you're letting your son do this?" 

"I'm in charge of compiling the drawings," An Excel sheet was thrust in his face. "Cause I can't actually draw them, not yet, Mom and Dad said that helping create a database for organizing would be a good skill set." Jon grinned. "It's actually fun, since I get to make tags up like "Funky Dick" or "Looks like a Squirtle" 

"What is going on," Bruce kept glancing between Lois and Clark. "Why are you doing this?" 

All three of them looked at each other, before shrugging. 

"So Oracle created this virus on Luthor's mainframe," Jon started. 

"You said at minimum five drawings?" Bruce asked, immediately picking up the tablet and digital pen. Because making Luthor miserable was a hobby he could get behind. And, if Oracle created it, then what could Batman really do? 

Lois smiled at Bruce. "See, now you're getting the hang of Family Night."  

The sun was setting in Metropolis. 

Through the panes, the sky was afire, purples, pinks, swirled with the first, golden hues of another day ending, another day done. 

A door creaked open.

"...Yes."

"Sir," a voice whispered, hesitant. "The virus, it, uh…"

"...How many more pictures?" 

"...A lot, sir." 

"Still terrible?"

"...Some of them, um, terrified the employees to quit, sir. Um, HR isn't... happy."

"...Get rid of them. The drawings." 

"On it sir, but it might mean a complete...new... motherboards for the entire system?" 

Luthor didn't move, just kept staring at the dying day. 

"Do what needs to be done." 

"Yes sir," the voice whispered, and the door creaked shut. 

Luthor took another long pull of the scotch bottle, as night fell on Metropolis. 

Chapter Text

"Why are you drinking wine?" 

"It's cranberry juice." Tim took another sip, ignoring Kon's look of bemusement. "It's good for you. Helps stops UTIs."

Kon snorts. "I forget how nonverbal you're in the morning- also, people with penises don't get UTIs?"

"...No, they do. It's an infection, not- it's an infection." Tim kept staring at the super. "Wait, you thought you were immune ?" 

"Well," Kon squirmed, frowning. "I mean- it's not like penis-people can get yeast infections, right? So- it's not that far off."

"Okay, one: I know you're trying to be more inclusive with your vocabulary, I get that, but "penis-people" sounds wrong, so that's a veto on that phrase. And two-" Tim had his mouth open, ready to say that yes, men can get yeast infections, except-

He didn't know. 

"Tim?" Kon watches the other man set his coffee mug carefully down on the table, turning to stare determinedly at him. 

"We need research." 

"And that's how we got here," Kon finishes, smiling at Cassie. 

"And we found out that yes, men can get UTIs and yeast infections," Tim adds calmly. "The more you know."

Cassie pinches the bridge of her nose, breathing deeply before giving both of them looks. "I just asked why the hell are you watching weird porn on the television, in the living room. Where we live. And why the popcorn." They still had clothes on, and honestly, they seemed more entertained and amused than anything else. 

Both men look at each other before looking at her. 

"You know how you can get into a wiki spiral?" 

Cassie just sighs, and walks away. 

Chapter Text

Wally said it once, and he'll say it again: Fucking Bats. 

"Excuse me?" He blinks through the haze of smoke, looking at a despondent Dick. God, that was a weird sentence: Dick, actually despondent. As in, miserable. And not in a "my life is currently a fucking nightmare because we're caped crusaders and fuck this bullshit" sad. Wally got that type of sad. No, this was all about the fact that apparently Tim and Damian started. Well, something. 

"They're not dating because Damian says they're not and I believe him for that because I can just know these things, I raised him basically, alright?" Dick kept his eyes to the ceiling, not even smoking at this point. Just staring at the ceiling and the smoke curling above his head. "They're like pseudo-dating, which I still think it's dating but apparently it's just Damian meeting Tim's friends and vice versa and going undercover together a lot. And flirting. And hacking video feeds. And eye-fucking." 

"That sounds like dating," Kyle says a bit cautiously, nodding his head a bit. Donna just takes another hit, patting Dick on the head. 

"Stiff upper lip, Dick," she murmurs. 

"I just," Dick sighs. "It's weird and makes me sad and it feels like I failed both of them or maybe it's the weed and I don't know what to do so I'm going to sleep now." And promptly does that. 

"We should help him," is the first thing that blurts out of his mouth, which causes Kyle and Donna to choke. 

"Why?" Kyle asks between coughing up a lung. "For fuck's sake, why?"

"He's our friend!" He gestures down to the sleeping Bat. It was cute, all angelic-like as Dick snored away. "We help friends!"

"Wally, this is different," Donna says, eyeing him as if he lost his mind. Which, rude . "These are...Bats. They're a whole different ball game. As in, nearly half of the Justice League thinks they're a subspecies of metas, they're that specific of crazy."

"Aw come on." Wally was not ashamed to use the speedster puppy eyes. He wasn't. Because his puppy eyes are successful. Kyle caved immediately and Donna just sighed which is a success in his book. 

"Fine," Kyle crosses his arms. "But if we don't have an army when we try and convince them to not not-date then I'm not doing it. Both of them are scary, ok?" 

"Deal," Wally said. "Besides, there has to be some people in Dick's corner, right?" There had to be some people to help them. 

The general consensus of the Justice League was this:

“No. Absolutely not. No.”

And running. Mostly running away or lying about plans. 

...Maybe the Titans could help.

Starfire was busy on Tamaran. All she said was that she wished Damian and Tim congratulations on their happy "couplings" and that she "called it."

So that was a bust. 

Vic didn't help or want either. 

"Red Robin is the specific type of person I don't fuck with," he was busy doing something at S.T.A.R labs. Something with a mysterious glowing stone the size of a Fiat and a lot of technology surrounding it. 

"But Vic," Wally whines at the man, flashing him the eyes. 

Unfortunately, Vic was immune to the speedster puppy eyes, mostly due to overuse (Vic always had the coolest gadgets.) "No. I don't fuck with Bats and their crazy, Wally. Especially the one that could easily hack into me , or the one that has stabbing as a hobby."

"I think he does art as a hobby, and volunteers at a Humane Shelter," Donna supplies after a beat. Vic just shoots them an unimpressed look and tells them to leave or stay and help. 

The rock pulses for a moment, before exploding into a monster. 

They stay and help. 

Gar was also no help, or Rachel. 

"I don't get involved in Bats stuff, unless it's for missions, or Tim needs a break," Gar says. "And this isn't either of those." He's cleaning the kitchen, since apparently it's his turn, and back when Wally was here, they didn't have a chore chart, which they should have. Back then everything was just a little bit always sticky until Vic or Rachel got exhausted of the stickiness and cleaned everything. 

"Dude, you can't be seriously thinking that this is okay."

Gar sighs. "From what the grapevine says, and both Tim and Damian have said, it's legal. Weird but legal. Plus, Tim is like, actually a person nowadays. Like a functioning human being." He was tearing up. "I'm just. So proud." 

"Wait, so he stopped being a scary motherfucker?" Kyle asks.

"Oh no, he's still terrifying- in fact he's worse cause Damian likes that, so they're both scary, and I think they made Guy Gardner cry. Full on man weeping." Gar stops moving, pondering that. "But he doesn’t make us question if he’s going to pass out in front of a computer, and Damian smiles like a human being. They're both real boys now, leave them alone." 

"Gar, listen-" 

Rachel ascends on them.

"You're making us miss our date night." Her eyes were glowing. "Leave." 

They wisely make their retreat. 

Bart was even worse.

"It's 1 am," he repeats, frowning at him. Which-yeah, but they had to fight the monster-of-the-day and it took a while. Wally rolls his eyes, biting back the retort he had about Bart's choice of wardrobe- the "pretty boy" sweatshirt was way too big on Bart, the bottom of the hem hitting mid thigh. It looked a bit ridiculous. 

Wally also wonders why Kyle just wheezed and said he'll wait outside. Donna left after the battle, saying she only deals with one speedster at a time, if possible. Which, rude. 

"It's late, I know but-"

"1 am."

"Would you just-"

"Why are you here?"

"You were close to Tim, yeah? Do you mind talking to him about maybe not starting a relationship with Damian so I can get Dick back?" 

"Were?"

"Uh, yeah? What, are you guys close again?" Shit, that...could go either way. Hopefully in his direction. 

Bart squints at him. "You could say that. You haven't heard, huh?" 

Wally blinks. "Heard about Tim and Damian? Bart, that's all what Dick is talking about nowadays." And he didn't like the growl that came out of Bart's mouth. Bart didn't growl. He was Bart. "Seriously, you're okay with it?" 

The speedster cocks his head, shrugging. "It's legal. Like, officially. Bruce didn't actually send in the forms and it became a huge thing now that it's out? Especially at WE? There was this big meeting and Tim pretty much had to take a step back from running WE, which he wasn't happy about, since he's not actually adopted by Bruce, but, Tim has done a lot for the company and it's a shitty situation. So, legally and biologically they're not brothers. They never acted as brothers. Why do you want to try and get between them?" 

"It's weird." It feels weird. And maybe Wally's is feeling a little desperate so he just says "So, c'mon, Bart. For me?" 

Bart just gives him a look. 

"I," he starts, leaning against the countertop. Wally had never seen him be so still. It was mildly terrifying. "Am going back to bed because I have two totally crash babes sleeping and waiting for cuddles with me. I am part of a beautiful, beautiful sandwich and you're making me not be part of that sandwich because you're being dumb. Do you understand me Wally? I get to cuddle with Superboy and Wonder Girl." He gave a little sigh. "So many abs, it's glorious." 

Wally felt the air leave his lungs. "Wait, what-"

"AnswerisnobyeWally!" And he was gone. 

Wally was already chasing him, because tiny speedy boy, even if he thought he was the worst , should not be left alone with fucking Superboy and Wonder Girl, no, fuck that, no, he knows those two. They'll corrupt him. They're probably corrupting him right now.

"Donot run frommeBartAllen-"

...Wally is getting kind of desperate.

The call is picked up by the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey Jason! It's uh-"

"Wally? What's up man?" There were loud clanging metal noises in the back. 

"Listen I was wondering, if you know about Tim and Robin. I was wondering if -"

"Aw shit, are you going on about Demon Brat and Replacement?" A faint female voice in the background drifted through the phone's speaker. "Naw, it's Wally- you know, Dickbird's friends."

"And Donna," Wally adds. "And Kyle."

"Don't involve me in this, Wally, I'm literally here just to laugh," Donna warns. 

Wally hears Jason snort. "Joy, it's the white-name brigade." A laugh. "It's true! Also that's not how you hold an axe-"

"Where are you?" 

"Axe place. You drink beer and throw axes at targets. It's great. And so many amazing women who are so totally not into me. But it's cool. I got some numbers from some nice looking dudes so still, win in my book." Another clang. "You have to handle the handle, Steph- god, don't choke it, you haven't even talked about safewords to it yet. Safe, Sane, and Consensual." A vague "fuck you" was heard. "Bitch please. Anyway, Wally, whatever you're selling, I'm not going to buy. I'm staying out of it, alright? Steph-you know which one is Steph, don't even try and tell me otherwise- and I are both out of that little strange clusterfuck. Not our fucking problem. So whatever it is, count both of us out. I'm going to continue to drink beer and throw sharp heavy things with a new buddy. Ciao." 

"Wait-"

Oracle didn't even let them even say a word, shutting them out of the connection so fast that even Wally was amazed, before being horrified as she brought digital hellfire on their heads. Her answer was obvious: she didn't want to get fucking involved. 

Bring Cass into this I will make your lives a living hell, was the text message she sent after they were huddled in the couch, too scared to even really move. 

They wisely chose to not bother Cass. 

Duke turns to them. And-

They thought it was fine with Signal. He was the sensible one of the entire Batfamily- he was a meta, he got it- they thought-

"Do you want to get between them? Seriously? Superman and Wonder Woman tried. Batman tried. Batman failed epically, but the Trinity tried and look what it got them. Trauma. Alcohol poisoning. Superman crying. Batman trying to do Family Night- which, is as horrible as you would believe," he shudders. "And I know Damian and Tim- both are scary motherfuckers. They're smart, strategic, and just this side of morally gray-ish white. I'm pretty sure Damian has punched a god. The Demon Head of the League of Assassins is into Tim, for fuck's sake. They're terrifying, and short of a damn apocalypse can change their mind, yeah, they're that stubborn. So what the hell do you expect me to do? Argue? Debate? Fuck that. I know my limits, and my limits include convincing either of them something once they have their minds set in the opposite faction. So it's either live in the land of denial and get horrified when they flirt, or just accept and watch as they bring a whole new meaning to the word "power couple." Pretty sure I automatically get to be a godfather or something if they adopt dogs. Which is pretty dope." 

Kyle blinks. "So. That's a no then?" 

"That's a fuck no, hell no, absolutely no," Duke retorted. "I may be a meta, but I'm still a Bat." 

"Hey Kyle?" 

"Yes Wally?"

"Let's never get involved with Bats stuff again." 

"Agreed." 

"Where's Donna?" 

"She left after Signal. Said she was done. Which is why she got lucky." 

"Wise choice," Wally sighs, really hoping  that someone would find them soon. Or maybe Damian would come back and untie them from where they were dangling off the Titans Tower. 

And maybe Bats weren't insane. 

This was the last time Wally was going to help. Like he said before: Fucking Bats. 

Chapter Text

Kate smiled at Alfred as she entered the door. Harper and Cullen both gave their nods, but ultimately heading towards the study. They appreciated what Alfred was, it was just the fact of the idea of a butler still threw them off. Wealth threw them off. She lagged behind, not really looking forward to the actual reason for her visit, and wanting to visit the same man who was basically her uncle. 

"How are you holding up?" She asked, already putting away her coat, turning to hug the old man. It felt like he just didn't get proper hugs. Hugs that didn't feel like an octopus or a board was hugging you. She always tried to give him a proper hug, and slip him a fifty as well. 

He appreciated the hug; the fifty, not so much. 

"Miss Kane, Bruce does keep me cared for," he gently admonished, giving back the fifty. They pause, looking at each other before wincing. 

"... Let's pretend the thought never crossed our minds, especially given our circumstances," Kate said. Alfred nodded vigorously. "An unfortunate slip of the tongue, given our... situation," he said, a frown marring his features. 

"Alfred, I'm so sorry," she confessed, holding onto his arm as they walked to the study. "I should of never-"

Alfred held up a hand. "Miss Kane. There's only one person to blame for this madness, and he's currently doing what he does best: brooding in his study." He scowls. "There has been more than enough chances to avoid this disaster, and he had done nothing more than to make it worse." 

"My god," Kate marveled the scowling butler. "What did he do?" 

"You mean how he forgot about actually adopting the boy who practically threw himself onto the Sacrosanct of the Bat, or how he never actually taught his children how to interact like human beings and brothers, or do you mean that his initial reaction once he found out that his blood son was interested in Master Timothy, he heavily suggested Master Timothy use plastic surgery to disfigure himself into something "less attractive" for both his son, and the Demon Head?" 

She stopped walking, full on gaping at the man, before placing her hands on her knees, half crouching, and just swears in Yiddish until she's red in the face. 

"Alfred, I'm so sorry. I- I cannot believe that this happened," she confessed, sliding an arm around his shoulders.

"Life is mysterious, and Gotham is as well. It tends to bring out the dramatic in all of us, I'm afraid. Who knows, Miss Kane, perhaps the next time we meet, Batman has fallen in love with Luthor, and they've run off to Vienna because Gotham's employment rate went up," Alfred remarked. Kate snorted. "Honestly, I would be surprised- though tell me this, what's your take?" She looked at the older man, fully facing him. They were at the study, her hand on the doorknob. 

Alfred sighed. "Miss Kane, in all my years, I never expected this or even witnessed this happening." He goes silent. "I'm not sure what or how I feel yet, but all I know is that I love my boys, and I don't want them to be destroyed."

"You're a good man, Alfred," she murmurs, giving him a warm smile before opening the door and walking inside. 

Bruce was sitting in front of his desk, not moving, a monument of a man. On the surface. 

Bruce could do that. Look still and calm and sure, when underneath he was still the awkward, dramatic boy who lost his parents way too soon. 

Kate settled in front of Bruce. She studied the man, fingers steepled in front of her before pointing them at him.  

"Bruce," she started. "What the absolute fuck." 

Bruce said nothing, just kept staring at his cousin. 

"I go off," her voice was quiet. "To Italy for two weeks, two fucking weeks, and somehow this clusterfuckery happens. How. The fuck, Bruce Thomas Wayne. How the fuck did you mess up this badly." Her hands were flat against the table.

Bruce kept silent. It did not help that Harper and Cullen were grinning widely behind her. The traitors had run off to Kane, citing "Queer Solidarity." It also didn't help that Kate had snatched Carrie away from him as well, with the redhead girl saying "I always wanted a Jewish Lesbian Mom." Now she's running around calling herself Cardinal. Hell, Selina was the one who went off to Italy with Kate. Selina Kyle. Selina who has been slowly moving over from her Gotham apartment to Kate's apartment. Kate always had that ability- steal any one that he had his eyes on. So many girlfriends had befallen for the Kate Kane charm, and it was truly a miracle that Cassandra preferred him. Though, maybe it was a more accurate statement that Cass preferred Babs and the others. 

He should have shipped Tim off with them. 

"Four days. Four days for this fuckery to happen. I have so many questions, most of them rhetorical. Do you know how badly the Wayne name is going to be thrown in the mud? Do you know what an absolute shitshow this will be? This might go national. We'll be like the Borgias. The Habsburg Dynasty. Probably something even worse. They will have our heads," she growled. "They will eviscerate you." 

Bruce said nothing. Harper and Cullen started to silently laugh at him. 

"You are fucking lucky I like Tim, you dipshit," Kate hissed. 

That. What.

"What?" Said three people simultaneously. She sniffed, leaning back. 

"I like Tim, and I don't want his name being dragged. I don't condone any of this fuckery, but I'm also not going to try and do anything, because your son can have the worst parts of you. Tim, I also know to be a stubborn asshole, and I've already talked to him, which again- I don't condone or accept this fuckery, but I am standing aside and holding my tongue. And he's using a lot of favors and a little bit of bribery, so." She shrugged her shoulders. "So you and I are going to brainstorm the most batshit crazy PR stunt since Holland once decided to make goddamn flowers a currency, so help me Alfred."

"Very good, Miss Kane," came the dry response, him appearing by her side, obviously taking a claim. She nodded to the man before turning back to her cousin. There was a glint in her eye, a glint that made Bruce push back farther in his chair. That was a glint that meant trouble .

Bruce was afraid. 

Chapter Text

"So. I think we need to have a meeting."

"About what?" Kon kept his eyes to the screen. There were few games that the Titans could play, due to a variety of reasons, but Overwatch seem to be the one of the few video games that everyone could play, and play together. Plus, D.Va was awesome, alright? 

"About having a movie night," Tim said as he continued his assault. His favorite was Ashe, and maybe Kon wondered if Tim identified with Ashe a bit too much, and maybe he should be concerned about maybe waking up to a random robot Butler. Or Red Robin running off to the Outlaws.

...Nah. Jason and Tim were getting closer, but they still weren't close. 

Cassie grunted. "Why would we need a meeting about movie night?" It was weird to be working with two tanks, and two damage, but Jamie wasn't playing tonight and Cassie loved being Wrecking Ball, and Bart was deadly with Phara. They were actually doing pretty good. 

"Because I want to bring Damian for movie night." 

The game was paused. 

Movie nights at the Titans Tower were a special thing. Movie nights were sacred. Movie nights were when masks were officially removed, trackers and bugs were disabled, and only the most important of emergency alarms and sensors were still enabled. Movie nights were when the tower was pretty much a fortress, no one able to get in, unless by invitation or magic. Movie nights had a standard . 

That is what Tim wanted to bring Damian to. 

"Ah," Cassie sighed. "Yeah, okay."

"And that's why we're having a meeting." 

Damian shifted as he stared at the other four people in the room. 

"We're having a meeting...about movie night." He repeated, trying to gauge the reaction of the room. "Movie nights" usually meant Dick and Jason arguing over what movie, usually Duke in the background mildly goading them on, while Alfred tried to keep the peace, and Father may arrive there in person, or he may not. Sometimes there were more people, sometimes less. Usually less. 

Damian couldn't remember the last time Tim was at a Bat Movie Night. 

"It's a trigger talk," Tim clarified. "Since all of us, you know, go through mildly to horrific traumatic situations on a day-to-day basis, that watching certain movies can cause a panic attack or flashback or do something like punch the television. We lay out our triggers, understand that we don't use them against each other, and decide which movies we're going to watch." 

"I can go first," Allen said. "Still a trigger: medical body horror. Or super creepy doctors. Or just doctors. And anything that makes you question your very existence in the world and what is truly reality." 

Tim nodded, typing on the laptop opened in front of him. "No worries. Mine are still torture scenes, clowns, asylums, and if we're going to watch Avengers, I'm probably going to leave the room at the isolation part, or the drone parts. Also- no religious overtones." The other three murmured their agreement. Damian also nodded; he'd read the report involving Brother Blood, and even he felt a bit unnerved over the man's last scheme. 

"Mind control is pretty much still completely off the table, right?" The Clone- Kent , he was also a Kent, Damian’s mind supplied- seemed to relax at their nods. "Cool. Still a trigger, and also no religious overtones for me as well."

"Body Horror, large spiders, I also just got done with working with the Doom Patrol so…" Sandsmark winced. Everyone grimaced with sympathy, even Damian; he never interacted fully, but even just being on the periphery, the Doom Patrol was...tolerable on a good day. It was odd that Stone and Logan could tolerate them, and even partner up with them on occasion. He shifted in his seat. 

"Bugs." Tim blinked at him. "I...no movies with bugs," Damian repeated, keeping his eyes trained on the back of the laptop. He kept his eyes trained on the black shell of the laptop, the one covered in various superhero logos. 

(Sometimes he could still feel the sensation of bugs crawling over his face, crawling in between his face and the skin-) 

"Damian?" 

He was back in the Tower. It was Thursday. Everyone was looking at him with (pity) confusion. 

"Sorry," he mumbled. "No- bugs." 

Sandsmark hummed, a less threatening action than if a Bat did it. "I think horror movies are just plain off the table. Sorry, Kon." Kent just shrugged. "I can easily watch those whenever- but no romcoms." 

"Or dumb slapstick," Tim added, wrinkling his nose. 

"Please, not another Wendy the Werewolf Stalker marathon," Wonder Girl begged. 

"Hey, Damian, what about cartoons?" 

"...define," he said, eyes narrowing at the vibrating young man. Cartoons, such as the childish drievel that Brown or Dick watched, was one thing- and if they tried a Disney marathon, he would scream. Or stab the clone. Or just- leave.

"Like, animation movies- classic cell ones, or even the cgi ones. Movies like Disney, or DreamWorks, or Pixar," Impulse explained

Damian made a face. "I don't mind the Pixar films," he replied slowly. "But currently Dick is making me watch "the classics" in the "correct order." He would be happy if he never saw a singing mouse, or singing girl, ever again.

Tim winced. "You're watching the Disney Princesses, huh." He shook his head. "And you're sick of them."

"They're great, if you're interested in singing princesses and that type of black and white thinking," added Sandsmark. "Personally, I like my female leads with more punch. I mean, I enjoy the Disney princesses like the next girl but- Nightwing definitely takes the cake."

"You know what's my favorite? Lilo & Stitch, that's a good Disney film," chimed in Kent. Damian tilted his head. "I haven't heard of that one."

Kent made a noise that sounded like a mad chicken. Jon made that noise too- maybe it was genetic? "Dude, Lilo & Stitch is my favorite- that's it, we're watching that."

"You like it because it's about an alien in Hawaii," snarked Tim. "But- if we all bring one of our favorite animation films, that would be enough for a Movie night," he paused. "CGI or Classic style?"

"Classic, every time we watch a CGI movie you start ranting," Wonder Girl rolled her eyes. "I'm bringing The Rescuers Down Under. Wait-" she stops. "Hey Tim, can you check-"

"Already on the website, and it looks like that's a veto, Cassie," Tim said, his voice sympathetic.

"Shit, I was hoping that wasn't the case." The girl ran a hand through her hair. "Maybe the Original Rescuers."

Several clicks. "That can work."

"Cool. So we have Lilo & Stitch, The Rescuers, what else?"

"Well, keeping the theme, we could do the Aristocats."

"Yes!" Allen explained. "Don't groan Kon- the songs are bangers."

"I'm groaning because Tim's going to sing over "Everybody wants to be a Cat" with "Bat."

"I promise I won't do it, as long as you promise you won't make jokes about how Bruce is Duchess." Kent looked thoughtful before nodding.

"Deal. Even though I still think Hood is Marie."

"Go ahead, make that statement to him," Tim stared him dead in the eye. "But you will get slaughtered, and I'm not helping you outrun Jason." Damian sort of wanted to see that- if only to see how truly trigger happy Todd could get.

"Fine, but also- 101 Dalmatians."

"I have seen that." Eyes turned to Damian. He felt his shoulders start to shift in, but held his ground. "I watch some movies," he snapped.

Tim shook his head "No, it's- it's fine. We have Lilo & Stitch, The Rescuers, The Aristocats, maybe 101 Dalmatians... What's up Cassie?"

"Actually, instead of The Rescuers, I would like to change my choice to Hunchback of Notre Dame, because Esmeralda." Sandsmark smiled as the rest of them agreed. Damian had read the novel, a while ago when he was benched for patrol (Killer Croc and Bane were an awful team. Effective, but awful) and he was aware that it had become a Disney film, but outside of that, he hadn't seen it yet (and yet he'd seen the utter drivel of Cinderella too many times. It wasn't his fault that it was so boring he kept falling asleep.)

"I haven't seen that," He glanced over to Wonder Girl. "It's faithful to the actual novel, yes?"

Kent shrugged. "More faithful to any other Disney movie, but it's still a bit…" 

"Sugary," Tim said. "It's dark for a Disney film, but there's still sugar. I think you'll like it. At least the songs aren't bad." 

Impulse cocked his head at him, looking a bit like a strange bird, to Damian's eyes at least. "What have you've seen, by the way?"

"Cinderella," he wrinkles his nose, especially at the hisses of sympathy. They're acting...not so bad. They seem to understand his disdain. "Sleeping Beauty, 101 Dalmatians, Sword in the Stone, Pocahontas, Peter Pan, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast, the Little Mermaid, the Princess and the Frog, and that infernal one, Aladdin-"

"Wait, they made you watch Aladdin?" Tim met his eyes. The older one was actually sounding angry for him. "The music is more of a nostalgic factor, but dear God it hasn't really aged that well." Tim was also muttering something else under his breath, something about "stereotypes" and "colonialism." 

Kent nodded. "Also you haven't seen ones like The Lion King, or Mulan, or anything outside of Disney, like, even Balto, or anything by Don Bluth-"

"Rats of NIMH gave me nightmares as a kid," the blonde shook her head. "No thank you." 

"Yeah, and Thumbelina seemed like a better movie than it did then."

"What, Tim, you don't want me to be your wings-"

"The Tale of Princess Kaguya."

Silence.

"It fits the requirements. And I like it." Damian kept his face on the table, eyes flicking over to Tim when the man nodded. 

"Sure," Tim said, "I never saw it, but I'm more than down." His smile was warm, and welcoming, and Damian felt a trickle of relief. 

"I think it's from Studio Ghibli right? I'm a sucker for a Studio Ghibli film," Sandsmark said, and the conversation turned to the merits of Studio Ghibli vs Disney, vs other animation studios and-

He enjoyed it. Damian enjoyed debating and arguing with Tim's little "harem" (since, technically they were all bound together, due to the magical bonds they themselves placed on each other.) They didn't mock his choices, or his points, rather pointed out comparisons in what they enjoyed with what he enjoyed. Kent enjoyed a good story-line, but debated the merits of a "cheesy flick" using emotional decompression as a point. Allen actually had valid points about CGI vs Hand Drawn, with him being pro-hand drawn, and Superboy and Wonder Girl being pro-CGI. It was interesting to have Impulse, Bart Allen, actually backing up his own points, not just on the battlefield, it was...new. There were no threats, no knives, no micro-expressions, no tense silences if he made a joke a little too morbid. This was not interacting with the Bats, or the team he had gotten used to, a delicate balance of tentative friends, potential allies, sympathetic teens. This was a group that merely snickered when he made a clone joke, going into full on laughter when Tim added it on, making Kon start all sorts of clone-related puns that just made all of them groan. This was a group where he didn’t feel the need to impress them, where he could make morbid jokes, and both Kent and Allen- Kon and Bart- responded back with their own.

"Dude, we should start a club," Bart grinned at him. "The "My Evil Clone is an Asshole" club.

"What about me?" Kon said, pouting (though Kon's voice is kept light, and there's amusement in his eyes.

Bart just rolled his eyes. "You're already the Evil Clone." Kon and then squawked, and had tackled Bart to the floor, attempting to tickle the speedster. Damian and then caught Tim's and Sandsmark's eyes and mouthed "children." 

It was nice.

The plan was finalized, Sandsmark- Cassie- finished up the meeting by saying she would be bringing some snacks and that everyone else was responsible for bringing a movie and “anything else, like blankets or snacks, just please, nothing haunted" -and there's a story in there. However, as they left, Damian held Tim back, letting himself savor the delicate skin of Tim’s wrist.

"There's another one," he started quietly, looking down at the wrist grasped in his hand. The skin was surprisingly not as scarred as he would’ve expected, vague calluses made from being held hostage, from the gauntlets. Damian could feel the heat radiating from the wrists. "The Adventures of Prince Ahmed' It's. Not really a movie, but it's one of the first animation cinemas and…" his voice was failing him. "It's short but-" He worked his throat. Why was it so hard to say.

"I have some case work to finish," Tim's voice was light, soft, barely heard over the hum of the Tower. "But if you want, afterwards we can go to my room?" And Damian- he glanced up to look at the smile, a mere half of one, but it was soft, and hesitant, and reached Tim's eyes. It was a real smile, a waiting smile. He was waiting for his reaction, Damian realized. He wanted to spend time with him.

Damian nodded once, watching as the smile grew on Tim's face. "I have some things to take care of as well- would six suffice?" 

"Bring whatever refreshments you want and you have a date, Damian." And oh , Damian felt his eyes soften, unable to hide how lovely it felt to hear Tim say his name, but it didn't matter because those blue eyes were staring at him with such wonder. 

"Six, in your bedroom, Tim." And with one last smile, Damian let him go, plans running in his head. 

After all, he had a date to prepare.

Chapter Text

They had come over to intervene. 

Just because the rest of the Bats were varying levels of toleration- ignoring Luke's response was a simple "I'm ignoring this fuckery, don't ask me questions about it"- Harper and Cullen were not. 

"I could have had a chance, Harper," Cullen had hissed. "A fucking chance ." 

"You don't know that-"

"But I also don't know if I didn't know that I didn't!"

"The fuck does that mean?"

"I don't know!"

Also. It was weird. Damian was... Damian, and Tim was Tim, and neither of them really interacted with each other short of sniping and stabbing. And even if they were never actually related, they were still raised that way and it was fucking weird. 

Carrie had started rambling something about how she "could see it" but the rant had quickly devolved into tumblr stuff, and shipping wars. And they both liked Carrie, but she could be a lot. 

So they decided to go to the source. Actually get them to talk, to listen to reason . 

They had originally planned to do so. 

Tim and Damian were out on some undercover mission, and Harper met Cassie and Cullen met Kon and Bart and then Cassie wanted to train with Harper and-

"Huh," Harper kept looking up at the training ceiling. "Huh." She could feel her sweat drying, the air conditioner causing a chill to run over her naked body. She was sore and satisfied and had bruises that weren't just the type you get in bed. 

An equally sweaty and naked Wonder Girl raised her head, looking at her with concern, and satisfaction. "You okay?" 

"Aren't you dating, like, the other two? You know, Superboy and Impulse?" 

Cassie smiles. "I am. But we're semi-open, and also," she leans over Harper, blonde hair like a screen around their faces and fuck, Harper's really bi, goddamn there must be something about Wonder Girls in general because holy shit. 

"You never pass up an opportunity to get laid by a Bat."

"I'm not exactly sure who's doing the laying here-" were Harper's last words before a soft and amazing mouth covered hers and-

Well, you never pass up an opportunity to get laid by a Wonder Girl.

"So, about Tim."

"Tim who?" Cullen wheezes, eyes wide as he processed the fact that he's between two very naked and gorgeous men. Seriously. Tim who? Who's Tim? Did Tim lick Superboy's abs? Because Cullen did. Cullen did and did much more and it was amazing. 

"He's still talking," Bart nuzzles his sweaty hair, and Cullen can feel the speedster get interested again. All of a sudden, his view is blocked by two faces staring down at him, with matching grins that spoke of promise and bad-good things. Cullen may of choked on his spit a bit. 

"You're absolutely right Bart, he's still talking. We should fix that."

"We absolutely should, Kon." 

"I'm going to die," he croaks out before there was a mouth on his neck (oh) and another heading down his chest. "Oh my god, this is the best thing ever." 

"Hey, so I don't feel like leftovers, and Damian is craving - Cullen? Harper? What are you guys doing here?" 

Cullen waves from his location of trying to get back with reality from the mind-blowing sex he just had, Harper in the chair next to him, in the same boat. "We were going to see you, but you were out. Damian is craving what?" 

Tim just blinks. "Uh, Damian was craving Thai and so he's picking up take out for the rest of us." He peers closer at the man. "You okay?"

"Fantastic. That's really nice of Damian," Harper grins, trying to remember if she has a hipbone. She thinks she does. 

"You're welcome to stay if you want," Tim says, pulling out his phone. "I just have to text Damian your orders before-"

"Oh no, no, we both already ate," Harper says, grinning widely. Tim just looks a bit lost, staring at them as they stagger upright. "We'll be out of your hair soon. Just want to give you our blessings-"

"Blessings? What-"

Cullen claps him on the shoulder. "Tim, when we came here, we both were fully intending on stopping this," he says solemnly. Harper nods before continuing. "But now, all we have to say is: You have our blessings, we truly hope Damian makes you happy."

Tim blinks. "Thank? You?"

Cullen nods, before walking to the doorway, glancing back at Harper with a smile. 

"Shall we, sister?" She sidles up next to him, grinning broadly back at him. "We shall, brother." And with that, both siblings stroll out, looking very happy and okay with the messed up world. 

Tim looks over to the three, looking very innocent at the kitchen island. "What the hell did you do?" 

They smile. "Our best."

Chapter Text

They call her things. 

They call Cass a lot of things. 

The others aren't surprised that she knows things before they're aware- she knows that there's rumors of her being a meta, or psychic, or someone the "True Bat." 

They, of course, are wrong. 

Cass knows because she looks. 

She's not a meta or psychic- she's not a human goddess or anything of that. She watches and waits and listens, not to words, that can twist or bend or be something completely different than the meaning, but to the bodies, to hands, gestures, blinks, to things most people do not think of hiding, not well. They'll hide their reaction behind smiles, but smiles that are too perfect, too practiced. Not messy, real ones. Not like the ones she sees on her family, when there's a joke, or out eating. 

She watches and listens and is not surprised about Tim and Damian, of them curling their bodies close to each other, of Tim's smirk, hopeful and wicked, to Damian's smile, feral and loving. 

After all, she's been waiting for a while.

"Thank you." 

Damian looks annoyed, but he is seventeen. He is always looking annoyed. Annoyed at Dick and his attention, annoyed at Jason and his antics, annoyed at Bruce for many complicated reasons. He gets annoyed. He's Damian. 

"It's just files," he mutters, turning back his laptop. And then: "You're welcome."  From the corner of her eye, she sees a large grey hoodie nearly shoved underneath his bed. It looks vaguely like the hoodie Tim has been looking for, before he bought a new one. 

He hasn't been getting annoyed with Tim. They have been doing small projects with Tim, little chores, here and there. Both of them are extending out hands, hesitant with each other. 

Damian especially. His body language has been more hidden, more closed off; even she sometimes can't get a read on what he's feeling, what he wants. He at least seems relaxed around the older boy. 

"What?" His face is cautious wary hidden

"Happy. That's all."

"About the case?

"No, just. Thinking. I'm glad. You're happy, working with Tim." And he is. They are getting closer now, as they grow, and she appreciates how the anger has cooled down. Seeing either of them with stab wounds was a bit of a damper for breakfast. 

Strangely, he gets prickly than happy about that statement. 

"Like I would be happy dealing with Drake, " he spits, hissing, and his body says anger hidden.

How odd. He is seventeen, and young so she doesn't ask, not yet. So she just shrugs, pocketing the information. 

"Careful, I'm, of course, all knowing."

"Tt." This is a common banter between them, though it has become worn, soft, like her favorite sleep shirt. 

"It's true, I am." She smiles, silently laughing when he rolls his eyes, seventeen and still dramatic. How wonderful. 

"Tt. It's not like you know everything."

She shakes her head. "Mm. Wrong."

"Wrong?" He's still, his body betraying nothing but hidden hide hidden. She raises an eyebrow, but still says:

"I know." It is a joke. It's meant to be a joke, a point about Bruce and Batman and his infallible "I know everything" that always turns out to be fallible. At least that's what Babs says. 

It's meant to be a joke, and yet he reacts as if he was stabbed. 

He jumps up, whirling to face her. "I cleaned the evidence," he hisses, and his body screams fear, fear, fear. "How. How do you know- how." 

She blinks. "I'm joking. Batman joke." She watches as he relaxes, shifting from fear, caught, fear, into relax, fear, caught, failure. Her mind is carefully going over his words, his actions. 

He had said she didn't know everything. She had responded with I know. He had reacted. Which means his mind was somewhere else. Probably their original discussion.

They were originally talking about the case. She had made a comment about him and Tim. He had reacted when she said I know. 

Damian has been nicer to Tim. Still prickly with Tim. He reacts angrily, and gets uncomfortable sometimes with Tim. 

The main points are when Tim goes on "Missions"- she's aware that they're honeypot missions, but she refuses to call them true missions- or when Tim and Jason spar, when there's anger running a bit too close to their skin. Damian will stare and then leave the room, heading straight to his bedroom with the music on loud. 

He said "Cleaned the evidence." Which means mess  Alfred usually cleans messes, unless it's something like

The missing grey hoodie.

Oh. 

Oh. 

"Little brother," she knows her smile isn't kind, but still she wraps her arms around his body, pulling him tight against her. He struggles valiantly. It's cute. "Little brother," she croons again. 

"Unhand me Cain," he snarls, still squirming, but a couple of nerve-strikes make him stop, resigning himself to her hug. He's embarrassed fear happy, so she grins, letting her chin rest against his shoulder as they gently knock heads. 

"Quiet." And she will. She will keep quiet about this, this delicate thing. Damian huffs out a breath, not quite a snort, but the rough equivalent. He knows what she is saying. "Thank you." 

She hums, shifting her hold so that it's a proper hug, and less like a choke-hold. 

It is like glass, she surmises. Or- metal. Together they were two pieces of iron, striking the other, immoveable. Together they were hot, molten, burning themselves and others in their path. They left scars, and everyone was afraid of breathing around them, breathing the fiery air around them.

But now they are fragile. They are cooling, becoming fragile, breakable. The anger has cooled and something else is in its place. Together, they can temper themselves and transform. Transform into something wonderful. 

She hums, petting his head and ignoring when  he snarls and jerks his head. He is seventeen. Soon he will be eighteen, and will be making his attempts more overt. 

She can't wait. 

She finds him on the rooftop of the Tower.

"Cass," and it is the half-smile, the secret smile. The one meant for her and her alone. His body says happy, amused, tired. 

Tim is not surprised to see her. He rarely is anymore. 

She smiles. "Brother." For he will always be that. No matter what, he will always be that to her. Brother. Friend.

"You knew, didn't you." His body is back, facing the ocean, the sunset. He is relaxed. They are side by side, watching the ocean. 

She shrugs, letting it be obvious. He is a Bat, he knows when she is obvious with her movements. "Wasn't my place to say." 

Tim hums, but she knows he is agreeing. She knows when he is agreeing because he does not want to make waves, and truly agreeing, believing in her words, and this is the latter. 

"I'm not going back to Gotham for a while." 

She nods. 

"I'm going to be here at the Tower for a while. I don't know when I'll be back." His body says the rest of the sentence: I don't know if I'll ever go back. 

This is not surprising. The knowledge had shaken them, shaken a piece of Bruce when it seemed that he would not shake. Words were said that hurt. Everyone else is still uncertain unaware unsure and so they react with hesitance hurt, they react with ignore ignore fight. 

This will not be ignored. This can't be ignored. 

But this can hurt. She has known for a while, since she found out about Tim not being adopted, when she had snooped and found no papers. She had kept silent on that, thinking that there was another layer, a missing piece. There was a plan, a contingency, as Tim would say. 

No, just a neglectful man that gave his love in awkward and painful ways. He loves them, they all know, but his love is heavy and jagged, a handful of golden shards that cuts into your hands and makes your blood look beautiful as it spills.

Damian appears from the doorway, the only tell of his surprise is a double blink. 

"Cassandra." He nods to her. "Tim," and his body says joy eager love love love. 

Tim turns to him, his saying happy fear wanting hesitant love.

This makes sense. 

Damian had years to accept to allow himself to either move on or let this grow. He had time to let it thrive, to let it shape the way he wants it to, to cultivate it. He has time to let it flower and bloom and propagate. Damian is ready to give up a piece of himself, is eager to give it up for the one that he chose. And most important: Damian had time. 

Tim has not. Tim, like many things, has had little time to let things grow, thrive. Tim had been thrown in, and had been demanded answers, demanded reactions, demanded pieces of him he did not want to give up. It was unsurprising that he reacted the way he did. He did not want to be alone when he gave them up, the answers, the reactions, the pieces. He wanted control, an equal field. It makes sense for him to do the marriage bonds, a way to finally get Ra's off his tail, a way for him to give himself time to think. It surprised everyone else, but they did not know Tim, then. Most of the Bats don't really know Tim.

The people he bonded with are good people. They love him, she knows, they love him but not in love, and respect him and yet doesn't take any shit from him. They will not and do not expect to bow to him. They will not and do not expect Tim to bow to them. That’s what makes the bonds work. 

Damian will also not bow to Tim. He will stand by him, respect him, love him, but he will not be swayed by his words, his manipulations. Tim is aware of this, and that is what makes him hesitate. For with Damian he will have to be honest. With himself he will have to let something grow, bloom, cultivate. With Damian, he will have to give up pieces that he had once done before, he did once and got hurt. 

And Tim hates pain. Hates pain more than anything. 

She watches as Damian murmurs his reason for coming out there, something flimsy, not worth her remembering, and she watches as he steps into the older man’s space, his arms by his side, but still standing behind him, letting his chin rest on the shorter man's head. She watches as Tim leans a little back, allowing himself to lean against Damian, just a little bit. They are comfortable in each other’s space. They are relaxed as they both watch the sunset, not one of them saying a word. 

Cass watches as both of them say hesitant happy love. 

She smiles, and waits with them as the sunset falls. 

Chapter Text

Vicki is having a fantastic day. 

Look, Batman and Co. have been her Moby Dick for a long, long time. She had thought she got it, finally got it, with Timothy Drake-Wayne. It was perfect. And then the little weasel escaped, because obviously the fucker somehow gets shot and yet not really, because the fucker is probably Red Robin and just-

Urgh. 

For once it's not about the Bats, about Bruce Wayne, no this, this was her Magnum opus. For she found out, not one, but two things: 

1.Timothy Drake-Wayne isn't legally a Wayne. It turns out little Brucie never actually finished going through with the papers (and oh, is there something juicy underneath there) and so Little Timmy Drake isn't actually an heir and his hold over Wayne Enterprises is in jeopardy, something he may weasel out of if it wasn't for:

2.Damian Wayne and Timothy Drake are currently in a relationship. 

Scratch that, Damian al Ghul-Wayne and Timothy Drake-Wayne are in a sexual relationship. 

Someone had been sending packages. Sexual packages to the offices of Wayne Enterprises, special delivery to one Timothy Drake-Wayne. Someone with the last name of al Ghul. 

And it can't be the other al Ghul's (is there al Ghul's out there? She makes a note to dig into that) which means Damian Wayne has been sending his supposed older brother sexual packages. 

They're both currently "on sabbatical" which is just code for "hidden until they knew how to react" and she was eager and ready and about to go Wayne hunting and then Kate Kane called her. 

Kate Kane. She peed herself a little when she got that call. 

Kate Kane sets up an interview with her, along with Bruce Wayne, and Lucius Fox. Vicki got to do an exclusive, of them saying that the papers were destroyed and Tim wanting to not continue with the adoption because of a long held promise between him and his mother (there's still rumors about Janet Drake to this day) and him being afraid that if he didn't say yes, he would be cast out on the streets like a commoner (her words not theirs, but it was implied.) They said how Tim and Damian fought, before realizing they weren't so different, and Damian being nineteen and in love. About Tim reciprocating. That they had run away to hide in Miami. 

It's crazy. It's chaotic and dramatic and what's best, the information backs up what they're saying. 

Oh, they're definitely not hiding in Miami. She's positive that they're in San Francisco, but everything else, she checked and double checked and actually pulled a Lois Lane, and properly investigated. But it's all there. The promise. The infatuation. Everything's there. 

Holy fuck, the Waynes are going to go down worse than the Borgias. 

They'll never recover. Vicki Vale is going to sink the Wayne ship, and when she does, she's finally going to get them to confess that all of them are vigilantes, that Tim is Red Robin, and not only that, that Bruce Wayne is  Batman. She is going to sink that ship like the Titanic and gain her Moby Dick in the process. 

People love social media. And they love a good scandal, a good salacious story. Unless something bigger and more shocking comes around, no, this story is going to be what people are going to be talking about for weeks. Months.

She laughs to herself as she walks into the office, heading to her cubicle. Already she has a fresh copy on her desk, face down. Like she requested. She's been able to avoid the news since she awoke, wanting to fully savor it when she arrived. Given, she had expected people to be congratulating her, or even, talking to her, but they're probably just shocked about the amazing story. 

She has finally got those Waynes by the balls. 

She grabs the newspaper, and-

And-

Her column is there. Her column is there, on the second page, an afterthought. The actual headline shines up at her. 

TIME REBOOTED: LOIS LANE TELLS ALL. 

She stares at the paper. 

She stares at the paper. 

No. 

No. No. Nonononononono NO. 

Her story. 

She lost her story. 

It's going to be forgotten and ignored and-

Moby Dick has evaded once again. 

She curses, raising up the newspaper and bringing it in a dramatic swoosh to the floor, the only thought in her head is this: 

Fucking Lois Lane. 

"Thank God for Lois Lane," Kate toasts, clinking her glass. "Without her, this could have been a very wild situation. Instead, we can worry about making their relationship seem so boring, most people won't even blink." 

Selina smiles at her, eyes soft as she watches the woman take a sip of her drink. "I'll admit, I was surprised to find that I was part of your marketing campaign," she rests her hand against the bicep of Kate, squeezing it slightly. "Not that I mind, of course." 

Kate gives her a winning smile back. "Selina, if there's one woman who I can trust to break into buildings to provide the information that Vicki was going to definitely fact check, it's 100% you. And not only that," she steps closer, letting a hand lightly rest against Selina's hip. She could feel Selina's purr in her chest. "But just having you next to me is better than any adventure I could have." 

"Oh, I don't know about that," purrs Selina, and her eyes are filled with mischief and want. Kate smirks. 

"Bruce," Lucius looks on as the two women continue to flirt, taking a sip of his champagne. "You have terrible luck with women." 

Bruce just grunts, and continues to sip at his ginger ale. 

Chapter Text

Dick would like to point out, that he hates portals. 

Any portals. All portals. Hell, he's not fond of the game Portal- Tim tried to explain it to him, but video games were meant to destress after missions, not make him more stressed. 

But at this moment, he's especially not fond of weird portals that just randomly appear and swallow up his team and transport them somewhere else. 

He's really hoping they're at least transported to another place, not another universe, like last time. 

"Sound off," he murmurs through the comms, mentally checking off everyone as they follow through. Robin. Superboy. Miss Martian. Wonder Girl. Beast Boy.

No Arsenal. 

"Arsenal respond."

No answer. Not even a "fuck you."

"Arsenal Respond."

"He's here," M'gann murmurs, a hand to her temple. "He's... shocked? And…" she frowns. "Nightwing, there's something up-"

"Holy fuck," Arsenal's voice crackles through the comm, right before the most unholy screech Dick's ever heard echoes through the space where they have fallen to. 

They're moving. Dick's running, because Arsenal may be an asshole, he's still Roy, and he can't fail Roy again, not again not-

They burst into an entryway and.

Unsure of what they're seeing. 

On one hand, Arsenal is near the edge of a countertop in an open-kitchen area, just motionless, staring at a scene in front of him. He's not angry or terrified or injured, he's just. Not moving. Shocked. 

On the other hand- it's definitely obvious that they're in a different universe, damn it, because there's another older Cassie and Bart, and they're laughing, cackling really, at what looks like a hipster older Superboy sobbing on a coffee table in a living room area, while someone who looks like an older version of Tim gestures wildly at a whiteboard in front of a television covered in post-it notes and My Little Pony drawings and another young adult, a guy with green eyes and black hair, looks at Superboy with disgust. 

"CLARK SAID I'M PINKIE PIE!" The Superboy wailed even louder. The other man snorted. 

"tt. Of course he would, Kent. It would make sense that the speedster would also be the one pony who boast speeding powers-"

"Pinkie Pie. Me. Pinkie Pie. How Dare. Timmy, cuddle me. Love me, best friend." 

"Absolutely not. You have a boyfriend and a girlfriend all to yourself-"

"But I want bestie cuddles," Superboy whined, making grabby hands at the older Tim. "As head concubine, I want cuddles from my favorite Robin."  He floated over, curling his arms around the older Tim's shoulders and burying his face into the other's neck. 

Behind him, Dick could hear his entire team choke. He was feeling as surprised as well. 

"You are an ass," older Tim sighed, patting an arm around his collarbone. "You're fucking lucky I'm the damn alicorn of friendship. Also, we have company."

Several sets of eyes turn to them.

"Oh, dimension bullshit," the other Cassie sighed. "Man, that's the worst." 

"Uh," Dick cleared his throat. "We...come in peace?" 

He could feel the disdain radiating from behind him. He's trying. This is fucking weird. His brain is still processing the concubine comment. 

"Yeah, I figured, given the shock," Older Tim snorted. "Who's turn is to deal with this?" He glared when the older version just pointed at him. "Real classy, guys. Real fucking classy. Also- M'gann, stop trying to get in our heads. It wasn't cute the first time and especially not cute right now." 

M'gann gaped at the elder. "I-how-" 

"Long ass story short: Magical Friendship Bracelets can prevent mind-control." Older Superboy gestured, giving finger-guns at Conner, straightening but still floating. "Seriously, it's great. We're all immune- well, except Damian." 

"tt. I wouldn't want to be bonded to you anyway, Kent."

"Aww, don't be like that, Damian," Older Cassie grinned, wrapping an arm around the older man. "As secondary concubine, I know you really don't hate us." Damian rolled his eyes, a half smirk appearing on his face. He seemed close to the older Cassie. "Well...for being Drake's harem, you're really aren't that bad." 

Dick felt light-headed. "Harem-" He could hear Tim wheezing behind him. He's pretty sure Cassie's was making that high pitch noise. Oh, this wasn't good. 

The Older Tim gave him a glance up from where he was tapping something on a phone- and it's shocking, the fact that he wasn't wearing a mask of any kind- did Bruce finally void that rule? Or was this a more rebellious Tim? A dangerous one? His eyes were blue, a sharpened blue, something that Dick didn't even think that Tim's eyes could be. There were also faint scarring around his lips, and that's interesting, Dick has more questions. "It's because technically, the Magical Friendship Bracelets, are...well, magical marriage bonds. It's Atlantean, Amazonian, Norse, Celtic- which ones am I missing-"

"Latin, and the Primordial Babylonian one," Allen chirped, fidgeting with the edge of his sweatshirt and Dick finally got out of his head and fully processed what- 

"What the hell are you wearing?" He couldn't help but screech, instinctively grabbing Tim and covering the boy's eyes. Alas, he got an elbow to the side, unfortunately grabbing Arsenal instead of Tim, unable to really pull his eyes away from the other groups' shirts. 

Sandmark (it would be easier for Dick to think as last names because. They weren't his team- ) had a white t-shirt that said "Daddylicious" tied into a crop-top. Superboy (or Kent ? Which- was this Conner close to Superman?) Had on a navy T-shirt that had the words "World's Okayest Mommy" in white lettering over a plaid shirt. Allen was wearing a pink sweatshirt that was way too big, with the words "Fast Boy" in teal flowery lettering. Damian was just wearing a plain green polo, but Drake had on a gray t-shirt that said "Bruce Wayne: I should've been a Moo-Moo Wrangler" in bold black lettering

Dick had questions. Dick had a lot of questions. 

...He also wanted to know where Drake got that shirt and if there was one he could bring back home but right now he just wanted to make sure that Tim or any of the others could walk out of here without some sort of trauma. 

"Clothing? Really Grayson." Damian looked at him with pity. "Even from a different dimension I would expect better." Dick tried not to flush at their snickers, some coming from behind him. "My name is Nightwing-"

"We know," the quintet intoned. "Jesus it's like this is his first alternate dimension or something," Sandsmark complained. 

"You have been to other dimensions?" Superboy gave him a look, before his face softened. "Oh," he sighed. "Guys, they're new. Look at them," he waved a hand around. "Brand new terrified babushkas, the lot of them. They probably only been to like, one alternate dimension before us." 

Uh, it was two.

Drake held up a finger, tapping something on his phone with the other. "One, that word means grandmother, not child, Con, we talked about that, and two- M'gann texted me that she'll handle this for us, unless it's the dimension with the Mind-Control Apologist M'gann, which, if it is, I'm supposed to say something that my phone is unable to receive but probably very insulting and hurtful." He squinted at M'gann. "Are you the Mind-Control Apologist M'gann?" 

Her "No" overlapped with Conner's "Yes." 

All turned to look at Conner, not even looking the least bit apologetic. "She tried to excuse the fact that she mind controlled me. So. Yeah. She's the Apologist." He nodded to the group. "Hey, other me- you said you bonded with Tim? Who else?" 

"Cassie and Bart," Superboy replied, with Sandmark and Allen giving nods to Conner. Conner nodded. "Mind if I jump on the bandwagon?" He asked, taking a few steps towards them.

"Conner, I admire you as a friend," Cassie started. "But I don't-"

"Not you, them," Conner interrupted. "I want to bond with them. Leave me in this dimension." He was in front of Superboy at this time, who was still floating a bit off the floor. Both stared at each other, before Conner collapsed against him, face planting into the other's chest. "I'm so tired. Dear God, leave me here. Let me not have to deal with Mind-Control bullshit." 

"It is pretty nice to not deal with that anymore. Also, you're a good person and a real boy," Superboy said, wrapping his arms around Conner and patting his back. "And you don't have terrible fashion choices." 

"Con, don't lie to the other you," Sandsmark rolled her eyes. Cassie didn't say a word, but Dick didn't check because he couldn't remove his eyes from this fuckery. "He needs to know the truth."

"Fuck, lie to me, mock me, or whatever, but let me in with that anti-mind control thing, I don't even care if I have to get called a concubine, " Conner replied, not moving from his spot. "Hell, I'm even okay with the fact that apparently everyone is a brony." 

Sandsmark winced. "We're not- okay so basically this all started when we were celebrating...I don't remember what, by getting really high with Gar- by the way, the fact that you have a kid Gar? That's wild-"

"Wait, you got high? At base?" Dick didn't think his voice could get any higher. 

Drake squinted at him again. "Not...whatever base is, but here, at the Titans Tower...yeah? We're in San Francisco. It's California. Of course we get high. Your counterpart gets high. He's currently getting high with our counterpart of Green Lantern, Wally, and...which alias is Donna going by under nowadays? Also, Superman's wife get high and it's a fucking treat to see her start her "eat the rich" rant." He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you all gaping at me?" 

"Maybe they're straight edge," Allen commented, zipping between them all. "Maybe it's a dimension where weed isn't legal, which, bummer man." 

"Marijuana is a drug," Dick started, horror coursing through his body. "Batman taught us that-"

"Batman gets high, Dick, fuck off," Drake snapped. Even Damian nodded. "Batman definitely gets high- it's the only time we've seen him even interact well with Aquaman." 

"Batman doesn't get high-"

"Batman gets high with Aquaman  and it's one of the few times we actually see him unclench, which coming from me, is saying something," Drake said. Damian sighed, giving Dick a pitying (rude) look. "I also get high, I recently got high with my counterparts of Logan and Roth, and have been doing so off and on for years, especially during recuperation after intense injuries. Really, Grayson, this is sad. Please tell me you don’t lead anyone, do you?"

"Can we get high?" Conner asked, looking at Superboy. Superboy nodded. "Sometimes we get high with Superman. He can't really get high, the usual way, but he's good with helping out trips. He either rants about the 1% or sings Kryptonian songs to us and tells folk stories from Kryptonian or Kansas."

Conner looked over at Dick, face completely serious. "I mean it, Nightwing, leave me in this dimension. Let me live here. I'll be a brony, I'm so okay with that." He relaxed against Superboy, turning his face so that one of his cheeks were squished against the Superboy's chest. "Do you think this dimension Superman would like me?" he asked Superboy. 

"Dude, I'm sure he'll think you’re awesome as soon as we can get him on the phone- like, it was rough, but he got it, and it helps that he has a kid now so he's a bit less uptight about that."

"Really?" Dick's heart went out to Conner, because he sounded so hopeful.

"Yup," Superboy popped the plosives. "And I'll make sure you get a slice of the best apple pie in the universe. Seriously, Ma and Pa Kent are going to adore you." 

"I do like apple pie," Conner mused, not even flinching when Superboy began running his fingers through Conner's hair.   

"Fuck, can I stay here too? I want to get high again," Arsenal leaped over a couch, settling against the cushions. "Hell, I'll even be a brony if it means I get to smoke weed again."

"Arsenal, you're a minor ," Dick replied. And Arsenal just sneered at him. "I'm physically nineteen, Dickwing, and besides, if we're fucking allowed to die in masks and capes, then I think we're fucking allowed to smoke some weed, and fuck whatever anyone else says." 

"I like this Arsenal," Damian said, crossing over and holding out a hand. "Damian. Current Robin, Blood Son of Batman, Suitor of Timothy Drake." 

"...Shit, really?" Arsenal took the hand glancing over at Drake (and Dick was having an out of body experience, because what? The fuck? What? ) "I thought-"

"B forgot to actually send in the paperwork, so no, I'm not legally his kid," Drake rolled his eyes. "You missed that shitshow. And the resulting explosions."  

"I definitely want to hear about this shitshow," Arsenal responded, impressed, clasping Damian’s hand. "Also- Roy Harper. Got iced, got cloned twice, and now I'm a twenty something guy stuck as a fucking teenager. I hate Green Arrow." 

"I would like to hear about the cloning, and I despise the Green Arrow as well," Damian sounded interested and also- Son of Batman? Oh god, was he that baby that was with Talia, cause that meant that he was related to the Demon's Head and what the clusterfuck was going on-Dick was getting the urge to just facepalm and cry. 

"No," Dick was shaking his head. " No, no, no one is getting high during a mission or ever- " 

"Live a little, dude!" Allen smiled, already at his side. "Weed is a good alternative to painkillers, and less likely an addictive substance than prescription medication, and can be either smoked or ingested in a baked good, and can help with pain management, bring back hunger-"

"It also helps with anxiety and depression," Drake added. "Hey Kid- Robin." 

Tim straightened. "Yeah?" His voice was hesitant. 

Drake kept his gaze. "You know that screaming in the back of your mind? The endless sensation of fighting a void that if you stop for a moment, will overwhelm you completely? The restlessness under your skin? All that? Goes the fuck away after two hits of weed."

"I- the screaming stops?" And oh no, Timmy is sounding hopeful. Also, what the fuck,  Timmy. "It goes away?" Drake nodded. "And you can actually sleep without nightmares," he added. 

"I'm staying in the brony-weed dimension as well," Robin said, already going to sit beside Arsenal and Damian. And fuck Dick's life. 

"No one," he growled, using his Batman voice. "Is smoking weed, staying anywhere, or becoming a fan of My Little Pony.  Our Superboy, Arsenal, and Robin, get back in formation . We're going to figure out where and how to head home, so if you can please open up your Zeta tube- you do have Zeta tubes, right?" Blank faces. "Right?" 

Silence. 

"...We have a Flash?" Sandsmark said, and Allen made jazz hands.

Dick gave into the urge to facepalm. He really hated portals.

Chapter Text

"I call in motion the Lane-Kent Meeting to start. Jon, track the minutes." 

"I'm always tracking the minutes," the teenage boy mutters. 

"Because you need practice," Lois Lane-Kent says. "Learning short-hand doesn't happen in a day, and no child of mine is going to be awful at it- no offense, Kon." She gives the young man a quick smile of apology. Kon didn't even mind; he likes being "Cool Uncle Kon" and not "Genetic Clone-son" as some of the other JLA members had pushed early on in his existence. Lois, unlike Clark, was pretty much accepting of him from the get-go, and has also been pretty chill in the fact that Kon has started dating Cassie and Bart. Not that Clark wasn't, but he had caught Clark chilling in space with a serious look on his face, staring out into the cold vacuum while a corn-printed tumbler floated next to him. Clark did seem a little concerned. 

Or maybe he was trolling him, it could go either way with Clark. 

"None taken," Kon smiles, raising a hand as a gesture of peace. "Now to the actual reason." He pauses. 

"The actual reason being?" Clark finally asks, the moment stretching long enough that he could hear crickets. 

"Ok, so we all know about multiverse and how everything gets rebooted every so often?" 

"I should hope so, since I was the one who investigated, wrote, and published the damn thing," Lois looks at Conner with a furrowed brow. "Why are you nervous?" 

"We had," Kon starts. "A small situation. That resolved itself, but I was hoping we could potentially help out a person."

"...And who is this person?" Clark gently asks, mildly worried because- well, it's always best to be cautious. It might be a person. It might be a semi-reformed alien from another dimension. It might be a weird in-between of the two. With Kon it could go any way. 

"So, I met another- Non-evil, I cannot stress this enough, Non-evil Conner Kent from another dimension. And I may of invited him over for pie," Kon says.

Okay, so it was a weird in-between. Cool. 

Clark sighs. "Kon…"

"Before we go into lectures, just- let me lay out my reasons why I said yes, first off: Non-evil. Like, he works for the JLA and he's a good angsty boy. Like so angsty Lois." Kon let his face soften into the Kent Puppy Pout™ "He's so quiet and he thinks he's nothing more than some sort of leashed monster and he's been manipulated by his ex-girlfriend and Luthor, and both of them use mind-control on him, and he's so sad. And angry. But not like rage-angry, just like, angsty-angry. Also he goes on Stealth missions and is such a serious little cookie." 

"Kon, that's not really-" 

"-And That Superman from that dimension wants to put him in Space Jail and let him die there, like a forgotten plant. He's so angsty. Also his legal guardian is a robot. Isn't that sad? No one else wants to be his legal guardian." 

Clark frowns as Kon rattles on. Even if the situation with Conner was weird, he never would want Conner to spend the rest of his days in jail. At least, not without a reason. Conner was...a lot, but apparently this Conner wasn't and was trying his best to show that he was doing good and no one was paying attention. And the fact that a robot was his legal guardian is...well, it's tugging on Clark's heart strings. 

And then Kon said the magic sentences, the sentences that automatically make up Clark's mind. 

"-And he's never had a piece of Ma's pie and his closest paternal figure is Batman." 

Two hands were slammed against the table, causing everyone to look up at the man as he stood up. "Kon, grab this boy and bring him over. I've heard enough. He's ours now." 

Lois got up as Kon started cheering. "Clark, I don't think-"

"No Kent, that's good and believes in justice and protecting what needs to be protected, is going to go and be raised by a man in a Batsuit, or never taste the holy grail that is Ma Kent's pie." Clark closes his eyes, feeling a wave of emotions run through him as he grips a fist in front of his heart. "It just ain't right." 

"Smallville, you're sure about this?" Lois sighs when all he did was nod his head vigorously. "Well, let's meet this teen, I guess."

"He's ours now," Lois says calmly, as she continued to tighten her hold on the teen. "He is ours and no one else can have him. I will fight someone for this. I will fight God. Conner, Kon, oh, this is going to get weird fast-"

"I mean, I can be Kon, and he can be Conner, unless he wants a new name. Or I can get a new name, you know, call myself Konan," Kon supplies. 

Conner shrugs, or tries to; for a normal human, she has a strong grip. "I'm alright with that, for now," he says, a bit muffled as Lois apparently tries to shove him into her chest. 

"Smallville, he's so young," she cooes. "He's younger than Jon. Clark, I'm having feelings."  

"Mama, can I have him as a younger brother?" Jon asks, hugging the clone from behind. Lois pats her son's arm, still hugging the other clone. "If you behave, and we figure out this won't disrupt the physics of reality," she says. She knows he says this albeit jokingly- lord knows he’s never called her “Mama” but there is sincerity in his voice. Jon likes the kid already- definitely wants to have him as a family member. And she can't promise, but Kon was right- he's so angsty and angry and so touch-starved. Like an abused dog- and maybe that analogy was a bit too close on the nose. He was used as a puppet by his supposed parental figure and also girlfriend. But he had Clark's eyes and the small smile he gave to Kon and her was pure Clark, and also, maybe she's getting a bit of an empty-nest syndrome, especially since Jon's been talking about colleges (which is great) and moving to California (which is also just. Great. She loves it. Really.) So maybe seeing this boy, who looks like Kon and yet not, be all quiet and twitchy and just like the dog down the street that she used to give treats and pets and eventually called the police due to his owner abusing him, maybe seeing this boy brings out something a bit maternal and protective in her. 

...Conner is just like that pit bull. Oh god. She prays she doesn't accidentally say that out loud. 

"I don't know what's going on," Conner admits, tensing when he suddenly feels something warm on his right and- he realizes that Superman is hugging him. Superman. Willingly hugging him. Kon is hugging his left side but Superman is willingly hugging him. 

"I'm really not in Kansas anymore," he whispers to himself. That's actually a bad quote: He's in the middle of Kansas, surrounded by green and farm and life, and just. He feels at peace. He's warm, warm from the inside. He's in Kansas, but it's not his usual Kansas. Or Rhode Island. Or-dimension. 

Dimension shit was weird. But it also meant that he's being hugged by Superman and not hating on him. And apparently this Superman isn't a total douchebag. And Lois is great if a little terrifying, and Jon seems pretty chill and friendly, and Kon's like this weird, older version of him that just automatically gets the bullshit. He knows that Dick is currently back at the 'T' tower, supposedly 'supervising" Arsenal with Damian and Older Tim, but who knows that's going to go- Arsenal seemed really excited to meet Damian and Older Tim. And their collection of high grade explosives.

Also, they want Dick to meet a "Red Hoodie" or whatever. Conner is just going to enjoy the fact that Superman isn't being a douche-canoe and is introducing him to his family and shit. Maybe he could punch the other Superman. Or maybe this Lois Lane could. Something tells Conner that Lois would do that in a heartbeat, with or without kryptonite. 

"Welcome to the family." Clark hums. "Now, let's go eat pie." He grins. Ma and Pa are going to love the shit out of him.

"Hey Ma, guess what!" Clark beams as they walk towards the house. "We got a new family member!" 

Chapter Text

When he found out that the team disappeared, Bruce was concerned. 

Dick would say he was "frantic with panic," but Dick wasn't there, and that was the reason for concern. 

Granted, they showed up mere hours later, but in those hours, Bruce would argue that he gained at least twelve more wrinkles, several gray hairs, and half a plan to steal both Dick and Tim away for awhile with Alfred and take a vacation. 

Portals, he thought privately, Could go to hell. 

Everyone was back when they returned. Everyone was safe and whole and undamaged- 

Well, undamaged physically. Mentally and emotionally were questionable. 

Dick was horrified about something, kept looking at him and then shaking his head, shuddering. Miss Martian, Garfield, Cassandra, and Bartholomew, they were both exhibiting signs of shock as well, and Bruce privately thought that perhaps it was time for Dinah to step in, because Cassandra had started looking off into the distance and making a high pitched noise reminiscent to a dog's whistle. 

What was also concerning, was that Arsenal, Conner, and Tim seemed...upset. Roy and Tim...were definitely preoccupied with something, tending to whisper between themselves and immediately going silent, scuttling away whenever they were caught together. Conner had also joined them, at various times. They had isolated themselves, and Conner had started snapping at Miss Martian- something that Bruce couldn't help but feel a bit proud. He never trusted anyone that could use mind control. J'onn proved himself, many times over, but M'gann...She was on thin ice.

 But outside of Conner finally understanding why dating anyone that could alter your mind was bad, he was still acting...lost. Not confused, but almost as if. 

He reminded Bruce of when he lost his parents. In the months after. The listlessness. The anger. Not the grief- the other emotions, the sense of losing a part of yourself and figuring out how to live without it. That was what Conner was acting, and Bruce really wished he could go out and explain how to help, but. Clark.

And then Dick disappeared, with Roy and Conner, again. They were assumed somewhere off-base, but the trackers didn't pick them up anywhere. They were gone for about a full day. No explanation. No reasoning. Just disappeared and reappeared with smiles on their faces and an entire apple pie that smelled exactly like a Ma Kent Pie. And Arsenal had a few more tricks in the explosion variety. Dick was tearing up a bit and started some sort of top secret mission that he wasn't involved in just yet.  

And then it was Roy, Tim, and Conner just disappearing and reappearing, suddenly becoming fast friends. All three of them were definitely more relaxed and agreeable to wherever they went. 

Oliver thought they were in a weird sex threesome. He privately thought it was drugs. 

He was in the middle of staging an intervention when Tim, Roy, and Conner disappeared again, and after a day and a half of nothing, of him concerned again, they all appeared with-

"What is that," he grounded out, startling at the thing dangling in the navel of his teenaged son's bare midriff. Because nineteen was still a teen, Timothy. A teenager that was still living under his roof. 

Timothy just blinked at him, rather innocently. "You mean the crop top or my new piercing?" he asked as he sipped a Boba drink. All three of them were drinking boba. And while Tim was the only one wearing a crop top, both Conner and Roy were wearing tank tops that had collars deep enough for Roy to flash his shiny new nipple jewelry. 

Roy Harper was smirking. Bruce could feel a migraine coming on. 

He let them on their way, and slept until Patrol.

And then there were the... stares. Suddenly, everyone wanted to stare at his barely legal teenage son, and his completely new wardrobe. Gone were the appropriate styled pants and hoodies and sunglasses- oh, he still wore them, but the hoodies seemed less like a proper jacket and more like an outfit, being oversized like that. And Tim had started wearing leggings. Leggings and oversized hoodies and high-top sneakers and fashion forward sunglasses. 

"I think I'm bisexual," he overheard Thirteen admit to Blue Beetle once, who just nodded furiously and admitted a change in his sexuality as well. Both continued to stare at Tim, who was wearing a mask and tight workout gear and continued to stretch in a way that was making his blood pressure rise and everyone else gape. 

Apparently, his child was, as Arsenal had growled to Static when he didn't realize Batman was behind them, "Grade-A Twink Material."

He could admit that he enjoyed nearly giving them heart attacks when he made his presence known. 

After one major investigation, and plying his eldest with alcohol and company, he found out the cause of this. This, being a portal to a different dimension, where apparently Tim wasn’t his son, but still a Robin, and was dating his blood son, and just-

The insanity went on. It was mildly horrifying. 

And apparently Conner had been unofficially adopted by the Lane-Kents of that dimension, while Tim, his Tim, his precious Tim, was going over and learning things from his counterpart. 

And Arsenal went too. To smoke weed. And learn about different explosions, but also to smoke weed. 

They smoked weed. 

He got everything packed for the mission the very next day. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected. 

Maybe something in which the anti-drug laws never came to pass, and it was a sort of futuristic 70’s universe. Maybe some sort of dystopian-nightmare inducing scenario in which they were being forced to smoke weed due to the machinations of Luthor or perhaps Ra’s al Ghul.  Maybe Joker became President, which he would admit, would make anyone just give up and start doing drugs.

He just wasn’t expecting this. 

This, being.

Well.

“Bruce,” Kate Kane looked at him, surprised. Selina Kyle was there as well, sipping at what looked like a regular glass of lemonade, and would probably be...a regular glass of lemonade, she wasn't that much of a day drinker. There was the counterpart of Dick Grayson, looking wildly between him and the Other Bruce Wayne. Five strangers, three girls and two boys, were looking at him with mild interest and wide smiles, mostly directed to his other counterpart.

... Actually, one looked to be an older version of Stephanie Brown. Interesting. 

His counterpart, one Bruce Wayne, just gave him a look of pure and utter annoyance. No surprise. No shock. A look that Dick once categorized as "I'm so fucking done" to him. 

"You're late," Wayne said. 

"What have you done with your life," He said. 

That caused the others to burst out into laughter. Selina smirked, giving him a wink as she ushered the five, and Grayson out. "I'll leave you for your little chat. Lovely seeing you Bruce, actual parenthood looks good on you." He couldn't help but feel pleased as she actually gave him a genuine smile, even more so as Wayne glared harder. 

As the door clicked shut, he turned to Kane and Wayne. "What the hell happened."

"He fucked up, that's what." Simple, blunt- God bless Kate. She hated frivolities. Wayne just grunted again. 

"I have...I know, actually, of the events of…" he paused, trying to parse the words. 

"The absolute fuckery that could have been avoided if your counterpart actually thought about people and not just his own inflated ego and maybe went to therapy?" Kane suggested. 

"Are you actually here for something? Or are you another one that just wants to yell at my life choices," Wayne demanded and. 

Bruce peered at the man. He looked exhausted. There was a sallowness to his skin, a sense of defeat in the man. He had noticed that Alfred, this Universe's Alfred, had yet to make an appearance. Kane was off to the side, peering at his counterpart with the same look she gave informers. 

It dawned on him that perhaps Wayne was aware of what he had done, what had happened. 

This was a man that had realized his actions, or lack of actions, that had completely lost control of the situation so badly, that he didn't know where to begin to change that. This was a man that knew he fucked up, and unable to rectify the situation. It felt, somewhat, to Bruce, almost like getting his back broken by Bane again. The helplessness of the situation, the numbness before it became pain. 

“What happened,” he asked. 

“You know what happened,” Wayne snapped. Kane's presence was gone, quietly slipped away as they both stared at each other. 

Yes he did. This was a man that fell. He dragged a chair over to face the man at the desk. “What happened,” he repeated. Because-

Yes, he was angry and horrified and a variety of other emotions that made him want to punch his counterpart, but he was also concerned. And worried. 

(If this man fell, what’s stopping him? What’s stopping him from making the same mistakes?)

And. Maybe it was his voice or actions, but Wayne just looked at him and- straightened up. His eyes gained some life back into him. And Bruce Wayne looked at Bruce Wayne, and started talking. About everything. 

He learned about Talia. About the- about how Talia had created a son between their DNA, about Ra’s al Ghul plan, about- 

About Jason. How Jason was alive and was probably being brainwashed by the League of Assassins, and he learned about Red Hood and how badly that went. He learned about Jason’s attempts of “removing the Replacement” of blood and death of-

Learning how everything became normal, or at least less bloodthirsty, that Damian entered the picture and tried to “remove” Tim all over again and when he thought he was finally getting through to Damian-

He got lost in the time stream. Everyone thought he died. Except Tim, loyal Tim-

And Dick, oh god Dick-

Wayne told him what he knew about Blockbuster. What he knew about Tarantula. And Bruce wanted to hold his son, because that never happened in his Universe, will never happen, he would fight the Gods before that, that, oh god, Dick-

Wayne kept talking and talking, and Bruce felt his blood grow cold because-

This man lost everything. He was right- Bruce Wayne fell in this dimension. He tried and he failed, he kept trying and things kept getting broken except he kept repeating the same mistakes, the same mistakes, Wayne admitted, that should have never been repeated. The same mistakes, when during a routine background check, it was discovered that Tim was never truly adopted by Bruce Wayne. He forgot. 

Wayne forgot about Tim a lot. 

And when Tim had went to Wayne- about Ra’s al Ghul apparent new “interest” in the lad, in Damian admitting his feelings he-Wayne- what he said to Tim-

Bruce punched Wayne. Hard. Blood shot out of the man’s mouth. 

“I deserved that,” the man muttered, touching his bottom lip and Bruce could barely hear him over the roar in his ears.

“You’re no father,” he spat, rage making his bones vibrate, as he stood tall and strong in front of him. “ You don’t deserve to be anyone’s father.”

“I know,” Wayne said. “I know.”

Bruce pushed back his cowl, wanting to fully look at the man. 

“You caused this!” he roared. “ You caused- all of this and you did nothing?” Wayne sat in his chair. “Why? You- there were multiple chances of stopping this and you did nothing?”

Wayne gave a bark of laughter, a slight hysterical tinge to it. “Ra’s al Ghul wanted to make Tim some sort of-concubine. Or worse. Do you know how it feels to know that the grandfather of one of your sons, leader of Assassins, wanted to- to- to have your child become some sort of sexual slave? To send ninjas, and presents, sex toy presents, and...and then, finding out your child have romantic feelings for your other child, because you failed so badly at parenting, that they never considered each other brothers in the first place, and somewhere along the way, you made it so that neither of them really trust anyone outside of this...family,” Wayne ran a hand through his hair. “Do you know how it feels when your child decides to magically bond himself to his friends, one of them sharing DNA with Lex Luthor, trusting them more than they do you?”

“Tim bonded himself with Superboy?” That caused him to rear back in shock. Even though he looked to be 16, Superboy was...they didn’t really interact, Superboy was closer to Dick, by far. 

“Tim bonded himself with Superboy, Wonder Girl, and Impulse of this dimension,” Wayne explained. “They’ve been friends since the beginning of Young Justice.”

“Explain this,” he demanded. “Because in my dimension, it was Dick who started Young Justice, not Tim.” Dick was always his bright boy, his boy that could look into the future and see hope. Tim was- he's serious. He's still his serious little Robin, strong strategic sense but still so quiet. 

"Different timelines, different- everything." Wayne settled back in the chair, eyes distant. "Tim was- he started it. He lied to me to start it- the Young Justice. That's what they call him, "The Robin who can lie to Batman," Wayne had a quirk to his lips, continuing on. "Tim has always- he's always fought for what he thinks is right, for what he believes in. He's...stubborn," there's a hint of a smile. "And yes, he's loyal, he's loyal to the Mission, to our cause...but if it was between me or his friends…" Wayne laughed, low and hoarse. "I've failed him too much now, to be considered. After all, Batman may always need a Robin, but Robin never needed a Batman." 

That sounded false, but this wasn't Bruce's dimension, so. 

"What about Damian?" Because how could he let-

"...I never saw him smile, like he does with Tim." And his voice, his voice. There's a helpless look in his eyes, a half smile. It's the same look that Bruce knows he gives to himself, at his sons every time they surprise him. "He smiles like her." 

And Bruce knew he wasn't talking about Talia. 

His mother's smile was something that he missed every day. It wasn't a perfect smile, a little crooked, a bit "too big" but he loved that smile, because when it was either directed towards him or Dad, he felt like he could do anything. It was reassurance, comfort, determination, love, all wrapped up into one smile. 

And seeing his parents smile at each other? Their own private smiles that as a boy he thought as "gross" but through the panes of rose-tinted memories he thought as "love?" It was no question watching either of them that Martha Wayne was utterly smitten with Thomas Wayne and vice versa. 

Bruce let himself fully collapse in the chair, uncaring of how it warningly creaked at him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he caught familiar blue eyes in his. 

"Okay," he said. "Let's figure this out."

“I don’t know this will work,” Wayne said. And it’s later. It’s later and the others have come back in, and listened to the man. 

"It's literally apologizing and saying that you will try and be a better father, and then actually back up your words with actions," Bruce retorted. "You're an adult. Deal."  Wayne hums and yeah, Bruce can see why that’s annoying. He kind of wants to punch his counterpart again. (He really wants to punch his counterpart again. He gets it now. Bruce Wayne is an asshole.) “Also, do you know anything about my Superboy counterpart visiting this world?”

“I am aware,” Wayne said, sipping at his tea that somehow appeared. “He’s gotten along with the Kent family of this world, and spends most of his time there.”

An eyebrow was raised. “And you allow this?” 

Wayne shrugged. “I tend to let Clark deal with his own family matters. Lois and Clark are very taken with the boy, and even Kon-el- our Superboy Counterpart, is platonically affectionate towards the lad. Clark and Lois want to adopt him.”

“That’s. Not possible?” Bruce cocked his head but Wayne just hummed again. 

“I'm pretty sure my Lois Counterpart is going to fight your Superman for the adoptive rights of Conner Kent," he doesn't even look shocked, just swirling the tea in his glass. Bruce heard Grayson start to choke before the door burst in and there was Grayson and the others yelling (it was more of excited yelling, like Dick did when he got excited), crowding around Wayne. Wayne did not move a damn muscle when the screaming happened, only gazing off into the distance as the black young adult and Brown started an intense debate about bets. Kane and Kyle saunter in, enabling the chaos. 

Bruce scoffed, rolling his eyes at their confidence that something that insane would happen. Lois was smart, and knew she was a human; even if she didn't have romantic feelings for Clark, he knew she wasn't going to try and fight a Kryptonian. He chuckled inwardly to himself.

Lois fighting Superman.

Like that would happen. 

And yet, somehow, this happened. 

He stared blankly as Lois Lane-Kent, Pulitzer Prize Winning Reporter, Tourist from another Dimension, is currently off to the side of the match ring, talking to someone that reminds Bruce of Talia, and he's pretty sure that's the blood son, his blood son. Or Wayne's blood son. Damian al Ghul Wayne. Grandson to that Universe’s Ra's al Ghul, who apparently is also interested in Tim. 

 Bruce's getting a headache. 

Damian-which is concerning that his name is supposed to mean "subdue"-  is talking to Lane, wrapping her hands and while he can't hear, he can read enough lips that he's positive that Damian trained Lane to fight for this. 

He has a feeling where this fight is going to go.

There are- others. Other Superman is serenely holding a boombox, looking giddy. Another boy, one that looks like a mix between Lane and Superman (is that- is that the counterpart of Jonathan?), is fiddling with a phone. And Four people that look to be the older counterparts of Superboy, Impulse, Wonder Girl and Robin are all wearing shirts that spell out "Lois" in big, bold black lettering. They're also holding pom-poms. 

Superboy and Wonder Girl fly up, waving their pom-poms.

"Gimme an L! Gimme an O! Gimme an I and Gimme an S! What's that spell? Lois! Lois!" They swooped down, and gathered the other two, somehow arranging it so that Impulse and Drake were on their shoulders, all four of them proudly showing off the "Lois" shirts. 

"Lois the best! She'll put him to the test! Lois! Lois!" Drake raised his pom-poms in the air, not even flinching at the glare Bruce was giving him. Actually, he really shouldn't be surprised- what Wayne did the boy probably made it that unless Batman did something even more drastic, not even an apocalypse could faze that Tim Drake now. 

...The other viewers are starting to chant as well, getting caught up. 

"You have to admit it's catchy," Diana muttered from the side of her mouth as the crowd roared the cheers and chants back to the four. 

"They're cheering for a woman to fight a Kryptonian," he muttered back. "It's ludicrous." He gritted his teeth as Lane and Superman stepped into the ring. Her hands were covered by black MMA gloves, his loosely wrapped in cloth. He had removed his cape, and that's it. She was wearing a mixture of kevlar and armor, just like a Bat. 

The Four had flown down, and Superboy had flown into the middle of the ring, procuring a microphone somehow. 

"Alright! Is everyone ready for a fight?" He smirked as the audience brought up a roar of cheers. 

"So the rules! One, no punches that can destroy internal organs! Two! No green Kryptonite! Three! No kill shots to the face! Four! Ring-touches don't count, but if you're stepped or thrown out, it counts as an out- and once you're out, you're out!" Superboy grinned. “Now, a word from our fighters,” he cheered as he thrust the microphone to Superman. 

Superman held up the microphone gently, giving her a warm (condescending) smile. "Ms. Lane, this is ridiculous, we can talk about this-" 

Superboy immediately grabbed the microphone, making exaggerated raspberries as everyone else started booing. 

Superman looked shocked. Bruce is feeling shocked as well, even more so when Lois grabs the microphone from Superboy.

"Look, at first I wanted to talk to you. To really rip you a new one about how you can't treat anyone like that, even if they're your genetic clone, and yes, you didn't consent. I had a speech planned out about how you should have at least gave him some sort of support system, instead of shutting him out and ignoring him." She paused. "But then I realized I really just wanted to kick your ass." And with that, she tossed the microphone to Superboy, going into a readying stance. 

Superman copied her movements. 

Bruce braced himself for a bloodbath. 

...That's when the music popped on. 

Familiar trumpets started blaring and- it was Rocky. It was the theme music of Rocky, what on Earth- 

Holy shit- 

Bruce watched as Lois Lane, Pulitzer-Prize Winning Reporter, Tourist from another dimension, proceeded to kick Superman's ass. She dodged his punches, letting his momentum indicate where to punch, where to move next, hit landing solidly enough that Clark was wincing. 

The gloves were lined, Bruce realized. They had to be lined with Kryptonite, to be able to make the alien bruise like that, but they said no Kryptonite, but. And nearly all of her moves were the same mixture of League/MMA he had his sons use. There was a heavier lean towards League than MMA, and- 

Superman was losing. He kept trying to punch her, wild and sloppy, and she kept dodging out of the way. He was half-assing it, Bruce realized. 

She wasn't. 

And it became really, really obvious when Lois Lane suplexed Superman into the ground. 

He didn't get up- knocked out cold. 

Dead silence. 

The cheers came up, loud and proclaiming. Everyone was screaming. Diana was roaring out praises to Lois Lane. Superboy had ripped open his shirt in a display of elation. Drake and Damian Wayne were hugging, as were Impulse and Wonder Girl. 

Lois Lane strutted over to her Superman, reaching up and pulling his head down to give him a long, hard kiss. She released him, turning back to where Conner was standing, eyes wide and hopeful. She turned to the stands. 

“This is my son,” she snarled, pointing at Conner. “And if anyone tries to take him away from me, I will obliterate your ass. ”  

“Oh I like her,” Diana laughed. He does not. Batman does not laugh, because Batman is currently having an existential crisis.

Bruce felt as if the world was turning on its axis. Already he can picture the sheer physics needed to make it so that Conner had access to that Universe and theirs. He watched as Tim- his own Tim, his quiet, serious Robin- rushed down to the “Core Four” and oh god, that’s a concern too. Tim has been spending time with them and learning things. Bruce knows, deep in his bones, that Tim is going to use Lois's win to his advantage, wanting to spend time with this strange, godforsaken Universe. He feels dizzy. He feels faint. 

A cool piece of metal touches his face; he lets his eyes go to the metal flask. 

"You're going to need this," Batman- Wayne- grunted from behind him. 

And Bruce Wayne, Batman, watching as Lois does a victory dance over the fallen Superman's body, grabs the flask, and takes a long, slow drink.