Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Don’t get him wrong, Tim’s actually really happy that Dick’s started to stop by Titans Tower more frequently to hang out. Instead of only interacting on cases and patrols, this new form of spending time together has allowed him to associated the dimpled, smiling face with a softer kind of smothering and worry than he’d previously been subjected to.

The older man is still beyond overbearing when it comes to letting him do any kind of patrol or confrontation on his own, but after Jason grabbed him and dragged him into a soundproof room to “talk” for over an hour, he’s even backed off on that front too.

None of that matters right now, though, because Dick decided to drop in unannounced at the same time Jason pulled one of his infamous “you’re not being paranoid enough, look at how easily I was able to break into the Tower” lessons.

Now, this wouldn’t be a problem, if Jason hadn’t still been in his Red Hood getup, infamous helmet on display as he crosses his arms and lectures them on the importance of not trusting their security cameras when they’re easily hacked to show looping footage, and how enough of their opponents can fly that it’s reckless to not lock every window that opens even if it’s on the nineteenth floor.

In a staggering display of very unfortunate timing, Dick enters the main room, clocks the crime lord who broke in, and launches himself at the perceived threat.

Tim’s teammates scatter with startled cries as the two men start rolling around, fists and elbows flying. Dick even breaks out his intimidation voice as he tries to grill Jason on what he’s doing here.

Fed up, Tim grabs one of his knives and chucks it at his oldest brother.

Startled, Dick catches it and leaves himself open for Jason to slip out of his pin. Taking the out, Tim’s other older brother shoves his hand in Dick’s face and pushes him back, getting his foot on the older man’s chest and kicking him away lightly.

“Robin, what are you doing?” Dick asks, voice tight.

“Ha, Baby Bird likes me better!” Jason taunts instead of clarifying anything, so Tim throws a knife at him, too.

Jason catches it, spinning the blade through his fingers before flinging it back with a dramatic flourish. “Good throw, use more force next time. It’s all about wrist movement.”

Rolling his eyes, Tim snatches the projectile out of the air and turns to Dick. Putting his hands on his hips, he asks, “Are you gonna give that back, or do you intend to keep it?”

Wordlessly, Dick darts his gaze between Tim and Jason, thinking. “That depends. Does he throw knives at you often?”

“Oh, all the time,” Jason says flippantly, because he loves making things worse.

“Nightwing, what the heck!” Cassie yells, recovering from the shock of said hero’s sudden appearance. “What are you doing?!”

“Trying to take down a violent criminal,” Dick responds, but even as he says it he sounds tired. He’s probably picking up on the highly protective vibes the Titans are giving off right now, and isn’t looking forward to telling them why their pet project is someone they should consider a villain.

Good. That should teach him to not throw himself into fights without gathering all of the relevant information first.

“Again? What happened between now and last week that made you lose your mind?!” Kon shouts, waving his arms to gesture at Jason. “He’s not a violent criminal!”

“He’s not violent towards us,” Bart clarifies.

“He just threw a knife at Robin! He’s wanted in Gotham for the murder of over fifty people!” Dick grits out, hands flexing around the knife grip.

“In Gotham?” Cassie asks. “You’re trying to tell me that he’s a Gotham criminal? Did you hit your head?!”

Tim can see Dick grinding his teeth in frustration. “Bright red helmet, leather jacket, liberally uses guns. The heights match, the speech patterns match, it all matches. There’s no way he isn’t –”

“It’s not like I could be anyone under this helmet or anything,” Jason drawls, taking out one of his guns so he can spin it around his finger threateningly.

“Everyone knows that Batman hates metas,” Kon adds, shooting a judgmental look at Dick. “Just because he’s from Gotham doesn’t mean he’s your murderer.”

“A meta?” Dick asks, thrown off guard.

Jason shrugs casually. “That’s what the kids tell me.”

“Dude, you pulled fire swords out of thin air,” Bart whines. “What else would you call that?”

“The product of a very in-depth, soul-searching meditation session,” Jason replies, and this is why Tim can’t stand him sometimes. His brother will say the wildest shit, completely deadpan, and it’s up to him to try and figure out if it’s a joke, a half joke, or completely true. It’s annoying, despite how many interesting rabbit-holes it’s led him down.

“Robin?” Dick swings towards him. “Is Red Hood a meta?”

Before Tim can respond, Cassie explodes. “You knew it was Red, but you still attacked him?! What the hell, man!”

“Red?” Dick gapes. “No, this is –”

Deciding to actually do something productive for once, Jason takes off his helmet, running a hand through his hair to get it under control as he smirks at their older brother through his domino. “Really, Big Bird, I’m hurt. I thought you were happy that I was back.”

“Little Wing?” Dick drops the knife in shock. “You’re Red Hood?!”

“Obviously, he’s a different Red Hood,” Cassie says, crossing her arms defensively. “Haven’t you been listening to us?! He’s a meta! He can’t go back to Gotham when Batman’s so territorial!”

Taking a step forward, Dick raises his hands to try and take the red helmet from Jason, who pulls it back childishly. “You’re a meta?”

Humming, Jason’s smirk widens. “Allegedly.”

Dick makes another pass at the helmet, and Jason holds it up over his head, out of the vigilante’s reach. Not one to be deterred, Dick jumps onto their brother and starts climbing, ending up wrapped around Jason’s arm, prying his fingers off of the “red hood”.

“He didn’t give me any solid answers when I asked,” Tim says, taking the juvenile antics in stride. “Though I did get a... decently convincing demonstration.”

Jason grunts, waving his arm around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I answered all of your questions. It’s not my fault you asked the wrong shit.”

Tim makes a disgusted sound at that, but decides that it’s better to simply ignore the two grown men acting like children. Turning to his team, he shakes his head. “They’re both morons.”

Bewildered, Cassie chews her lip. “So, we don’t have to worry about Nightwing and Red fighting again?”

Bart snorts, “There’s no way they aren’t gonna fight again. Not possible.”

“Shouldn’t we do something, then?” Kon asks, worried.

“No point,” Tim sighs. “It’s how they interact, since no one in this family knows how to communicate without violence. Best thing to do is leave them alone until they decide to start acting like adults again.”

“Baby Bird!” Dick cries out, hurt.

“I’m not even eighteen yet, give me a break!” Jason gripes loudly.

“What?!”

Cassie, Kon, and Bart all look completely floored. Tim can admit that even he had forgotten about just how old Jason actually is.

“But, but, you’re like, so old!” Kon splutters.

“You read Shakespeare!” Cassie joins.

“I thought you were, like, thirty!” Bart cries, landing the finishing blow.

Jason’s menacing growl is loud enough they can hear it over Dick's startled laughter, and the next half hour is spent running around the Tower, trying to hide from a very irritated seventeen-year-old. Any previous tension is completely lost.

...

Afterwards, Dick corners Tim in the ops center. The vigilante comes through the door, punching in an override code to temporarily lock it, giving them privacy.

Judging by the serious look on the older man’s face, he can tell that he won’t be able to mislead his way out of the conversation. With a sigh, Tim pushes back from the workstation, spinning to face his brother.

“Is Jason Red Hood?”

Time to misdirect. “Dick, what day is it?”

Dick puts his hands on his hips, making it clear that there had better be a reason for Tim’s line of questioning. “Monday.”

Shaking his head, Tim presses, “No, what’s the actual date?”

“The first. Tim, where are you going with this?”

“It’s April first, Dick,” Tim says, pulling out his phone and tapping the screen so it shows the date. “And you know how Jason is.”

Slowly, Dick arches his eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me that this whole thing was a joke? That I walked into him giving a lecture to you and your team while dressed up as the guy who stuffed eight heads into a duffle bag, with none of you surprised at his appearance, because Jason wanted to prank me?”

Tim shrugs, staring Dick straight in the eye. “I mean, if the shoe fits. Who am I to try and decipher what goes on in his head?”

Dick stares at him for a moment longer, but Tim refuses to break. He’s gone toe-to-toe with Batman, out-stubborning Nightwing is nothing.

As predicted, Dick folds. Scrubbing a hand over his suddenly tired expression, he hisses out a sigh. “While I can definitely see Little Wing doing something like that, it still doesn’t add up. I’m not going to try and arrest him, I just need to know why.”

“Then ask him, not me,” Tim snarks. “I’m not his PR manager.”

They stand in silence for a little bit, before Dick asks another question. “... is he a meta?”

Tim makes an unflattering noise of pure irritation, and Dick laughs.

Chapter Text

A redhead in a hoodie has invaded Titans Tower. Normally, this isn’t anything new – Red comes by often, and his sense of fashion has improved greatly since Cassie and the boys first met him.

This redhead, however, is not Red.

Instead, it’s just a scruffy dude with a chin full of patchy stubble and no sleeves. According to Robin, his Zeta code is GA_S01, which doesn’t mean anything to her other than confirming that it’s probably fine that he’s here.

When she leans over to him and says as such out of the corner of her mouth, he makes an annoyed sound, dragging his hand over his face. “He was Speedy, one of the Titians back when Nightwing and Donna were on the team,” he explains quietly, still keeping his attention on the frantic man’s journey up through the many levels in the stairwell.

“He doesn’t look very speedy,” Bart says, crossing his arms.

“Or smart,” Kon adds on. “Why didn’t he just take the – oh, he’s winded now. He’s stopping to rest, because he chose to go up the stairs in a building over twenty stories tall.”

Robin’s stopped paying attention, tapping at the computer before leaning over to the intercom system and paging in.

“Robin to Arsenal. If you get off at the next floor and take the second right, you’ll find the elevator. Stop by the main floor, we’ll meet you there.”

Arsenal (which is a much cooler name than Speedy, in Cassie’s humble opinion) startles when Robin starts the announcement, but spots the camera soon enough, giving a thumbs up after he finishes.

It takes him five minutes from there to actually get to the main floor. Elevators, truly marvelous inventions!

Anyways, Discount Bin Red doesn’t look any better in person – he’s panicked, eyes wide and fidgeting with impatience.

The first thing he does when he sees them, is call out, “Where’s Red Hood?!”

Cassie and her boys trade looks, confused. She thought that Red Hood was Red’s name, but then Nightwing said it was The Red Hooded Ninja. Then, he’d come in accusing Red of being someone called Red Hood, but he’d walked his accusation back after Red had taken off his helmet. Now there’s another guy coming in and asking for Red Hood? Is that their Red, too? If it is, why did Nightwing agree that they may not be the same person? Are there actually two Red Hoods, one of which is theirs, and the other is busy being a violent criminal in Gotham? More importantly, why does Red need so many names?! No wonder people are getting confused, since they’re all so similar! Jeeze!

Their second of hesitation is apparently too long for the guy, since he hones in on Robin and takes a step forward. “Robin! He’s a Gotham City crime lord, you’ve gotta know Red Hood. I need to find him, ASAP!”

“A crime lord?” Cassie asks, baffled. That’s even more far-fetched than the whole assassin thing (which actually turned out to be true, but that’s not important right now). “We don’t know anyone like that!”

“Why would a crime lord be in Titans Tower?” Kon asks, frowning in confusion. “Why would anyone from Gotham be on this side of the country? Don’t they usually keep their craziness to themselves?”

“Hey!” Robin says, frowning at Kon, who raises his hands immediately.

“I mean, excluding Robin, of course!”

Rob huffs quietly, side-eyeing Kon as he crosses his arms.

Arsenal makes a wounded sound. “You mean he’s not here? Shit, I have to find him. Oh god, what am I going to do?!”

“Arse, what the hell are you doing?”

Everyone turns to Red as he walks out of the kitchen, towel thrown over one shoulder, his red cloth mask and domino covered face turned in the new guy’s direction.

“Oh, thank god, I thought you weren’t gonna be here!” Arsenal gasps out, jogging over to Red.

“I thought you were looking for Red Hood?” Kon asks, scratching his head as he tries to make sense of the situation.

Arsenal pauses, looking back at him, confusion all over his face. “I was?”

Cassie points at Red, frowning. “But that’s Red, not Red Hood. He isn’t some Gotham crime lord, he’s just annoying.”

Arsenal looks at her blankly, even as Kon nods emphatically, agreeing with her. Bart’s too busy giggling at everything to back her up, and Robin’s decided to let her and Kon do all of the talking as he goes into “observation” mode. Whatever, she’s got this.

Slowly, Arsenal turns back to Red. “What? What’s happening right now?”

Red shrugs, but he’s got his hip popped out to the side the way he does whenever he’s feeling sassy. “Beats me. I may not be Red Hood the Gotham City crime lord right now, but I’ve got a red hood and I’m from Gotham, so that means I should still be able to help.”

Robin snorts under his breath in time with Bart. Wow, it must be so nice to be in on the joke. It’s not like Cassie and Kon wanted to be included, or anything.

Still looking like his brain has shut down, Arsenal’s frozen staring at Red. “Why –?”

Shaking his head, Red throws his arm over the confused man’s shoulders, dragging him over to the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it, dude. What’s up? You look like shit.”

“Thank fuck I found you. She just dropped off Lian, and I have no idea what I’m doing. What do four-year-olds even need? How am I supposed to...”

Their conversation fades away, but it looks like Arsenal (or Speedy or whatever his name is) is gonna be fine, with Red’s help. Still, she elbows Robin. “Are you sure he’s one of the good guys?”

Robin turns to her, surprise in his face. “Yeah, he had a bit of a rough patch with Green Arrow but it wasn’t anything that would get him blacklisted from the ‘good’ side of things. Why?”

Grimacing, she waves a hand at where he left to go beg help from their resident bother figure. “I mean, he came here looking for a crime lord, and it sounded like he was gonna try and ask that guy for help.”

Robin laughs, for some reason, but smiles sincerely. “Nah, he’s fine. Some crime lords aren’t completely terrible, all things considered. The one he was looking for has actually done a decent job at reducing crime rates in Gotham, in his own way.”

“Reducing crime rates as a crime lord?” Bart asks, tilting his head. “How does that work?”

“Fear and intimidation, mostly,” Robin replies matter-of-factly. “Murder, too, but he’s cooled down on that side of things lately.”

Kon makes a disgusted sound, then coughs in an attempt to cover it up. “Fricking Gotham, man.”

Robin rolls his eyes, turning his back to Kon. “Still better than Metropolis.”

Ugh, boys.

Chapter Text

See, the thing is, while Kon can hear a metric butt-load of stuff all the time, he’s also learned to tune most of it out, for his own sanity.

He’ll maintain that as his reason for being completely blind-sided when he comes downstairs one average Tuesday only to be greeted by the sight of Robin and Starfire sitting close together at the kitchen table, looking at something the vibrant woman is holding.

Stopping in his tracks, Kon panics.

Is Robin into colorful hair? Girls? The skimpy outfits? People older than him? Kon’s age is weird what with the whole clone thing – is that one of the reasons it’s been so hard to get Rob’s attention?

As he’s panicking, the Tameranian Princess raises her head and catches sight of him. She beams, waving a hand vigorously.

“Greetings, friend Super Boy! Are you also here to partake in the breaking of fast?”

Making himself smile through his nerves, Kon shuffles forward, taking a seat across from Robin. “Er, yeah! How’d you know?” Crap, that was terrible. ‘How’d you know’, maybe because he’d come to the kitchen in the morning, where people usually go for breakfast. Way to look super dumb in front of Robin, Kon.

On cue, Robin raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

Kon groans, burying his face in his hands. Ugh, this is awful. He wants to go back to bed.

Apparently taking pity on him, Robin reaches out to poke his arm. “Hey, do you want to see embarrassing pictures of my brother?”

Despite his early-morning humiliation, Kon smiles. Robin’s swap from something of a loner to constantly mentioning his brothers at any chance he gets has been slightly annoying, but an overall relief. He seems so much happier, now that Red and Nightwing have claimed him as one of their own.

Putting his palms onto the tabletop, he slants the smile into a grin. “Which one? Because I would pay good money for blackmail on Red.”

Robin snorts, and even Starfire laughs at that. “Nah, you’ll have to offer something I actually want if you want something that valuable. Nightwing, however, has plenty of embarrassing pictures that are already public knowledge. Have you heard of the disaster known as ‘Discowing’?”

What follows is a solid fifteen minutes of Robin and Starfire swiping through various pictures of the older hero’s many, many fumbles. In most of them, the black and blue clad hero whose success has become something of the ultimate reach goal for the younger generation is smiling brightly. It’s obvious that the man’s just as impossible to embarrass as Red is, but it’s still fun to sit and wonder at the sheer absurdity some of the situations depicted.

Eventually, Kon realizes that no one’s actually made any food yet, and looks around curiously. To his tablemates, he asks, “Did someone go out to get food? Are we waiting on anyone?”

Starfire answers, an amused smile curling her lips. “I approached the Tower in search of friend Red Hood, but Robin informed me of the lack of his presence at this location.”

Taking over for the bright hero, Robin continues, “I did tell her that Hood’s on his way, though, so she could definitely stick around and show me all of the dirt she has on ‘Wing while we wait for him to make us something to eat.”

Kon frowns, titling his head. “Red Hood again? Like, the guy from Gotham?”

“Indeed!” Starfire beams, nodding excitedly. “He is most aster, though I have not seen him in quite some time!”

Aster? What the heck is that, some Tamaranian word he doesn’t know? Wait, why does an alien princess know a random crime lord?! From Gotham?!

Turning to Robin, he tries to convey how much he needs answers using wide eyes and liberal amounts of confused facial expressions.

Robin laughs at him and keeps all of his secrets to himself.

“I have the most excitement for the experience of consuming friend Hood’s food once more!” Starfire continues, closing her fist and pumping it in the air.

Kon can relate – Red’s food is really good. Wait a minute, how does Red know an alien princess?!?! Oh, false alarm, he actually knows that one: they must have known each other back when Nightwing was on the Titans, since they’re brothers. Good lord, all of these crossing affiliations are giving him a headache, they’re so convoluted.

“I thought you knew better than to bring your ass into my kitchen, Kori.”

“Friend!” Starfire scoots back from the table and flies over to Red, fresh from his grocery-shopping trip, sweeping him into her arms for a back-breaking hug. “It has been too long!”

Red laughs and doesn’t even try to fight against the hug. Kon thinks his brain is melting at the sight. Does Red like her? Is that just a Robin-slash-brother thing, to like Starfire? Is Kon doomed to lose to fate? How does she do it?

Leaning over to Robin, he says, slightly tactless, “Man, it looks like Red’s got you on this one, Robin.”

Robin looks at him, completely confused. “What are you talking about?”

Gesturing at the floating pair now bickering with each other, he clarifies, “You know, Starfire! It looks like her and Red are pretty friendly, if you know what I mean.”

His friend makes a face that looks like Kon just suggested that he lick the railing of a public train station. “Absolutely not.”

“Is she not your type, then?” Kon asks, hope blooming once more. Maybe he doesn’t have to compete with a literal princess for Robin’s affections!

That hope is quickly replaced by sinking dread as a hand comes down on top of his head, Red’s voice drawling from right behind him. “Baby Bird’s type automatically excludes anyone who thinks that Nightwing is fuckable.”

Robin fake gags at that, glaring at Red. “Don’t even say that, I don’t want to be reminded of how many people I have to work with who think he’s attractive.”

Red laughs at that, still digging his hand into Kon’s hair. “If you want to limit your options that much, then be my guest. Say, Kon, what are your feelings on Nightwing and his highly acclaimed assets? Kori and my Replacement must’ve shown you the travesty that was Discowing by now, so I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say.”

Fuck.

Why did he ever think that Red would help him with this? Kon’s gonna die, and judging by the intense look on Robin’s face, it’s not even going to be the literal assassin who kills him.

Chapter Text

Cassie’s digging through the fridge looking for leftovers the first time it happens.

One second she’s leaning forward, a tub full of hummus in one hand and a bag of carrots in the other, and then she has nothing in her hands because someone tapped on her shoulder and scared the living daylights out of her. Consequently, the food went flying.

Whirling around, she’s met with the terrifying sight of something that looks like Batman, if he’d had the bottom half of his mask sewn on. She shrieks.

“Cassie?!” Robin runs into the kitchen, only to pause.

The girl, because the person who scared the crud out of her isn’t Batman at all, tilts her head and holds out the food she’d saved from Cassie’s unintentional attempt at juggling.

“Batgirl?” Robin asks, loosening his posture immediately. “Is there something wrong? Why are you here?”

In the softest voice imaginable, completely at odds with the terrifying mask she’s wearing, Batgirl says, “Brother.”

Robin frowns. “Nightwing’s back in Bludhaven this week, but I can track him down if you need me to.”

Batgirl pushes the food into Cassie’s hands, walking over to Robin to put her hand on his head and pat his hair. “Brother.”

Cassie’s teammate goes bright red, and stutters.

Huh, looks like Rob’s getting more siblings by the day. Cassie’s glad that he’s finally getting some of the love he deserves, even if she really hopes that this quiet bat-person never shows up again.

...

The second time it happens, the same situation repeats itself. Same with the third and fourth.

...

By the fifth time, Cassie just hands the other girl her own portion of the fruit slices she’s munching on as a post-training snack, offering a bowl of peanut butter in her direction that Batgirl also takes.

“Robin! Your sis is here for you!”

Robin shows up seconds later, out of breath. “BG!”

Greeting him with her signature head pat, the quiet intruder hums happily.

“Why...” Robin asks, still convinced that there have to be other reasons for his family showing up and saying hi to him.

“Brothers,” the vigilante says, also normal.

Hold on, did she say brothers? Like, plural?

“Brothers?” Cassie asks, catching the shorter girl’s attention.

Nodding at her, Batgirl mimes putting on a helmet. “Red.”

Squinting, Cassie crosses her arms. “Which Red? Because if you’re looking for that crime lord guy, you’re out of luck. We only have the dorky Red, here.”

Batgirl doesn’t say anything, staring in her direction. Cassie’s starting to sweat, but she doesn’t back down. “I’m serious. Just because our Red is from Gotham doesn’t mean he’s the same person. Sure, he’s kind of a jerk, but he isn’t a crime lord. He’s too much of a softie for that.”

“I’m telling Hood you called him a softie,” Robin says, the traitor. To Batgirl, he asks, “You know?”

She nods. “Nice, rude. Helped. Family – brother.”

That means nothing at all to Cassie, but Robin nods like he understands her cryptic message. “He should be stopping by on Saturday, if you want to see him.”

Batgirl nods, and Cassie sighs. Why is Red so popular?

...

The next time she sees Batgirl, the other girl is positioned on top of a grumbling Red, who tried to make a break for it the second he saw her.

The way she leapt onto his shoulders and took him down in less than a second was awesome, even if Cassie had been terrified that the other girl ended up mistaking their Red for her crime lord one.

Her fears are quelled in the next breath, when Batgirl fondly pats the top of Red’s head the same way she does for Robin every time she breaks in.

The duo rejoins Cassie and Robin on the couch, Red pouting the whole time. Batgirl doesn’t seem to mind, perched on the back of the sofa and running her fingers through his bright hair as if fascinated by the color. She’s looking over Red’s shoulder at the various pictures of food he’s scrolling through as they try to find something the masked girl is interested in.

Robin slumps up against Red’s side, falling asleep in seconds, and completes the adorable sight.

Sighing, Cassie stands up to go back to her room – she doesn’t want to play fourth wheel to their family time.

“Cassie?” Red asks, breaking off from his murmured descriptions of the dishes they’re looking at. “Where are you going?”

Turning, she shrugs noncommittally. “Just back to my room. You two look pretty busy, and I don’t want to bug you.”

Red frowns deep enough she can tell through his domino, but Batgirl’s the one who stands and reaches out for her. Confused, Cassie lets the other girl take her hand and guide her closer to Red. The Gotham vigilante pushes her down onto Red’s other side before retaking her position at the taller boy’s shoulders.

“Cassie. Thoughts?”

Mouth dropping open into a stunned ‘o’, Cassie flushes at the attention. This is the first time Batgirl’s called her by name. “You want to know what I think about the food?”

She gets a nod, and Cassie grins, feeling warm. “Well, I haven’t had a lot of the more interesting stuff on here, but I can describe the heck out of my feelings on mashed potatoes and hamburgers! Red, turn up the brightness on your phone, I can barely see anything!”

Chapter Text

Staring up at the tall, gray-skinned Superman dressed in a normal t-shirt and sweats, Kon slowly clenches his fist, preparing himself in case the guy attacks.

Is this Lex’s doing? He’d told Kon that he was gonna chill out with all of the weird cloning attempts.

The big guy opens his mouth. “Red Him, where?”

Not the threat he was expecting. Red him, that sounds kind of familiar...

Oh, great. Is inverse Superman here for Red? Where does that guy even even meet these people?! Sighing, Kon scrubs a hand through his short curls and switches tracks. “Red’s down in the training room with Wonder Girl. You wanna go see him?”

“Yes, don’t want to see Red Him.” The dude nods, looking expectant.

“Uh,” Kon says, “is that a yes or a no on seeing Red?”

“Yes.”

God, Red knows the weirdest people. “Follow me, then.”

Superman -2.0 nods and falls in line behind Kon’s back, trailing after him as they pass the huge hole in the side of their tower the big guy had busted through a minute ago. Internally, Kon winces at the thought of all the paperwork they’re gonna have to fill out explaining what happened before they can get if fixed. Ugh, tomorrow just got sucky, real fast.

...

Arriving in the re-enforced training room, Kon and his funky tag-along are greeted by the sound of arguing. There is, of course, another hole blown into the side of the room, because why wouldn't there be? At the source of the arguing a tall, red-haired woman is gesturing angrily at Cassie while Red stands off to the side, face in one hand, looking very exasperated.

Huffing, Kon thinks that it’s about time the man gets a taste of his own medicine.

“I don’t care if you think he’s not the right Red Hood, he needs to get his ass moving! We’re supposed to leave in four hours!”

“He doesn’t need to go anywhere, especially if he’s not the crime lord you’re looking for!” Cassie yells, heated. “Don’t just grab the closest guy and make him do your weird criminal things!”

“I don’t want the crime lord, I want the Outlaw! Since he claims to be the reason this team exists, it’s unacceptable that he hasn’t shown up for our mission!” The unknown lady bites back, looming threateningly. Oof, she’s tall!

Clearing his throat, Kon gulps when everyone’s attention snaps to him. “Uh, Red? I’ve got a friend for you?”

“Red Him!” the Superman knock-off cheers, sweeping over to grab Red in a hug.

“Biz, let me go!” Red yelps, kicking his feet. “Why are you here, too?!”

“Me followed Red Her. Don’t need help finding Stitch.”

At that, Red shoots what Kon’s assuming is a glare under his domino at the tall red-head.

The woman crosses her arms, unimpressed. “We wouldn’t have had to go searching for you if you had just been at the ship when you were supposed to be.”

“You texted me fifteen minutes ago,” Red grumbles as Biz puts him down. “And you knew I had shit going on today. Biz, Stitch isn’t missing, I grabbed him because I needed to sew his arm back on, remember?”

Biz makes a face of understanding as Cassie rounds on Red.

“You know these people?!”

Red sighs, acting like this isn’t all his fault. “Yeah. Cassie, Kon, meet the Outlaws. We’ve got Artemis, who will kick your ass, and Bizarro, the big guy.”

“Is "Outlaws", like, your team name?” Cassie asks. “Because I thought that she was asking for the other Red Hood.”

“It is, though if this small man continues to drag his feet, he won’t be a part of it anymore,” Artemis threatens, glaring right back at Red.

“You can’t do that!” Red yelps, pointing at her. “I was coming, I sent you a text!”

“I told you it was a time-sensitive lead that cannot wait until you finish playing around with your brats!” Artemis rebuffs.  “Now stop being dramatic. We need to go.”

“I’m not dramatic,” Red complains, but visibly gives in. “Cassie, I'm cutting our training short today - you’re gonna need to go through the rest of the forms on your own. I’ll be out of town for a bit.”

Bizarro reaches down to pick Red and Artemis up as Cassie starts up her offended response. As he starts moving towards their new, improvised window, clearly planning to take off, Kon remembers something.

“Hey!” Calling out, he waves frantically as Bizarro pauses. “Red, you’re gonna have to help us pay for the repairs, since your friends are the ones who busted up the Tower!”

“Jesus Christ,” Red mutters. “Fine! Once I get back, I’ll help with the paperwork!”

“And the funds!” Kon yelps, even as Bizarro takes off, a large gust of wind buffeting him and Cassie. “Red! Hey, Red!”

Chapter Text

Bart wipes the sweat off of his forehead as the gathered swarm of police officers cuff their latest villains of the week – only three of them, this time, thank goodness! It’d gotten a little bit dicey towards the end with some stolen alien tech, but Hood had swooped in and saved their bacon with his singularly timed rubber bullets.

Taking the downtime to stretch out his legs, he takes a look at the destruction around them. Not too much was damaged this time – Larry, Curly, and Mo (as Robin referred to them after they showcased their overall incompetence) turned out to be just a couple of disgruntled, disillusioned dudes with access to technology they really shouldn’t have been able to get their hands on.

There are chunks of the sidewalk missing and a couple of cars got dinged during the wild goose-chase the dudes had led them on while they fled the pharmacy they’d tried to rob, but that’s pretty much it. Bart’s proud of just how far they’ve come in terms of not accidentally blowing anything up, or setting things on fire less accidentally! This is progress!

The mid-afternoon sun is warm on Bart’s shoulders, cutting through the slight late-spring chill easily. Smiling proudly to himself, he glances around to take stock of how his friends are doing after some light crime-fighting.

Robin and Kon are giving their statements to the police, who’ve been way more willing to work with them than Bart ever expected the first time he’d picked up this legacy hero gig. Cassie’s a little bit behind them, leaning against the wall of a building with Hood at her side, fussing over where she’d been clipped by the weird energy guns the dastardly trio had been wielding. She’d assured them that she was fine, but that clearly hasn’t stopped Hood from freaking out – the guy worries about the weirdest things, sometimes.

The officers Rob and Kon are talking to keep getting distracted from their note taking, shooting looks over at Cassie and Hood for some reason. Edging closer, Bart perks his ears up, on the lookout for a sign that anything else might be going wrong.

“...Robin?” The shorter officer asks, her voice hesitant as she takes the flash drive of evidence the young vigilante hands her.

“Yes, Officer Rodriguez?” Robin replies, politely curious.

Nervous, she glances at her partner who looks just as unnerved as she does. Swallowing visibly, she lifts a shaky hand and points over Robin’s shoulder at their other teammate and resident bother figure. “Is that... is that the Red Hood?”

Blinking, Bart tries to remember what Hood could have possibly done to merit that kind of reaction from cops who live on the other side of the country from Gotham.

“Pardon?” Robin asks, still as unflappable as ever.

“Red Hood,” the other officer speaks up, his voice wavering slightly. “Like, the guy who cut off a bunch of heads and is on the FBI’s Most Wanted list?”

Oh, that’s what Bart was forgetting! Yeah, that would probably do it. These guys look totally wigged out by Hood just kinda... hanging out with them.

“I must confess, that sounds unlikely,” Robin says, smooth as hell. “Red’s been an auxiliary member of the Titans for a few years, by now. I realize the hoodie and mask he uses to protect his identity may cause him to bare an admittedly close resemblance to the Red Hood’s reported appearance, and completely understand your concern.”

“So, he’s not Red Hood?” Rodriguez asks hesitantly.

Robin raises an eyebrow at her, and Kon steps in. “Do you really think we’d let a dangerous criminal just walk around, potentially endangering everyone they come across?”

“Of course not!” the other Officer says, laughing awkwardly. “We just, wanted to make sure! In case we had to call it in, to keep everybody safe.”

“I assure you, we’re all perfectly safe from Red,” Robin swears, then pauses. “However, I would not recommend you or your partner talking to him without one of us present. To be frank, Officer Jeffries, he doesn’t have the best opinion concerning law enforcement officials.”

That seems to help settle the officers’ nerves, and the rest of the mission clean-up goes normally.

Bart wants to whistle at just how smooth Robin was, but the other boy turns to make direct eye contact, shooting him a knowing look while he shakes his head. Damn, sometimes it feels like Rob can read minds!

Now that Bart’s thinking about it, this is the first time anyone other than the people they save has gotten a good look at Hood. Or, like, them and Hood’s random assortment of friends-slash-family. He wonders if the whole “isn’t he that one violent criminal” thing is gonna get asked a lot. Or, well, asked more than it already has been.

Chapter Text

Dick’s been sending pictures of himself to the Titans groupchat. This isn’t unusual, and Donna generally takes time to laugh at whatever silly antics he’s been getting into, but as of late, he’s posting photos of himself in Titans Tower.

This, again, isn’t weird, since she knows just how overprotective the man can be – especially with his Robins. What is surprising, is the amount of food present in his pictures.

Whenever a table of some kind is in the frame, there’s always either a full-blown meal or various snacks on it. Donna’s no food snob, but she can tell that it’s all either homemade, or from one of those expensive organic type stores that sell fake homemade stuff.

It’s a stark turnaround from what she remembers the norm to be, back when their gang lived at Titans Tower – if the kitchen wasn’t on fire, it was full of pizza boxes or various take-out containers they’d ordered.

Curious, she’d texted him to ask for clarification, and he’d replied that his little brother is good at cooking.

She hadn’t expected it of the newest Robin, but then again, she also didn’t think that Jay would be good at cooking either. Can’t base the sequels off of the original, she supposes.

Dick’s constant flaunting of nostalgia and good food reminds her of when she and Cassie would hang out, the younger girl clinging onto her as she ran through the Tower in a game of tag with her teammates, or practicing how to fight together.

It’s been far too long since she’s gone and seen the blonde, Donna decides. If she can manage to snag some of this amazing food Robin apparently makes, then that’s even better.

...

After calling ahead and making her way over via the closest Zeta tube, Donna’s met with an ecstatic Cassie who’s more than willing to give her a run-down of the various changes the girl’s team has made to the Tower since her last visit.

Cassie looks like she’s doing well, full of energy and wearing a smile so bright she has to wonder if the girl’s been hanging out with her Super-teammate too much.

As they make their way up through the various floors, Cassie gushes about her new skills with the Flame Sword, how she and the boys have been making names for themselves with their various missions, and the different pranks they’ve played on each other recently. There’s way less mess than Donna had been expecting from four teens living together, but she guesses that one of the boys must just be really neat, since Cassie rolls her eyes when Donna questions it.

Eventually, they make their way to the main level, Cassie in the middle of an action-packed re-telling of their latest alien invasion. On the couch that’s somehow survived this long, is Robin and Superboy, the former wrapped up in the blanket she thought they would have gotten rid of as soon as possible. It’s what she had done, taking it to the Tower and abandoning it at the first opportunity – it had been a gift, so she couldn’t throw it away without risking the wrath of the gods, but she’d planned carefully and done her best to rid herself of the detestable thing in other ways. Cassie’s loud sound effects wake up the sleeping vigilante, the boy jerking to awareness before looking down at his entrapments and scowling.

Trapping a chuckle behind her closed lips, Donna smiles at the sight. Looks like the old thing hasn’t lost any of its “charms”.

“Sorry, Rob,” Cassie apologizes. “I got a little carried away, there.”

“You’re fine, I needed to wake up anyways,” Robin says groggily, trying to rub at his eyes through his domino and pouting when it doesn’t work.

“That’s not what I heard,” Superboy says, leaning over and poking at Robin’s cheek. “You’ve only been out for six hours, and need at least two more before your sentence is up.”

Baring his teeth at the other boy, Robin says flatly, “I will stab you.”

Unconcerned, Superboy snorts. “Good luck, I know you don’t have anything that would be effective against me on you right now.”

Robin makes an unhappy noise and shuffles around like he’s going to get up, only to get into a tussle with Superboy, who’s apparently trying to keep him on the couch.

Cassie leans over to Donna, who bends down so the younger girl can whisper in her ear, “They do this all the time. It was cute at first, but now it’s starting to get annoying.”

“Cassie!” Superboy calls out, sounding embarrassed and betrayed. Robin takes advantage of his distraction and pulls an acrobatic move to get off of the couch that Donna fondly remembers Dick attempting to teach her and the rest of their team.

“Hey!”

Quickly shucking the blanket off of his shoulders and into his arms, Robin tilts his chin up in a challenge. “I’m just going to get a snack. Unless you’re going to try and stop me from eating a healthy, balanced diet? Again?”

“That was once! And I didn’t even mean it!”

Donna breaks, laughing at their antics as Cassie perks up. “Oh, are the snacks ready?”

Shrugging, Robin responds, “Not sure, but I’m not about to stay trapped on the couch if I have a reasonable excuse to escape.”

“So you admit it’s an excuse!” Superboy calls out triumphantly.

“Still doesn’t mean you won’t get another lecture if you try and stop me,” Robin immediately hits back, making the other boy groan loudly.

“Another lecture?” Donna asks, confused. She thought that the person in Cassie’s team that took on the role of “responsible adult” had been Robin, but it sounds like he’s one of the kids being rallied? Is their mom friend actually the Speedster?

“Yeah, last time Kon laughed at Robin for not finishing his food, he had to sit through a two-hour lesson on nutrition and how important it is for normal humans. Do you want to see if we’ve got anything good in the kitchen? Bart helped out, but he’s actually not that terrible if you manage to keep him on track.”

Well, even with that ringing endorsement, Donna did tell herself that she wanted to try the food Dick’s been posting about non-stop. Agreeing, the two girls join Robin as he stalks over to the kitchen, Kon trailing behind them dejectedly.

The space is warm and bright, overhead lights turned up to full strength. The smell of baked bread and onions fills the air, and the fluffy-haired Speedster is quietly talking a mile a minute to the room’s other occupant.

Donna frowns. She didn’t think that anyone else would be visiting the Tower today, and even though the broad shoulders of the man in front of her are vaguely familiar, she can’t pin down where she knows them from.

Robin sneaks behind the unknown person, getting close enough to jump up and make a valiant attempt to strangle them with Donna’s blanket.

“Um?!” Donna makes a startled noise, but Cassie just laughs, unconcerned.

With calm movements, the man dislodges Robin and untangles the blanket from his neck. Surprisingly, he takes a moment to drape the golden fabric around his shoulders before turning around and putting his hands on his hips, doing a fantastic job at expressing just how unimpressed he is with what looked like an assassination attempt without showing any facial expressions.

Startled, Donna pushes up to the balls of her feet, moving in front of Cassie slightly. The clothes are different, but she can recognize that crazy ninja they’d fought with years ago. Dick had been tearing his hair out after the confrontation, obsessively going over all of the footage he’d had of the fight in a futile attempt to pick up on any clues he may have missed.

Behind her, Cassie groans and reaches out to tug on the back of her shirt. “Not you, too! He’s not the Red Hood you’re thinking of!”

“Red Hood?” Donna asks, the name only bringing up memories of Dick’s infrequent rants over Batman keeping information from him regarding a new player over in Gotham – not relevant right now. Towards the guy wearing her blanket, she questions, “Aren’t you that crazy ninja from hellmurder island?”

“Allegedly,” the man who’s almost definitely a ninja says, and that’s a change. He talks now?

“What are you doing here?” Donna asks, tone hard. He hasn’t made any attempts to injure Cassie and her friends yet, but she’s not about to guess at what an actual assassin is thinking.

“Stealing bread,” the man replies, reaching over to the counter and swiping a plate of flat looking bread.

“No!” Cassie, Bart, and Kon cry, sounding outraged.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Robin says confidently.

This is all way too friendly for a first meeting: the kids have to know this guy. “Who are you?”

The ninja looks at her, and she spares a second to be grateful that he’s swapped out his creepy goggles for a more normal domino mask. “Prisoner 24601.”

Robin snorts, but Cassie and Bart look confused. Cocking his head to the side, Kon pipes up, “Isn’t that from a movie?”

“Jean Valjean here probably pulled it from the book, but yes,” Robin says, full of mockery.

“They made a movie?” the guy who’s probably neither an escaped prisoner nor named Jean asks, immediately distracted from trying to intimidate Donna. “How? That book is over five hundred thousand words long. It must have been a terrible adaptation!”

Kon shrugs, reaching out to try and swipe the bread away from the strangely normal ninja. “I don’t know, I think it got decent reviews? I only watched it because Rob wanted to.”

“I didn’t want to watch it,” Robin argues, using Red’s movement as he pulls the bread away from Kon to grab it for himself. “I had to do a book report on it, and didn’t want to sit through, what was it? Five hundred thousand words?”

Abandoning the plate now that it’s empty, the ninja rounds on Robin, full of offense. “You watched a movie adaptation because you didn’t want to read the book?!”

Donna watches on in awe as the two trade scathing remarks with each other, their insults getting more convoluted by the second.

Cassie steps away from Donna’s shadow to take the bread from Robin now that the other teen is fully invested in defending his opinion that movies based on books are better than the original media, snagging the plate the ninja abandoned as well.

Skipping back, she beams up at Donna, unconcerned. “They’ll be at it for a while, but the good news is that the food’s ready! It looks like we’ve got fancy bread, today.”

“It’s foccaia! Foctacha? Foot-coach-ah?” Bart pops up at Donna’s elbow, trailing off uncertainly as he tries to get his pronunciation right. “Anyways! It’s better warm, so we should probably try and eat it now!”

“Shouldn’t we be worried about whether or not Mr. Ninja poisoned it?” Donna asks, even though she’s pretty sure she knows what reaction her caution is going to get her.

On cue, Bart and Cassie heave out massive, world-weary sighs.

“No, he makes us food all the time,” Cassie says, looking pained to explain what, in her mind, must seem so easy to understand.

“I helped him make it, I can promise we didn’t poison anything!” Bart declares, making direct eye contact and frowning until Donna nods at him.

It’s not exactly what she expected, but it really does seem like these guys know the elusive ninja better than Donna’s own team ever did.

“Well then, who wants to grab a knife so we can cut this into pieces?” She asks, rolling with the punches. The two immediately brighten when she doesn’t try to convince them they’re wrong.

“Oh, we don’t have to worry about that,” Cassie says, waving at Robin and Red’s increasingly heated argument that only Kon’s willing to stand close to.

“With the way they’re going, the knives are gonna be coming out any second now,” Bart completes Cassie’s statement, nodding seriously.

“Knives?” Donna’s voice goes slightly high – she thought that the ninja wasn’t threatening them!

“Yep!” Bart laughs. “Sweet, here comes the first round! I’ll snag one!”

The burnet blurs for a second as Robin pulls out a set of throwing knives, chucking them at not-Jean who does little more than laugh as he catches them and sends them hurtling back. A blink later, and Bart’s back, holding one of said stabby projectiles.

“I made sure it wasn’t poisoned, this time! Now, let’s dig in!”

Staying quiet as the two teens split up the flat loaf of bread, Donna wonders at the situation she’s found herself in. Cassie and Bart seem perfectly content amongst the chaos, Kon standing a little closer than she would feel comfortable with and staring at the battling pair. Not-Jean and Robin are undoubtedly violent, but she can’t for the life of her see the knife fight as anything other than two siblings squabbling.

Cassie hands her a piece, and she takes it without hesitation. “Do we want to try and pull Superboy away before he gets hurt?” she asks idly.

Snorting, Cassie shakes her head. “Nah, let him pine. I don’t want to have to deal with his sappy butt when he gets that look on his face.”

Donna snorts, bending to the girl’s judgement as she bites into her bread. The taste hits her tongue, and she blinks, stunned.

“Oh my god, this is so good!”

“Thank you!” Bart grins, only for Cassie to swat at him easily.

“You know that Red does all of the actual hard work when it comes to cooking,” she chides, cheeks puffed out with her own large bite.

Frowning, Donna swallows so she doesn’t talk with her mouth full again. “Wait, I thought Nightwing’s brother was the one cooking everything?”

The two blink up at her, startled. “He is?” Bart replies, unsure.

“But you just said that Ninja Man’s the one who cooks,” Donna explains, looking for clarification.

“That’s because Red is Nightwing’s brother, too,” Cassie says, blowing Donna’s mind. “The only time we trust Robin in the kitchen is to make coffee, or if he’s reheating Red’s leftovers with help from Bart.”

Donna’s mind is blank. What? Dick has another brother? His brother is that ninja he was obsessed over a couple years ago? “They’re brothers?!”

“Yeah,” Cassie shrugs, “apparently Red died for a little bit, but he’s back now. Him, Robin, and Nightwing are definitely brothers.”

Died? Is good at cooking? Whipping around, Donna squints, spotting the “kiss the cook” apron Roy had gotten Jay as a joke the second time the kid managed to make something in the Tower’s kitchen without setting anything on fire. Dick refused to throw it away, afterwards. They’d all collectively agreed to hide it deep within one of the many kitchen drawers they never used to keep him from crying every time he saw it.

“Jay?!”

Jay flips over an irate Robin in a move that is so blatantly familiar she wonders how she could have possibly missed the connection before, and waves her off. “I’m a bit busy right now! Bug Dickface if you want answers!”

Gaping, Donna stares at what used to be the cute kid that followed his grumpy older brother around everywhere he went. Oh, she’s gonna bug Dick for answers, alright. Why didn’t he tell any of them Jay was back?!

Chapter Text

When a weird chime goes off in the ops center, Cassie’s momentarily distracted from typing up her report on today’s (very successful, you’re welcome) mission.

“Is that a doorbell?” She asks, puzzled. “Do we have a doorbell?”

“Sure sounds like we do,” Bart says, mouth full even though there’s a strict ‘no food allowed in the ops center’ policy.

Cocking his head to the side, Kon closes his eyes as he concentrates on listening to something the rest of them can’t hear. “I don’t know about a doorbell, but there’s definitely someone standing at the ground entrance. Rob, do you have anything?”

“Yeah, give me a sec,” Robin says, pulling up security footage and throwing it up on the large screen so all of them can see. Everything looks normal, the door area clear of debris or other obstructions, clean white stone glaring slightly in the bright afternoon sunlight. There’s an old dude in a three-piece suit standing primly in front of the camera, his domino-covered face lifted so he’s looking directly at the camera.

Robin gasps, pressing the button to unlock the door immediately. Switching to the intercom, he broadcasts, “Agent A! Come on in, we can meet up in the main living area. My team and I will be there in five minutes, I promise.”

The old dude nods at his announcement, primly entering the Tower and unhurriedly making his way over to the elevator.

“Who’s invading the Tower now?” Kon groans, slumping in his seat. “This is getting old, I’m gonna be honest with you guys.”

Bart vibrates in excitement. “Oh my god, is that the Agent A?! Holy cow, this is so cool! I didn’t think he was actually real!”

Before Cassie can add her two cents in, Robin stands up, trying to herd them out of the room. “We need to get a move on! Oh no, did we clean? Is the living room neat? Do we have enough food in the fridge? We aren’t ready for this, why wasn’t there any warning!”

Pushing them into the hallway, he stresses, “Come on, we need to get ready! Agent A will know if we just half-ass things!”

“Who’s Agent A?” Cassie asks, getting dragged along by her jittery friend. “Is he really that big of a deal?”

Spinning around to face her, Robin makes direct eye contact. “He’s the one who raised Batman. I’ve seen him stare Batman down, and B blinked first.”

“Okaaay?” Cassie says, still not quite understanding the full depth of meaning behind that particular piece of Gotham Lore ™.

Clicking his tongue disparagingly, Robin abandons his pretty sad attempts at getting them to understand why he’s freaking out over this old dude. Instead, he shoots down the stairs, acting like his own cape is on fire with how fast he’s running. After a second of hesitation, the rest of them follow suit.

They burst into the main floor, and he immediately points at different things, glaring at them. “Kon, you need to organize the books left on the table. Cassie, for the love of everything, please take your jacket back to your room. Bart, grab the broom from the closet – there’s dust everywhere, and we can’t let Agent A know we live like this. Hood!”

“What?!” Red calls back from the kitchen, muffled.

“Agent A is here!”

Red curses sharply and there’s a loud clatter, like he dropped a pan. Seconds later, the taller man appears in the doorway. “Shit. You’re sure?”

Nodding, Robin checks his watch. “We’ve got three minutes before he reaches us. Hood, if you even think about ditching me here all alone, I will rat you out to N and BG. You will never know peace for as long as you’re on earth.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Red tries, but it falls flat.

Stalking up to the other, Robin shoves a finger in his face. “Fucking try me. I bet you weren’t even planning on cleaning up the kitchen before jumping out of the window.”

Tellingly, Red stays silent.

“That’s what I thought. Stop being such a baby, Hood. This is Agent A – I thought he was your favorite.”

Red mutters something that has Kon choking on air. Leaning over to her teammate, Cassie elbows him, hissing, “What did he say?”

Kon leans in, cupping his hand and whispering back, “That Agent A’s his grandpa!”

Cassie’s eyebrows fly up her forehead. That proper old dude managed to somehow help create the enigma that is Red?

“You three, get your asses in gear!” Red yells, startling Cassie and the boys. “Alfie’s gonna be here any second, and the place is a mess! Kon, fix the fucking table! Bart, sweep this shit up, there’s gotta be weeks’ worth of dust on these floors! Cassie, if you don’t put your goddamn laundry away I will throw it out of the fucking window!”

Ugh, whyyyyyy.

Cassie grumbles under her breath, shooting a venomous look over her shoulder at the fretting Red. She does get to see him shove Robin towards the elevators with an admonishment about “just leaving him to come up here on his own, do you know how much shit he’ll find if you don’t keep an eye on him? Come on, I thought you were trying to make it look like you can take care of yourselves here! Go, run damage control before it’s too late”.

Grabbing her jacket and trudging up the stairs to her room, she rolls her eyes. The way they’re freaking out so much about this is just ridiculous.

By the time she gets back to the living room, everyone’s awkwardly sitting around the now neatened coffee table, a cup of tea in front of their chosen seat, and a waiting cup for the space next to Bart on the couch. The old dude is standing next to a chair that Red’s pulled closer, and she can hear a clear British accent as the two quietly talk about whether or not he’s going to sit.

She leans over to Bart after flinging herself onto the couch behind her designated teacup. “Has Red secretly been British this whole time?”

“Nah, I think it’s just Agent A who talks like that,” he says, shaking his head.

Before Kon or Robin can chip in, the old dude concedes to Red’s pestering, taking a seat on the very edge of the chair with a back straighter than a steel bar.

He nods at them. “I do believe this our first time meeting. It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of Master Robin’s young teammates.”

“Hi!” Bart chirps, waving. “I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s so cool to actually see you in person!”

“Hey,” Cassie says, unenthusiastic.

“Hello,” Kon smiles nervously, wringing his hands before shoving them under his legs. What’s he so worried about, all of a sudden?

“Not that you can’t come here, because we love seeing you, and you’re always more than welcome to stop by, but, uh...” Robin starts, trailing off. “Why did you decide visit today?”

The old man inclines his head at Robin, reaching out to take a sip of his tea before responding. “The purpose of my visit is multifaceted. I wished to see how you were doing, as it has been a while since you returned to visit, outside of work matters. At the same time, it would be most efficient to also make the acquaintance of your young friends. Finally, there was an article I needed to deliver to Master Hood.”

“To me?” Red asks, startled.

Agent A nods primly. “Indeed, sir. I must say, your talent for making tea has vastly improved.”

Red’s face flushes immediately, blush climbing up to his forehead and ears in seconds, and Cassie’s stunned at how quickly the eternally cocky man turned bashful. Is this why Robin’s so scared of his grandpa?

The old man reaches into the satchel he’s wearing and pulls out something dark. Red takes it hesitantly, holding the gift as though he thinks it might break if he breathes wrong.

“It’s come to my attention that the Red Hood is still young, and has no doubt outgrown the clothes he first wore when he returned to Gotham.”

Red freezes, and Cassie lets out a loud sigh. “He’s not your crazy crime lord!”

“Cassie!” Robin and Kon both hiss at her, eyes going wide as they look at each other after.

“No! This guy is apparently Red’s grandpa, and even he thinks Red’s some big-shot criminal who runs, like, a gang or something! It’s ridiculous, he’s just Red!”

Agent A turns his attention to her politely. “Might I ask what you mean by that, Miss?”

She gestures at Red’s nervous stance. “You know, he’s him! Red’s way too soft to be some hardened mega-criminal! He spends all of his time here with us, he couldn’t possibly be running some criminal empire at the same time. Plus, there’s the whole meta thing.”

The older man stays quiet, thinking over her words as he sips at his tea. “An interesting argument, to be sure. Master Hood, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Red avoids eye contact, looking around the room in an obvious display of guilt. “I may be able to summon some cool swords, now.”

“And the situation we currently find ourselves in?” Agent A hums, still calmly looking at Red, who fidgets.

“It’s a learning opportunity,” he eventually manages to say, sounding unreasonably guilty.

Agent A turns to give Robin the patient stare of doom.

Robin immediately does the same thing Red did, squirming in place before breaking after a few seconds of silent observation. “It’ll be good for them?” His tone makes it sound more like a question, than anything.

Cassie’s starting to get a feel for why these two were so freaked out about this guy – she has no idea how he’s doing it, but he’s got two of the stupidest, most stubborn people she knows crumpling like wet paper the second he looks at them. It’s mad impressive, even if she’s still annoyed that he’d think the worst of his own grandson. At least it seems like he’s trying to be supportive, instead of judgmental?

“A lesson they certainly won’t be thankful for, no matter how much it improves their critical thinking,” the old man says, tone mild despite the disapproving words. Both boys flinch, looking chastised.

“’M not going to tell them until they figure it out,” Jason says, glancing over at the British dude in a pale imitation of his usual defiance.

“I was not demanding you to do anything of the sort,” Agent A says primly, “merely informing you of the potential consequences for your actions.”

Both Red and Robin are quiet, and eventually the old dude sighs softly.

“I’m gonna try this on,” Red mutters, ducking out of the room.

“Coward,” Robin mutters under his breath, but smiles like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth when Agent A turns to give him a disapproving look.

They spend the next couple of minutes stiltedly recounting the mission they’d just gotten back from – the old guy is very polite, making quiet noises whenever they pause their story for his input, and even asking after their health and complementing some of their decisions throughout. It’s kind of wild, for a no-kidding adult to be so supportive of them, and Cassie finds herself hoping more and more that Robin and Red’s grandpa likes her despite her initial reservations about the dude.

Eventually, Red comes back – he’s wearing a new set of dark armor under his usual sweatshirt, which Cassie’s assuming is what his grandpa gave him.

It fits nicely, and only now does she realize that the sleeves of Red’s old shirt have been getting short. More eye-catchingly, there’s a large stylized bat on the chest, the red almost matching the hoodie Cassie gave him.

Agent A nods decisively. “A much better fit. I must insist that you wear this from now on, regardless of who you claim to not be. I refuse to let one of my charges go out without proper protection when I am in the position to assist them.”

Red ducks his head, shy, and nods to his feet. Quietly, he mumbles out, “Thanks, Alfie.”

It’s sweet, Cassie guesses, giving Red something to remind him of the family he’s had to leave behind because of Batman’s prejudice against metas. She hasn’t really thought about it until now, but it must really suck to not be able to go back home to your brothers just because your old boss decided he doesn’t like your sweet new fire swords.

Making up her mind, Cassie vows to herself that she’s gonna try her best to make sure Red doesn’t feel left out of anything, when he’s in the Tower.

Chapter Text

Superman finally remembered that Kon exists, and for some reason, Tim’s friend has decided that he wants to try and talk with the man.

Tim understands father figures and the issues some people can have with the people who fill that role in their life; he’s read plenty of papers covering that subject online.

He gets that, even though Clark Kent has been a poor excuse of a DNA donor in the past, his friend is willing to give the reporter another chance because Lois Lane reached out and said that she made Kent promise to be on his best behavior. It’s all because of an emotional attachment to ‘what ifs’ and potential scenarios where their meet-up doesn’t consist of forty minutes of awkward staring, seven lines of stilted dialogue, and three insults hurled at each other with increasing vitriol.

He gets it. He also understands that it’s going to be a major pain to deal with the fallout afterwards, and he doesn’t trust Kent to not be an asshole to his best friend, so that’s why he decided to join the two on their lunch outing – as a chaperone, of sorts.

When he’d told the Titans about his plan, Kon had gone beet red before agreeing. At the same time, Cassie had rolled her eyes in disgust while Bart mouthed “chaperone” at him, doing finger quotations and putting as much disbelief into the action as he possibly could.

The only unknown in this situation that has Tim concerned, is Hood. Jason had taken the news of Tim’s plan for Kon’s ill-fated meeting quietly, humming as though only mildly interested. It had set off all the warning bells in Tim’s brain – he knows that the menace is up to something, but he hasn’t been able to find any evidence supporting his gut feeling so far.

Even now, he’s worried – they’ve made it halfway through lunch already, and nothing has happened yet.

Honestly, it’s almost a relief once a loud crash interrupts Conversation Attempt #4. All three of them perk up at the disruption, their position at the top of the burger joint they’d chosen in Star City – neutral territory for both parties – giving them a clear line of sight to the swath of spaceships invading.

Superman is off in a flash, abandoning the conversation in favor of soaring out over the cityscape. Tim shares an eyeroll with Kon, and the two join in the fray, running damage control while Tim gathers information on just who the idiots trying to set up shop on Earth are today.

Clark feels bad about the way lunch has been ruined, but it almost feels like a blessing in disguise. He doesn’t know how to approach Superboy, and it seems like every time he tries, he does something wrong.

The fact that it’s gotten to the point that he would rather fight off a small team of Krill instead of talk to someone who could, under certain circumstances, be called his son, is telling. He doesn’t think that he’s in danger of replacing his brooding, bat-themed friend at the bottom of the “Ability to Express Emotions Normally” list, but this is something of a warning call.

He’ll have to talk to Lois about the best way to actually connect with his young clone before trying again, but their strained relationship has gone on for long enough.

With that decided, Clark turns the rest of his attention to Oliver’s voice in his ear, calling in the situation for his side of town. He’ll make sure he puts his best foot forward as a good example for Kon, defeating the small team of scaled aliens he’s fighting against while he keeps an eye out for the teen and his own bat-friend.

The boys are doing admirably, Superboy swooping in and minimizing civilian injuries as Robin takes a ranged approach at keeping his friend safe. He can hear them chatting over their comms, and he feels guiltily relieved that Kon has people to support him where he himself has been falling down on the job.

Everything seems to be relatively normal when it comes to fighting off an invasion, Clark and his foes only causing minor property damage as they duke it out, which is why the gunshot is so startling.

Sounding thunderous in his ears, the discharge of a high caliber rifle interrupts the normal flow the fight. Whipping around as another round is fired, Clark watches in horror as a bullet streaks right next to Robin, barely missing his cheek as it sails over the young man’s shoulder into the Krill that had been sneaking up in the boy’s blind spot.

There’s a pause before the latest Robin curses, and for a second Clark fears the worst.

Incongruous with the situation that’s just arisen, Clark hears Kon start laughing.

“It’s not funny,” Robin hisses out, recovering from his shock with commendable resilience.

“You knew he was here, though!” Kon chuckles, swooping in to punch one of their enemies unconscious. “And he was still able to catch you off guard!”

Shaken, Clark looks around, spotting a bulky figure hiding up on a nearby rooftop he’d missed before. The man looks up, as if feeling Clark’s eyes on him, and waves.

That’s a rather distinctive helmet he’s wearing. It’s very... Red. And semi-familiar.

Before he can decide on whether or not he wants to risk Bruce’s wrath by calling the man before eleven o’clock to get his opinion on whether or not one of his infamous “rouges” managed to find his way out of Gotham, he hears a new voice speak through Kon and Tim’s comm lines.

“SB’s right, Baby Bird. You have to keep your head on a swivel at all times.”

“Constant vigilance!” Kon calls out, making his voice deeper as he growls out the quote.

“Both of you suck,” Robin grumbles. “I knew he was here, I just didn’t think that he was gonna shoot right next to my ear.”

“Eh, you’ve got those fancy bat-earplugs in, you’ll be fine,” the man who, by Clark’s journalistic eye, is none other than the up-and-coming violent crime lord Red Hood, quips. “Now if you’re done being dramatic, it’s time to get back to work. Your little side act is distracting Big Blue.”

Both boys snap their heads in Clark’s direction at that, and he has to smile sheepishly as Robin puts his hands on his hips in a show of disappointment as Kon slaps a hand over his face.

Snickering comes over the boys’ comms, and Clark takes that as his (somewhat confusing) cue to get back to his own fights.

That young man didn’t seem anything like how Bruce described him, and Clark’s brooding friend hadn’t mentioned anything about the criminal’s potential connections to known heroes, juvenile or otherwise.

He’s going to have to talk to those two boys about this before bringing it up with Bruce. Clark hasn’t been there for Kon, but he can at least make sure the people he’s befriending are good folk.

Chapter Text

There is no one on this green earth who would have the balls to attribute the title of “Expert in Gotham City Criminals” to Oliver Queen, and he’ll be the first person to shoot at whoever would dare to try and slap such a stain onto his good name.

Despite this, he still finds himself standing between a confused Superman and an irate Robin and Superboy, talking about, for some reason, a Gotham City Criminal.

Glowering at his unwanted audience, Oliver grinds his teeth. The criminal in question lounges in the shade of a nearby skyscraper, shamelessly taking a video of this sham of a conversation on his cellphone.

God, if Dinah hadn’t made him actually sit down for monthly talks with his problem child, he wouldn’t be in this position.

Does he want to know anything about the gun-toting crazy Gothamite Roy decided to form a team with a year or two ago? No, he does not! Frankly, he’s heard of more than enough of the illegal things that boy has gotten into. Dinah frowns at him whenever he tries telling her this, but he’s not willing to back down on that matter.

Roy knows better than to tell the older hero of his more law-breaking exploits, but Oliver’s heard more than enough to know that this so called “Red Hood” is nothing but trouble.

The only issue is, whenever he tries to tell Kent that, the brats keep getting up in arms about how he’s “taking things out of context”, or how he doesn’t “know what he’s talking about”.

It’s ridiculous! And Kent’s no help at all, letting the children talk over each other as they try to tell Oliver that the information he got from someone who (unfortunately) is friends with the masked menace is wrong!

“I know what I’m talking about!” Oliver shouts, clenching his fists. “I have heard story after story of that man’s stupid hijinks!”

“And we actually know him,” Robin argues, irritatingly calm. Bruce really does teach all of his boy side-kicks to be just as mouthy as the first.

“You’re just kids,” Oliver scoffs. “It’s obvious that you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.”

“Oh, so you want another opinion from someone older than us?” Superboy asks, looking as unruly as ever. “Fine!”

Oliver rolls his eyes as the kid whips out his phone, texting madly. Turning to Kent, he shakes his head. “Ignore them. That criminal is definitely the Red Hood, and his character matches up with what you’ve told me of Batman’s reports on him. I certainly wouldn’t recommend letting him interact with the children while they’re still so impressionable.”

“We’re young, not idiotic,” Robin snarks, disdain dripping off of his words. “Unlike yourself, apparently, since you’re so willing to take the testimony of others as law without putting in any effort to form your own opinions.”

Whirling around, Oliver puffs up. “Why you!”

Kent steps in-between them, as if Oliver would really be so uncontrolled as to actually get into a physical altercation with a small child. At the same time, the characteristic whoosh of air that accompanies a Speedster’s appearance sweeps through the damaged street corner.

“Oh my god, is this him?”

Clicking his tongue in irritation, Oliver observes an over-enthusiastic Wally West who’s apparently decided to grace them with his presence, that weird future Flash kid practically glued to his side. “What’s the purpose of bringing them here? They’re hardly adults.”

“Flash has his own job, and knows Hood in much the same way you do,” Robin sniffs, acting like this is actually going to help his case. “Impulse has been sending him videos of this man’s interactions with the Titans for months now, at intervals that likely far outstrip how often you receive updates from your own source.”

Red Hood shoots double finger pistols at the Speedster duo, going as far as to offer his hand for a high-five when the younger one bounces up to his side. It’s not something Oliver expected, what with all of the stories he’s heard painting him as a man willing to do any number of questionable things, none of them even remotely friendly.

West has already abandoned Oliver and the idiots he’s surrounded by, fully immersed in the side conversation he's started, gesticulating wildly to Impulse and the criminal they’ve been discussing.

“See? Flash thinks he’s cool,” Superboy says, unbearably smug.

“That doesn’t prove anything, you little brat!” Oliver snaps.

Kent has the gall to frown at him for that, angling his body so he can better see the chatting trio. He’s probably listening in on their conversation.

“Well, it really seems like Flash doesn’t have any issues with him,” Kent says, still sounding like he’s trying to puzzle through a difficult problem in that corn-fed brain of his. “Oh, they both know Nightwing? Robin, Nightwing knows him?”

Rolling his eyes, Superboy scoffs. “Of course Nightwing knows him, they’re –”

Robin cuts him off by slapping his hand over the punk’s mouth, which isn’t conspicuous at all. Dear lord, clearly Bats has to retrain his brat if he thinks he can get away with this level of subpar subterfuge in front of real superheroes.

“Yes, Nightwing knows. I can call him, if you would be more willing to listen to his testimony than our own, or the Flash’s.”

Smiling that damn country-bumpkin smile of his, Kent rubs the back of his head sheepishly as he nods at the immature child who’s word he’s willing to believe over Oliver’s. “I think that’s a great idea, bud. Green Arrow, thank you for helping out, I think I’ve got it from here.”

“Fine,” Oliver bites out, turning on his heel and stalking off. This entire thing was an utter waste of his time, apparently.

Really, the nerve of some people. They come into his city, fight off aliens with the help of a literal criminal, and then reject Oliver’s perfectly sound analysis in favor of a couple of brat sidekicks’ naïve speculations?

That’ll teach him to play nice with the others. Pah, he’s going to have to have a long rant session with Dinah before he cools down enough to call up Roy and chew him out for associating with such trouble-making characters.

Chapter Text

Enjoying the natural quiet that comes with visiting a space station, Diana lets herself take a moment to pause at one of the Watchtower’s view ports and reflect.

Things have been quiet as of late, which she is more than thankful for. There have been no major invasion attempts, no recent world-ending threats, and even the petty interpersonal drama between various League members has been manageable.

Clark had asked her to track down some information while they’re enjoying the lull, and since it’s been a while since she’s been able to come up to the League’s headquarters without the pressure of an active mission, she’d agreed.

Her friend had run into a criminal, which is not unusual, but the man in question had surprising connections to the young Titans, the excitable Wally West, and even the first little Robin, Dick. During Clark’s observation, he’d seen multiple conflicts between the young man’s attitude and  actions and the predictions Bruce had put together in his comprehensive rogue file. Because of the disconnect, Clark wants her to gather up a copy of that report so he can get his thoughts in order before he sits down and discusses the matter with their shorter friend.

It's an interesting situation, to be sure, even if it is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, she has nothing better to do, and this sounds like an acceptable way to spend her time for now.

Continuing on her journey, Diana takes the time to nod at her fellow heroes as she passes them in the halls.

As she goes deeper into the space station, she runs into fewer and fewer people, and the absence throws a distant, lighthearted conversation she can barely hear into the spotlight.

It sounds as though it’s coming from the computer room, which is where Diana’s destination lies.

Focusing, she can make out two male voices, one sounding quite young. Did one of her colleagues bring their child again? While she doesn’t view it as a breach of confidentiality and security like Bruce does, she cannot understand why they decided to show their young the computer room instead of somewhere with windows.

“– still don’t get why I need to be here for this, Baby Bird.”

“Because we both know you’d take any opportunity to cause more confusion if I left you alone with the rest of the team.”

“I am wounded that you think so lowly of me! How can you even bring yourself to accuse me of creating chaos and spreading misinformation whenever I get the opportunity to? It’s like you don’t even know me!”

Diana can make out a heavy sigh, before the young voice continues. “It’s because I know you that you’re here, jackass.”

“Hey, watch your fucking mouth, Timbo – what would Dickwing say if he caught you swearing like that?”

“Probably nothing, since he’d be on your case about wearing that stupid helmet in the Justice League’s headquarters, Jay.”

Diana frowns at that, keeping her steps light as she approaches the doorway. That doesn’t sound very good, if she’s being honest. This close, she can tell that the other voice is obfuscated by some kind of modulator, disguising any potential identifiers from her.

Said modulated voice sniffs, offended. “There was no way in hell I was gonna come up here without adequate head protection, Replacement. We wouldn’t even have to be arguing on whether or not it’s a smart idea for me to try and protect my poor, fragile skull against a bunch of supers if you hadn’t insisted that I come with you like this is some kind of hacking playdate.”

“For the last time, I’m not hacking anything! I just want to update the way any invasion notifications get sent out to us, since we’ve been blindsided the last three times!”

Having heard enough, Diana enters the room. “Just what do you two think you’re doing?”

Both boys freeze immediately, and she’s startled to realize that she’s just caught Bruce’s latest Robin with the very criminal she’d been aiming to get information on.

The criminal barks out a laugh, pointing at Robin like he’s just won an argument. “HA! What did I tell you, Baby Bird? Have fun explaining this to Wonder Woman, oh ‘master planner’.”

“I’m not hacking anything!” Robin blurts out, face going red with embarrassment. His criminal friend keeps laughing, and the vigilante reaches over to smack his arm. “It’s not funny, you asshole!”

“Sure, sure – Auntie D just caught you elbow-deep in the Watchtower's code because you were irritated over a five-minute notification delay, and your only defense is ‘it’s not hacking!’! I thought you were supposed to be the smooth talker here!”

“Step away from the computer, Robin. Red Hood, have we met? What gives you the right to address me in such a manner?”

The man goes stiff as Robin pushes back from the keyboard, snorting at his companion’s predicament.

“I mean – no? We definitely haven’t met. Not at all. I apologize for my overfamiliarity.”

“Kiss ass,” Robin mutters, clearly aimed at the criminal who’s swapped from overconfident to almost fumbling his words.

Red Hood kicks out at Robin’s chair lightly, hissing back, “Shut the fuck up, it’s Wonder Woman.”

Narrowing her eyes, Diana takes in the way the two seem highly familiar with each other, the utterly relaxed posture Bruce’s latest son has not-quite adopted, and how nonconfrontational the two are being for a duo caught somewhere they should really not be. She shoots Red Hood a stern look as she steps closer, peering at the screen Robin had been immersed in before she’d broken up their so-called ‘playdate’.

“I was just moving the Titan’s placement up a little bit on the order of notification for invasions and threats happening in California,” Robin defends, slightly petulant, and what Diana sees does corroborate his words.

Turning back to the boys, she crosses her arms and fixes them with an unimpressed look. “There are proper channels to request such a re-ordering through, Robin.”

The boy in question coughs awkwardly, glancing off to the side to avoid her gaze. Red Hood elbows him, muttering about being respectful. Robin huffs, irritated, but turns back to meet Diana’s stare, pouting.

Interesting.

“And I suppose you also have a reason for bringing a known criminal into the Justice League headquarters, as well?”

Both of them wince.

“I – uh, he’s not that bad?” Robin tries, smiling like he can convince her of the man’s innocence if he just acts hard enough.

“I’m here because Robin wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I wasn’t getting into any trouble,” Red Hood cuts in, trying to subtly angle himself so he’s in front of the younger boy.

It’s a startlingly protective action for someone who’s supposedly diametrically opposed to justice and anyone related to Batman, if she’s remembering Clark’s retelling of Bruce’s admittedly dry report correctly.

Willing to let this play out a little more in order to get a fuller picture of the situation she’s found herself in, Diana raises an eyebrow. “And what trouble would you be getting into if you weren’t up here?”

The boys stall at that, turning to each other slightly as if trying to come up with something believable. Yet another easy display of trust – Clark’s confusion was well founded, if the two acted anything like this when he encountered them. Something’s off.

“He wouldn’t actually do anything, really,” Robin waffles, waving his hands. “He’d just make a general nuisance of himself, like normal. Truly, he’s not that much of a threat, despite what your files may –”

“What Robin means to say,” Red Hood talks loudly over the other, slapping a hand over Robin’s mouth to cut him off, “is that I was planning on doing many dastardly things he could only prevent if he personally ensured I was unable to carry out my plans. I’m here because it was the safest option for everyone.”

Shoving at the taller man’s hand, Robin scoffs. “What dastardly plans, you were just going to make fun of Green Arrow in the group chat. Wait, were you planning on making spicy crap again? What did we do this time to deserve that?!”

Stiff as a board, Red Hood takes his hand back from Robin and bonks it lightly on the boy’s head as he leans in to hiss quietly, “I wasn’t planning on it, but for this whole shitshow? Oh, I’m going to be making your meals special, Replacement. You like lasagna, don’t you? How do you feel about, say, jalapeño peppers? Or maybe poblanos?”

Gasping, Robin whirls on his companion, completely disregarding Diana for the moment. “You wouldn’t dare! This is in no way my fault, and it would be completely unfair if you do that!”

Red Hood crosses his arms, tilting his head to the side in a display of dramatics she typically only sees from the more colorful personalities in this line of work. “I think you’ll find that I would, in fact, dare. The only reason I’m up here is because you didn’t want me to mess with anyone else, and you didn’t even play along when I tried to get you out of hot water with Auntie D! I mean, come on! You were just gonna make it sound like you took me up here to babysit me? That’s never gonna fly, Timbit – she knows us way too well to believe a dumb lie like that!”

“You are here because I have to babysit your dramatic ass, Jay!” Robin argues, squaring his shoulders. “If you’d just agree to not confuse anyone with the whole Red Hood thing for a minute, we wouldn’t be here! If you hadn’t worn that dumb helmet, we wouldn’t be in this situation! If you just took Dick or even Alfred up on their offers –”

“I haven’t stepped foot in the manor for three years, there’s no way I’m going back –”

“Not even for tea?” Robin asks smugly, and Red Hood rears back.

“... that’s dirty. You’re playing fucking dirty, Replacement, and I won’t stand for it.”

They act like siblings. This is a familial squabble, and Diana needs to make sense of things before she jumps to any painful conclusions.

Is it possible that this is someone young Robin knows outside of his connection to Bruce? It doesn’t seem likely, what with the way they’re both clearly familiar with not only Dick, but also the much less publicly visible Wayne Butler. She hasn’t heard of Bruce taking in any new wards, so Robin should not have any brothers Diana doesn’t know.

There is an obvious current of familiarity in the way Red Hood addresses her. His mannerisms pick at a distant memory of another young boy, so brash towards others but so reserved towards someone he viewed as his favorite hero.

Robin has called him “Jay” twice, now.

Keeping a tight rein on the tempest of thoughts and emotions she really hadn’t planned on confronting today, Diana clears her throat to bring the boys out of their argument.

Red Hood snaps to attention immediately, fidgeting with his jacket sleeves as Diana observes him closely. Robin, on the other hand, takes a second to adjust to the way his verbal sparring partner is suddenly no longer willing to be his opponent – the younger boy gapes at the rapid shift in attitude until Red Hood steps on his foot, prompting him to turn his focus back on the person who caught them.

The easiest way to confirm her growing suspicions is simple.

“Take off the helmet.”

Red Hood’s shoulders hike up, his discomfort palpable. “I, can I not do that? Please?”

“He’s got terrible helmet hair,” Robin tries to cover, easily flipping back onto the side of the person who must be his brother. “He’s really embarrassed about it, so he never takes his helmet off in front of anyone.”

“That’s what you’re going with?!” Red Hood squawks, but Robin jabs him with a finger before they can start up their argument again. “I mean, terrible helmet hair. I’d have to die again if I ever showed it to anybody. It’s very tragic.”

Robin makes a pained sound at the way his brother casually mentions dying again, and Diana knows in her bones that she’s right.

Softening her tone, she loosens her intimidating posture. “Little Bird, take off the helmet.”

Robin curses under his breath and shakes his head at the taller boy, but Jay, Bruce’s little Jaybird, goes still. He looks up at her like he’s still that young boy who barely came up to her thigh.

“Please.”

Red Hood trains his eyes on his feet, but his hands move towards the back of his helmet despite Robin’s hissed complaints. Jay pulls off his helmet, revealing a bright red mop of hair she’s only heard about when the boy himself had confided in her that he dyed his hair due to his desire to have dark hair “like her and Dickie”, years ago.

Tilting his head up to reveal a white streak, strong jaw, and greener eyes than she remembers, Jay shoots her the same timid grin he’d use whenever she found him pulling a prank on Bruce and their fellow League members.

“Hi, Auntie D.”

“Jay,” Diana says, lost for words. She was hoping for this outcome, hoping to see that bright face again, but despite her budding conviction, the confirmation doesn’t feel real. This morning, Bruce’s second son had been dead, a painful reminder of the evanescent nature of lighter times for those in their line of work. Now, there’s a young man standing in front of her with a very familiar face, and through the maelstrom of emotions she’s experiencing, the only one she can truly recognize is joy. “Oh, Jay! It’s been far too long!”

Wasting no further time, she scoops up the boy who’d proudly declared to his own father that Diana would be able to beat him any day of the week, the son who’d made Bruce laugh freely, the little light who brought warmth when he took on the heavy mantle left behind by young Dick, clutching him into a tight hug.

She can feel the breath leaving his lungs in a winded exhale at the impact, but Jay immediately wraps his arms around her in return, clinging like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

In the quietest voice she’s heard from the brash young man, Jay whispers, “You’re not mad?”

Diana laughs. “Little bird, I am currently experiencing a great many emotions right now. While anger is one of the innumerous feelings affecting me, I am primarily filled with joy.”

Jay lets out a choked, “Oh,” and Diana squeezes him harder.

She’s able to hold this child who was once lost to her, and she will be forever grateful for the acts of the gods that brought him back.

That does not mean Diana suddenly became ignorant of her surroundings, so when Robin attempts to slip back into position at the computer and return to his hacking, she pulls back from Jay. “There are still proper channels you should be going through before re-ordering our notification lists, little one.”

Jay snorts at that, shaking his head as Robin whines, “But I was almost finished! It wouldn’t even affect anything, I checked!”

“You checked, did you?” She asks, smiling wryly at the shifty bird who is once again avoiding her gaze.

“Maybe.”

Sighing good-naturedly, Diana straightens her posture, releasing Jay from the hug. The young man backs up, but stays at her side the same way she remembers him doing a lifetime ago. “Well, if you cannot be convinced, I suppose it is up to me to supervise your actions to ensure everything goes smoothly.”

Robin squints at her, suspicious. “You’re really not going to ask about Jay at all? Or the criminal thing?”

“Shh!” Jay shushes, glancing at Diana immediately afterwards as though nervous of her response.

Looping her arm over the boy’s shoulders, she pulls him closer to both herself and his brother. “While I do indeed have questions, I’m also certain that we can multitask.”

“Okaaaaay,” Robin acquiesces, still maintaining his on-guard posture. “But you have to understand that he really hasn’t been that bad, no matter what B said.”

“I’m sure you have just as much evidence as my friend does to support your side of the story, but as of right now I am more interested in hearing his reasoning on not alerting either myself or Clark regarding the return of his son.”

Jay goes stiff, and Robin fidgets.

“Well, about that...”

Chapter Text

Confronted with the upset faces of Cassie and Kon, Jason can admit to himself it’s quite possible that he let this whole “Red vs Red Hood” thing get out of hand.

“We heard everything from your comms. Are you actually a crime lord?” Cassie asks, trying to frown hard enough that it draws attention away from her teary eyes. “Did you just lie to us the whole time?”

“I thought you were our friend,” Kon adds on, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Or did you just let us defend you ‘cause you thought it was funny?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jason resists his knee-jerk reaction to confirm that yes, this whole misunderstanding actually has been one of the funniest things he’s seen in a while, not including the whole betrayal bit. Instead, he takes off the red face mask and domino, looking at the two kids he’s come to see as his own annoying not-siblings without any pretense between them.

“I am a crime lord. I tried to avoid lying to you, but there’s no way you can’t call what I did a lie by omission. While I did originally mean to use the misunderstanding as another exercise in distrust and vigilance, there’s no reason I should have let it go on this long. I apologize. I truly do see you as friends and teammates, even if you are Robin’s team first and foremost.”

Cassie and Kon take a moment to digest his apology, glancing at each other while they deliberate their next course of action. Coming to a decision, Cassie locks eyes with Jason and nods. “I appreciate your apology.”

“But Robin, you knew too!” Kon continues, looking devastated. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tim flinches at the question, and Jason lets his arm brush up against the kid’s side in a show of support. They’d both screwed the pooch on this one, but Jason can handle the heat. Timbo, on the other hand, would be absolutely crushed if this screws up his team, his friendships with these people. If it looks like he’s digging himself into a hole with no exit strategy, Jason’s gonna step in whether Tim wants him to or not.

“... I didn’t. It was...” Tim takes a breath, bringing his thoughts together. “I didn’t want anything to change, for any of you to be afraid of him. He’s always been suspicious, and you all took the assassin thing well, but what’s the limit to that tolerance? How much would be too much? I didn’t want to ruin what we had, just because he’s trying to help out Gotham the only way he thinks will work.”

“We wouldn’t have been afraid of him, he’s Red!” Kon argues, looking hurt that Robin didn't trust them.

“How was I supposed to know that?!” Tim bites back, heated until the fire in his eyes immediately gets doused by his ever-present self-doubt. Hunching his shoulders, Tim mumbles, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Hey, I’m the adult in this situation, I should have been the one to call this shit off once we got too carried away. I will now humbly submit myself to your judgement, oh wonderous heroes. Please be merciful,” Jason cuts in, shoving his hand into Robin’s hair and scrubbing hard enough the kid looks down.

The kids narrow their eyes at him, but the atmosphere seems to lighten up a bit, thanks to his signature theatrics.

“You’re not even a real adult,” Cassie mutters.

“I’m still mad, but we can relegate Robin to share Bart’s punishment,” Kon says, shaking his head.

Tim looks up from under Jason’s hand, hope flashing across his face.

“You’re on report-writing duty for the next month, and you two have to clean the Tower by yourselves. Even after we come back from missions completely covered in random goo. Kon and I aren’t helping at all,” Cassie informs Tim of the terms he and Bart have to abide by.

Tim goes from hopeful to disgusted in seconds, and Jason laughs at his misfortune.

“Don’t laugh yet, Red!” Kon scoffs.

Picking up after her friend, Cassie continues, “You, my crime lord, assassin, etcetera etcetera friend, are going to have sit here and do nothing.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jason cocks his head to the side. “How is that a punishment, exactly?”

“You won’t be able to cook,” Cassie states, lifting her chin and reciting her words to the ceiling imperiously.

“Bart and Cassie will take care of that,” Kon informs them.

“You won’t be able to clean,” she lists.

“Bart and Robin are in charge of that.”

“I will leave my clean laundry all over this Tower, and you will not be able to do anything about it,” Cassie crescendos, tone threatening.

“I will find every single movie adaptation of a book we have and play it until we feel like you’ve learned your lesson,” Kon raises the stakes.

These kids really think they’re busting his balls with these “punishments”, it’s honestly kind of adorable.

“And as for your blanket – ”

“Hey,” Jason tries to speak up, but Cassie talks over him.

“You will be forced to wear The Blanket whenever you are in the Tower, as a mark of shame,” she finishes, and Jason feels childish for the wave of relief that sweeps through him. Cassie lowers her chin, slipping out of her act. “We trusted you, and it sucks that you did that to us. But, we’re still a team.”

“Just because Red’s a criminal doesn’t change the fact that he’s our weird, kind-of brother first,” Bart piques up from where he’s been standing silently behind the two aggrieved parties.

“Oh yeah, what’s up with that, man?” Kon asks, moving forward to poke at Jason. “Like, we all knew that you were doing some sketchy stuff since it was really obvious, but how’d you end up at crime lord? A Gotham crime lord, at that!”

Scrunching up his face, Jason takes a moment to put his domino back on since he doesn’t want to have to actually look anyone in the eyes when he explains to a bunch of kids why he goes out at night to kill people and sell drugs.

“I mean, I wasn’t in the best state of mind when I came back,” he starts.

“Like, came back to life, or came back to Gotham?” Bart asks.

“Both, honestly,” Jason shakes his head, walking over to the couch to grab his “punishment blanket”. Talking about this crap always makes him remember how fucking cold he feels now. The kids follow, piling up against his sides when he collapses into the squishy cushions, wrapped in yellow fabric. “I went through assassin boot camp while braindead, I know you guys eavesdropped on enough of the Nightwing shitshow to know that much. After getting back into my own head, I got some... bad information, and made a snap decision based on that.”

Four faces are turned towards him, free of any judgement. It’s got Jason feeling jittery.

“I was pissed at B for something I felt like he owed me but didn’t do, and for a different thing I thought he did when he shouldn’t have, so I went to Gotham with the intent to fuck his shit up and force him to confront his failures as a father. When the opportunity arose, I made my way over here to give Robin a taste of what it really meant to wear the colors, because I thought he was some kind of fucking interloper taking something that didn’t belong to him.”

“But why would you think Robin didn’t belong to him?” Cassie asks, confused. “I mean, he’s the third Robin. It’s not like it wasn’t already a thing to pass the title on to a new person.”

“I realize it was kind of hypocritical of me, seeing as I did kind of steal the suit from Dickhead, but is that really what you want to focus on here?” Jason questions, incredulous.

“I mean, we watched the Tower’s security tapes after you left that first time. We already knew why you came here,” Tim says. “You literally told me you wanted to beat me up.”

“And you should have a problem with that!” Jason frowns. “My reasoning was shit, and I would have completely decimated you!”

“I could have taken you!” Tim defends vehemently.

“Baby bird, you asked me for advice when I was the one who broke in to beat the crap out of you. You hadn’t slept in three days, and almost collapsed when you tried to take a single step.”

The kid flushes as his friends giggle at Jason’s deadpan reasoning. “Yeah, but I made it through three hours of knife training!”

“I think you mean three hours of knife,” Bart mock whispers, only to catch a pointy elbow in his gut, courtesy of the embarrassed little bird.

“A seventeen-year-old hopped up on Pit juice against a tiny fifteen-year-old with barely any training under his belt? There would have been no contest,” Jason deadpans, wincing at how short-sited his reasoning feels in retrospect.

“Still,” Tim grumbles. “I think I could have won.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason continues his story. “Anyways, after I was thoroughly derailed, I kind of just... drifted. I started the crime lord gig to set the foundations to get under B’s skin, but then I realized that Crime Alley was responding positively to having some rules actually get enforced, and I could see how I was actually making a difference. I had a bunch of teenagers to look after and make sure you weren’t tripping over your own feet or giving each other food poisoning. There were a couple of wild trips with the Outlaws here and there, but it’s just been, normal. For me. Since then.”

“So, you wanted to be a crime lord to – make things better?” Cassie asks, not really understanding.

“Is that another one of those Gotham Things?” Bart pipes up. “I feel like that’s a Gotham Thing.”

“Crime rates are down, and even B has acknowledged that what you’re doing has been having a positive effect on the Alley,” Tim volunteers. “Of course, he thinks it’s all temporary and that you’ll ruin everything you’ve fixed when you snap, but that’s B for you.”

“You dad thinks you’re just gonna snap?” Kon gasps. “You’re his son! You were his sidekick!”

“He’s not my dad,” Jason growls, even while Tim nods his head.

“I mean, B doesn’t actually know that it’s him,” He waffles, “so I don’t know how much we can say he’s a shitty father from this instance alone.”

“Your dad doesn’t know you’re alive?!” Cassie asks, aghast. “Why not?”

“Because he’d try to throw me into Arkham if he did,” Jason responds immediately. “Don’t even try to defend him, Baby Bird. I went into the Pit, I turned into a violent crime lord, I kill people. I’m not the same little kid he remembers, and he didn’t bother giving me the benefit of the doubt even before this shit went down. Now that you guys have added on the meta narrative, I can only guess at what he’ll do once he finds out. Shit his pants after he beats the crap out of me, probably.”

His statement is met by silence, the Titans looking up at him with varying faces of horror.

Eventually, Bart breaks the silence. “What the heck?!”

Slapping the top of her legs, Cassie jerks to her feet. “Okay, we’re going to ban Batman from Titans Tower. Robin, let’s go, you need to do your nerd thing with the Zeta tubes and make it so he can’t come here.”

Jason blinks in astonishment as the teenagers collectively stand, Kon even reaching out to tug his arm as they start to troop over to the ops center, 100% committed to banning fucking Batman from their little hangout tower. “What are you doing?”

Kon rolls his eyes, making a face like he thinks Jason’s being dumb. “We’re protecting you, duh.”

“From Batman?”

“From your awful dad, yes,” Cassie affirms, completely confident.

“I’m literally a criminal,” Jason tries.

“Irrelevant,” Tim dismisses.

“Bro, do you think this is the first time we’ve done this?” Bart laughs. “At this point, hiding criminals is a Titans rite of passage!”

“You guys are crazy,” Jason mutters under his breath, but nothing can seem to keep the smile off of his face. These kids are absolutely ridiculous.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve them, but he’s beyond glad that he’s here with them.

Chapter Text

Chilled gusts of wind howl past two unmoving figures standing in the dark shadows that envelop the solid outcropping of rock lining the connection point between cliffside and the bridge leading into Gotham City. They’ve been out here in the cold for twenty minutes, and Tim is cursing everything he can think of.

He’d gone back to Gotham, laughing with the Titans over the huge stink they’d made about Jason’s crime lord secrets and how it had somehow turned into them attempting to ban Bruce from the Titans Tower, and things had been fun. After a quick talk with Alfred to let the probably clairvoyant butler know that his prediction had come true, Tim had returned to his own house and started clearing the dust away so Mrs. Mac doesn’t get concerned again.

It all went to shit when he got a ping on his phone from Bruce, stating that he needed to report to the Cave immediately.

What had followed was a painfully stilted grilling session on just who Red Hood is, whether or not he's pretending to be Jason Todd, and what the extent of Tim’s complacency is in the man’s so-called reign of terror. Which, yeah – Jason had come on a little strong with the whole bloody crime lord thing, but he chilled out once Tim had been able to snap some sense back into him. He’s not shoving heads into duffle bags anymore, mainly just beating the shit out of people, like Bruce does, plus a couple of murders here and there.

Tim had refused to give up any information, even when Bruce threatened to take away Robin. He probably shouldn’t have scoffed when those words left his boss’s mouth, but he can’t and won’t take it back. Robin is Dick’s, it’s Jason’s. Bruce may have helped create it, but Tim has already shoved his annoying ass into the suit when no one wanted him to once, and if Bruce does try and take it away? He’ll have two people who’ve actually worn the scaley panties, as Jason so eloquently puts it, to back him up when he tells Bruce where he can shove that particular order.

The encounter ended with one of Batman’s signature growls, and a demand that Tim suit up and follow him.

They’d taken the Batmobile out to this windy-ass corner of nowhere, just outside of city limits, and parked their butts right off of the road. When Tim had questioned him, Bruce only grunted out that he’d get his answers tonight, one way or another.

Now, as the roar of a recognizably modified engine fades into hearing, the first sign of traffic in minutes, Tim grits his teeth as he moves to fiddle with his wrist communicator. As the bike gets closer, he can make out the glint of a very familiar helmet, and he's acutely aware of just how closely Bruce is watching his every reaction.

What did Batman even say to Jason that would convince the man to show up?!

Bruce steps closer to Tim as Jason closes in on their position, pulling off of the highway and spinning his bike in a tight circle as he comes to a halt. His headlights illuminate their little corner of the night, and it feels like a spotlight suddenly focusing in on Tim’s brightly colored uniform.

“Red Hood,” Batman growls.

“B, what a warm welcome,” Jason drawls, crossing his arms and leaning over the handlebars. “Imagine my surprise when I get a message saying that the little bird is in trouble and needs help, from none other than the big bat himself? Or, from Oracle on his behalf, but we all know that’s the same thing.”

“You used me?” Tim hisses at Bruce, who stoically acts like he doesn’t hear the accusation. Giving it up as a lost cause, Tim rounds on Jason, who really should have known better. “You came?!”

“Of course I came, there’s no way I’d miss this,” Jason snorts, nodding his head at Batman’s stiff form. “He’s always got such a stick up his ass, I wanted to know what got him upset enough to actually reach out instead of letting Robin die again as he sits in his cave, brooding until the end of time.”

A hand comes down on Tim’s shoulder, and it feels like a shackle. Eyes locked onto Jason’s falsely casual lean, Bruce grinds out, “What is your relationship with Jason Todd.”

Jason freezes, his posture going hostile in a second. His voice is modulated, but Tim knows that it would sound straight up poisonous without the filter. “Now, that’s the question, isn’t it old man? How about we -”

“Red, what have we told you about the creepy helmet?!”

Cassie’s voice cuts through the impeding fight, strong and lighthearted, and Tim feels the tension that’s been plaguing him since his return to the East Coast start to untangle. His team got his scrambled, panicked message. They made it in time.

Batman remains unmoving, but his grip tightens on Tim’s shoulder as Bart drops off first Cassie, and then Kon.

“Oh no, why are we this close to Gotham?!” Kon cries as soon as he gets a good look at their surroundings. “I’m begging you guys, can we please move this big confrontation somewhere a little safer? Like, at least a couple of states away from here?”

“No metas in Gotham,” Bruce grunts, unhappy at the interruption. “Leave.”

“But we’re not in Gotham, are we?” Bart wags his finger at the Dark Knight himself. “And we’re here for our friend. Are you telling me we can’t help our buddy?”

“If you are colluding with a crime lord, I will have to –”

“Psssssha!” Cassie blows out a loud raspberry. “What crime lord?”

Are - are they going with this angle again? After the whole confrontation they just had about this very subject? Even when they know about Jason, now?

“The only crime Red’s guilty of is constantly lording his height over us,” Kon shakes his head, curls bouncing as he tries to lie to Batman.

“He’s still growing!” Bart cries out, offended. “It’s inhumane! He’s already too tall!”

Tim has to stealthily unclip his cape to get out from under Bruce’s hand, but it’s worth it to see the unhappy tilt to the man’s lips as he slips around him to stand with his team. Dodging over to a stunned Jason, he reaches out to flick at the bright red helmet. “See, I told you that you’d keep causing misunderstandings if you wore that helmet everywhere.”

“Whatever you’re trying to do will not work,” Batman growls, but Jason just laughs, breaking out of his reverie.

Shaking his head, Tim’s older brother reaches up and undoes the latches of his helmet, pulling it off with a quiet hiss that gets swallowed by the wind. “And I keep telling you, Baby Bird: I wear it because I don’t want any more brain damage.”

Bruce’s sharp intake of breath is covered up by Cassie’s groan.

“I think you’d need to be brain damaged to think that it's a good idea to wear that thing,” Kon calls out.

“Rude,” Jason gasps, holding a hand up to his heart. “This is far from the worst option I had; you should be grateful I went with this!”

“Red Hood, stop playing your games, now!”

Uh-oh, Bruce sounds pissed. The man stalks forward dramatically, only to run into Cassie and Kon who form a barrier between him and Jason.

“Man, I thought Batman was supposed to be a great detective,” Bart tsks from Jason’s other side. “He can’t even keep his own criminals straight!”

“You’ve clearly got the wrong Red Hood,” Cassie boldly proclaims.

“This one spends all of his time over in Cali with us, he doesn’t have time to be doing crimes over in Gotham,” Kon shakes his head mockingly.

“I refuse to play along with your charade. Move, or I will move you,” Bruce grits out harshly.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jason chides. “What would your only two friends say if they knew you were abusing your position as an adult hero to bully a couple of kids standing up for their friend? Sure, Uncle C would probably just frown at you all disapprovingly, but think about what Auntie D would say. Your ears would be ringing for days.”

Bruce snaps, launching himself around Cassie and Kon to try and get at Jason.

The older boy waves off the Titans, vaulting off of his bike to meet Batman head-on. They grapple fiercely, the dull sound of punches connecting interspersed with Jason’s taunts.

They pause in a deadlock, and Jason takes the time to wipe a thin stream of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Man, you’ve let yourself go, old man! First, you failed to confirm who your suspect actually was, and now you aren’t even able to gather the evidence you so clearly wanted!”

“I’ve learned plenty,” Batman growls, “no matter how desperately you try to dodge me and hide behind children.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Jason snorts derisively. “Tell me, what are your theories now? You’ve seen me bleed, so I can’t be Clayface. I hit you, so you’re not dreaming. What’s running through that hellscape you call a brain right now – is it the truth, or are you still trying to sell yourself a lie?”

“You’re not him,” Batman roars, launching himself at Jason again.

Backflipping, Jason takes precious seconds to unzip his leather jacket, exposing the bright red bat emblazoned across the chest of the armor he’d gotten from Alfred. “It seems like you’re the only one who thinks that.”

As though recognizing his butler’s handiwork, Bruce pulls his attack, bouncing back a step. “How did you get that?!”

“My grandpa gave it to me,” Jason sneers. “He seemed to be opposed to the idea of me running around in clothes that don’t fit anymore. Dickhead was miffed that he didn’t get anything special, but we all know how much of a diva he can be sometimes.”

“Who’s the real diva, here?” Tim calls out, drawing attention to himself in an attempt to lessen the hostile atmosphere. “Nightwing’s a performer. You deliberately kept you jacket closed for the past month because you wanted to wait until the perfect moment to reveal your costume change.”

“And it was completely worth it,” Jason sniffs. “Look, he’s so confused right now.”

“I’m confused about why he thinks that you’re the Gotham City Red Hood,” Cassie dramatically sighs, inserting herself back into the narrative. “I mean, come on! You’d think a dad would know his kids better, especially since Red here can’t even really go back to his family! It’s tragic!”

“I wouldn’t call being banned from Gotham tragic,” Kon says, leaning on Bart’s shoulder. “But it does suck that his dad’s so against metas, he can’t go home.”

“... this man came from Gotham.” Batman says, frustration starting to seep into his customary gravel.

“I mean, yeah?” Bart tilts his head innocently. “That’s why it’s such a shame that he can’t go home, since you don’t want him there.”

“He was in Gotham less than ten minutes ago,” Bruce argues, tone starting to pitch up from his scare the shit out of criminals register to something closer to what he uses with the rest of the Justice League when highly frustrated.

“I wanted to see Alfie, sue me,” Jason drapes the back of his hand over his forehead. “We usually just call, but even you have to admit that there’s something about sitting down with a nice cup of black tea that can’t be beat.”

“Red Hood is not a meta. Jason was not a meta,” Batman grudgingly points out.

“That’s what you think,” Jason huffs, still refusing to actually give a solid stance on the subject even now.

“Dude, two words,” Bart states, splaying his hands out in front of him, “Fire swords.”

Nodding emphatically, Cassie joins in, “Really cool fire swords that are awesome, and you shouldn’t judge him for them.”

“...” Bruce actually pauses to bring his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose through his cowl. “And your explanation for there being two people with the moniker ‘Red Hood’?”

“A copy-cat, obviously,” Cassie says dismissively.

“But one with style,” Jason snickers, only to be swatted by Cassie herself.

“Yeah, ours was definitely the first on the scene with his whole Red Hooded Ninja thing,” Tim hums, casually adding fuel to the fire.

Bruce twitches. “Ninja?”

“Oh, didn’t Dickwing tell you?” Jason asks, delighted. “Don’t worry, you can always reach out to your ex-girlfriend Talia if you don’t want to listen to what I’m told is 'a twenty-minute rant about that one crazy ninja Big Bird got obsessed with years ago’. I understand not wanting to hear about it from him.”

Bruce’s head snaps up at that, the man focusing in on Jason’s smirking, domino covered face. “Talia. The Lazarus Pit?”

Jason, because he’s an asshole, starts slow clapping. “Wow, I’d say give the man a prize, but I don’t think you get anything for last place. How far down his list of possibilities was this one, Baby Bird?”

“Page four,” Tim replies casually. “Out of five.”

“I put sensors on the coffin,” Bruce challenges. “I would have been alerted if anyone tried to break in, and I didn’t let Jay’s body out of my sight before that – there was no way for the League of Assassins to swap it out with a fake.”

“Must’ve been some pretty shit sensors, B,” Jason bites out, cold. “They didn’t pick up fuck-all when I had to break my way out.”

The six of them stand in silence after that remark.

Kon goggles at Jason, mouth slack. “Wait, so you actually –”

Turning away, Jason shields his face. “Why are you so surprised? This isn’t new information.”

“Yeah, but we thought it was just, like, a temporary death. Short, a couple of minutes, max,” Cassie stumbles over her words, just as blindsided. “Like, something the doctors were able to bring you back from or whatever!”

“You dug out of your own grave?” Bart exclaims, and Tim can see Bruce and Jason both flinch at the proclamation. “That’s so... so whelming!”

“Ugh,” Jason groans, but it sounds lighter. “You need to stop hanging out with Wally so often, he’s clearly passing on too many of Dickface’s terrible catchphrases!”

“I’m not hanging out with Wally, I’m hanging with my fam – woah, hey there!” Bart startles back as Batman sneaks up right next to him.

Close enough to reach out and grab Jason, Bruce latches onto his arm. “You need to come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Jason snarls, any traces of geniality lost.

“Uh, stranger danger much?” Cassie loudly calls out.

“Is it still stranger danger if it’s your dad?” Kon asks even as he steps closer, protective.

“Are you going to let metas into Gotham, then?” Tim pokes. “Because the rest of the Titans aren’t going to wait quietly out here while you steal Hood.”

Bruce rolls his shoulders, the visual tell letting Tim know just how much he doesn’t like the situation he’s found himself in. “I need to run his bloodwork.”

“I can send you the tests Nightwing and I ran three weeks ago using the Tower’s data base,” Tim offers pleasantly, delighting in the way Bruce goes even stiffer at the solid confirmation that both Tim and Dick have known about Jason for at least a month. He’s already getting in trouble for this, why not go all out?

“Nightwing –”

“Batgirl might have a sample for you, if you’re able to wait for her to get back from Hong Kong,” Tim continues, acting like he’s truly running through a list of options to help out his boss. “And who knows what evidence Agent A has stored away, wherever he keeps the secrets of the universe.”

“... are you trying to say that everyone believes he’s Jason?”

Jason fake gasps. “If Batman said it, it must be true! The world’s greatest detective, last in the family to realize that his own son is back from the dead. I guess I can’t blame you for accusing me of being a crime lord if this is the kind of brain power you’re working with.”

Instead of replying to the taunt, Bruce moves in a sharp burst of speed. Jason hisses as Bruce jabs the break between his glove and sleeve with a needle to draw blood. “What the fuck, B? Quit it with the fucking needles!”

“No,” Bruce rumbles. “With this, I’ll be able to run an analysis without any outside interference.”

“Wow, he thinks our test is bogus,” Bart complains under his breath.

“How’s that going to help you with your Red Hood conundrum, old man?” Jason sneers, trying to pull his arm out of Bruce’s grip without shifting the needle sticking out of it. “You’re not going to find a ‘criminal’ gene in my DNA.”

Bruce sighs, sounding dead tired. “Right now, Red Hood is a distraction. Your identity is more important to me. Finding out if you are who you say you are takes precedence over that, no matter what.”

Jason visibly stalls at that, clearly not expecting that response.

Before he can collect himself, the sound of another definitely not street-legal bike roars in the distance.

As one, their whole group turns to watch the mostly abandoned highway with varying amounts of confusion, clearly not expecting another player this late in the encounter.

Is that Dick? Why is he in Gotham? If he knew about Bruce’s plans for tonight, why did he wait until now to interfere?

In short order, Nightwing comes into view, tearing down the street as his hair whips around his head. Behind him is a shorter figure, sporting his sleek, black and blue helmet.

Tim... Tim has no idea who his passenger is. She’s short enough to maybe be Cass, but Batgirl is off in China running down leads for her own cases. It’s not Batwoman, since Kate has her own bike and is way taller.

Dick pulls up next to Jason’s bike, eyes going wide at the scene in front of him before he glares at Bruce. “B, really? You tried to corner him because you couldn’t just ask us questions?”

Bruce draws himself up to respond, but Nightwing’s plus one hops off of the bike and stalks straight up to Jason.

“Boss, we need you. Black Mask took a couple of the kids, and he’s demanding shit on your ‘no-fly’ list as part of the ransom.”

Pure rage flashes across Jason’s face, the intensity of it startling Tim and his teammates. Snarling, Jason shoves himself away from Bruce, dislodging the needle as he stoops over to grab his helmet that had skidded out during their fight. Jamming it onto his head, he slides onto his bike in seconds. To the unknown person, he jerks his head. “Get on and fill me in. How long do we have?”

“He took four kids from your shelter on seventh and tenth street, and another two from the Robinson district commune. According to him, we have four hours before he starts sending us body parts,” the lady responds, slipping smoothly into place behind Jason. “Hood, it took me twenty minutes to track down someone to bring me out to you.”

Bringing his bike to life, Jason bites out a curse. Clearly impatient to gun it back to the city proper, he addresses the mass of people gathered in front of him. “Baby Bird, Team, I really and truly appreciate the shit you’re trying to pull, but I’ve gotta go smash some faces in right the fuck now. Wing, thanks for not arresting RQ. B, pull your head out of your ass and leave the kids alone. Oh, and fuck off.”

With that eloquent parting shot, Jason zips onto the road and disappears out of sight, headed back towards the darks streets of Gotham City.

“What just happened?” Kon asks, confused.

“Your Red Hood just admitted to being the same Red Hood based in Gotham,” Bruce says, more tired than accusatory as he picks up and bags the discarded test needle. “Nightwing, what’s the situation with Black Mask?”

“He didn’t even say hi,” Dick pouts, but pulls himself together. “Black Mask took six street kids from Crime Alley in a bid to undermine Red Hood’s authority. I heard something about a ransom, but word on the street says Hood’s gang is unwilling to either pay up or to show that much weakness. One of the members – RQ, according to Little Wing – got Oracle’s attention, who directed me to get her out to you. Which, what the hell! Why are you trying to fight the Titans?”

“I am not trying to fight them,” Bruce grunts, turning his back on Tim and his team. “We’re done here. Robin, we will continue this discussion in the Cave.”

“Oh my god, he actually lives in a cave,” Kon whispers, looking like he’s found the answer to a mysterious question that’s been bugging him for years. “He is literally a bat.”

Tactfully ignoring Superboy’s little moment, Dick puts his hands on his hips. “I think you mean you’ll continue the discussion with Robin and me, B. He’s not the only one who knew about Hood.”

“I will question you at a later time, Nightwing,” Bruce starts.

“Question him?” Cassie yelps loudly. “He’s your son! They’re all your sons! Just talk to them, you big boob!”

Bruce stiffens. “I need to get back to Gotham. We’ll talk after taking down Black Mask.”

In a move that is undeniably fleeing, Batman climbs into the batmobile and punches the gas, exiting stage left.

“If we don’t see Robin in three days, we’re invading!” Bart yells at the top of his lungs after the retreating vehicle.

Tim’s touched that they’d go so far as to undermine Batman’s mandates just because they want to keep hanging out with him.

Kon sidles up to his side, nudging him with an elbow. “Hey, we can totally come with you if you want back-up for your whole ‘conversation’. If you want.”

Smiling at the thought of how stilted Bruce would be if he had to acknowledge the fact that he has real feelings in front of other people, and how awkward that would in turn make his teammates, he shakes his head. “I appreciate it, but I think me and Nightwing have this.”

Kon frowns at him, worried. Cassie and Bart converge on them, focused on Tim. “We’ll run interference if you need a quick get-away, just give us a signal and we’ll be there in a flash,” Bart declares.

Laughing, Tim punches him on the arm. “Seriously guys, I’m going to be fine. If I really need to, I’ll probably be able to bribe Agent A to get me out if anything too crazy happens.”

He gets a strong sense of hesitance from the looks his team sends his way, but Cassie takes the lead, shoving her finger right in his face. “You will call us if you need anything, got it, Rob? I’m being real here, the second you think you might be in trouble, you call. We’ll be there.”

Batting away her hand, Tim rolls his eyes. “Got it, Cassie. Now get out of here, I think Kon’s starting to melt a little bit from being so close to a real city. I’ll keep you guys updated on the Hood situation.”

The Titans are reluctant to leave, but eventually Tim’s able to get them to go back to the Tower. Tonight’s crisis has been postponed, and it looks like he’ll even have some backup when it starts up again. Batman still isn’t trying to throw him in a cell for a real interrogation, his teammates responded to his SOS call by throwing their chips in with Tim and Jason, and Dick even managed to show up just in time to diffuse a fight that could have gone very badly for everyone involved.

A hand lands on his shoulder, so different from Bruce’s crushing grip earlier. Tim jumps, spinning to face Dick.

Grinning, the older man tilts his head towards his bike. “Ready to help Jay get his kids back, Baby Bird?”

“He won’t thank us for it,” Tim replies as he follows his brother, hopping onto the back of the seat. “It’s bad optics for his gang.”

“Then he shouldn’t have involved us,” Dick sing-songs, revving the engine. “He should have remembered that us bats are too nosy to mind our own business!”

Tim’s answering laugh is lost in the wind as the two speed down the highway, heading back to the heart of Gotham to help their family beat up some goons and save the day.

Chapter Text

(4 Weeks prior to Tim and Dick's Realization that Red Hood is Jason)

Flipped upside-down on the unfairly comfortable couch parked in one of the Watchtower’s recreation rooms, Tim scowls at his phone.

He doesn’t need to be here, but Dick had insisted that Tim followed him to his seemingly bi-monthly discussion with the Justice League about why the older vigilante doesn’t actually want to join their hero team, thanks. Tim isn’t even able to sit in on said meetings, since they discuss ‘confidential information’ that’s ‘only relevant to those directly registered as a part of the League’, so he’s forced to sit outside, twiddling his thumbs like an asshole.

It's not like Tim isn’t more than capable of looking up said confidential information in the form of meeting minutes and potentially even camera footage from the meeting room itself. No, he needs to play the role of a good little Robin and not cause any more issues while he’s still in trouble with Dick and this is his punishment. It’s stupid. The second Dick had given him a stern look as he’d been marched down the hall to his very important meeting, Tim had texted his team about the utter BS he’s currently being put through.

Cassie and Bart had laughed at him, filling up the screen with a verifiable wall of emojis depicting their feelings about Tim’s plight.

Kon had volunteered to fly up to space so he could make faces at Tim through the window, but Tim had waved him off. Nightwing dragged him up here because he’s suspicious of Hood, and he’s trying to psychologically pressure Tim into spilling the details on just who the Titan’s pet League Assassin is. Well, it’s not going to work, and Tim is going to subject himself to every moment of this boredom-induced torture without any outside assistance just so he can throw its ineffectiveness back in Dick’s face.

Until his labors bear fruit, though, he’s stuck out here. Waiting.

Sighing loudly, more because it’s satisfying than for any other reason, Tim swaps out his chess app with one of the websites Barbara shares with him, displaying real-time crime rates for the different areas of Gotham. As he sifts through the information, taking note of a couple of new hot spots to check out later, his solitary confinement is broken by someone shuffling into the room.

Darting his gaze off to the side to assess the interloper, Tim clocks him as John Constantine, somewhat infamous member of the JL:D, and one of the handful of people that seem to vex Bruce just by existing. New player identified, he’s about to go back to his research when the Brit pauses his unenthusiastic trek through the space station’s hallways, sniffing the air.

Tim watches on with a detached sense of curiosity as the blond frowns, turning around in a slow circle as he tries his best to pinpoint a direction for whatever scent he’s managed to pick up.

It’s probably not Tim, since Hood forced him to take a shower before his mandatory eight-hour nap last night – apparently, the other boy has a personal vendetta against sweat, seeing as he’s constantly nagging the Titans about having better hygiene, along with better eating habits, and cleanliness standards, and sleeping habits, and...

“Oy, kid.”

Startled out of his mental tangent, Tim comes back to reality and is greeted by the sight of an upside-down, unshaven chin and tired, blood-shot eyes.

Choosing to not flip right-side up since he doesn’t actually want to talk to anyone right now, Tim blinks slowly. “Constantine.”

The man scrunches up his face, but shakes his head like he doesn’t think it’s worth commenting on Tim’s lacking social etiquette. “You dig up any graves, lately?”

It's Tim’s turn to be completely baffled, now. Frowning, he shakes his head slightly. “No?”

Constantine curses and leans in closer, titling his head like he’s trying to see something only a magician can see. “Well, that’s either complete bollocks, or there’s something else going on here.”

Shifting away from the man, Tim swings himself into a better position to get the hell out of here if he needs to. “What are you talking about?”

“Stinks of grave dirt in here, and, far as I can tell? You’re the only who could be the source. Either you’ve been doing some light grave-robbing while you play detective, or something nasty decided to attach itself to you.”

“I don’t dig up graves!” Tim defends, offended. “I don’t even usually get to examine the bodies close up, when we run into homicides!”

Clicking his tongue, Constantine reaches into his pocket, fumbling with something before changing his mind. Instead, he drags said hand over his face, clearly exhausted.

“Shite, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that. How many dead have you come across, lately? Any of them feel particularly clingy, say?”

“How exactly would a dead person be clingy?” Tim asks, scooting further away as he shoots a somewhat desperate look over his shoulder. Shouldn’t Dick’s meeting be over? Tim would like to go back to Gotham, now.

Muttering out a curse, Constantine fumbles for what Tim sees is a pack of cigarettes once again when the man actually pulls it out of his pocket this time. Worrying the top of the carton, the blond clarifies, “Oh, loads of ways. Some of which you’re too young for, thankfully, but it gets bloody confusing if I go into the specifics of it. For instance...”

Staring on in horror as the magician devolves into rambling tangents, each more personal than the last, Tim decides that this is a situation worth giving up his dignity for.

Carefully making sure Constantine is too wrapped up in his own stories, Tim slowly wills himself to fade into the background as he inches out of the man’s aggro range, keeping completely silent as he approaches the nearby air vent. Once he’s close enough, Tim undoes the cover and slips inside.

Dick can make fun of him all he wants for being antisocial, but there’s no amount of money or promises on earth that would be able to convince Tim to stay in that weird, weird conversation.

(2 Days after Batman's "Confrontation" with Red Hood and the Titans)

After finishing up a short but gratifying mission with her boys, Cassie takes a second to relax on a nearby park bench. Today’s fiasco had been tree-themed, so she’s not super thrilled about being surrounded by so much green right now, but she can enjoy the principle of, like, sunlight and nature and everything. The sun is bright, the day is warm, and there’s a lovely breeze rustling through the park to keep her and the boys from overheating. She can hear birds chirping, despite it being close to noon.

She feels almost syrupy with content. If she just closes her eyes and thinks about it, Cassie’s sure that she would be able to perfectly recall the various picnics her mom had dragged her on, years ago.

It’s kind of making her hungry.

Cracking an eye open, Cassie rolls her head to the side, peeking at the others to see how they’re doing. Kon’s lying face down on the grass, his jacket absent as he takes a moment to soak in the sunlight. Bart’s zipping around the little section of park they’ve commandeered to catch their breath in, picking daisies and chaining them into crowns he’s distributing to whoever he can get his hands on – Kon’s unmoving body has already been hit. Robin’s lying down next to Superboy, the other boy’s jacket draped over his head like his pale skin is in danger of spontaneously combusting the second it comes in contact with actual sunlight. And last but not least, Red’s hovering between her, the lover boys, and Bart, checking them over for injuries while failing hard at pretending to not care about their wellbeing.

He's such a mom-friend. Hey, Cassie might be able to make this work in her favor, for once.

“Reeeed.”

Red immediately swings over to her bench, crossing his arms in an attempt to keep his posture cool.

“What do you want, girl wonder?”

Aiming her best puppy eyes at Red’s blank domino, she pouts. “I’m hungry.”

Instead of scoffing or saying something about how she should have eaten a bigger breakfast, Red reaches into one of his many pockets, pulls out a plastic baggy full of some homemade trail mix, and tosses it to her. “Eat that. How much water have you had recently? Do you need a bottle?”

Not what she was expecting, but Cassie can definitely work with this. Ripping open the bag, she shoves a handful of nuts into her mouth. “Thanks! I’m okay on water, but it’s been getting so warm lately, I feel like I’m overheating.”

Red’s fretting ramps up to 100%, immediately. “I’m going to get you some water. Stay there, try and keep out of the sun. Let one of the boys know if you’re feeling-”

“Red! I don’t need all that!” Cassie whines, annoyed at getting treated like a baby. “I was just gonna say that it’d be nice if we all got ice cream before heading back to the Tower to cool down!”

Pausing, Red strips off one of his gloves to push the back of his hand against her forehead. “... you’d better not be lying to me because you don’t want to deal with the recovery period for heat exhaustion.”

Cassie rolls her eyes and shoves his hand away. “I’m fine, I promise. I just think that it would be sweet if we got, like, a small treat since it’s so nice out.”

She can tell that Red’s frowning under his emo shadow hood, but he stops trying to hurry her back to the Tower for unnecessary medical treatment.

After a long moment of consideration, he crosses his arms. “And you’re sure you feel fine?”

Cassie kicks lightly at his shin, which he dodges and huffs at.

“Okay, okay. Fine, no one’s set anything on fire for a while, so I guess it wouldn’t be too terrible of an idea to let you gremlins have sugar as a reward.”

Brightening up, Cassie punches the air victoriously. “Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!”

Kon perks up, pushing himself half-upright and skewing his flower crown in the process. “Ice cream?”

Bart whoops, zooming up to Cassie and Red and deploying flower crowns as he goes. “Heck yeah, ice cream! Let’s fricking go! Follow me, come on, come on!”

Giggling, Cassie reaches up to fix the haphazard tilt of her new royal addition. She can’t believe Bart got over how intimidated he is of Red long enough to actually give him a flower crown! It’s hidden under his big ol’ hood, but she knows what she saw. Even better, the older boy doesn’t take it off, even though he’s gotta know it’s there.

Red’s next words are amused, even as Robin groans in response to how loud their enthusiasm is getting. “Where are we going, happy feet? Do you even know any of the ice cream shops near us?”

Beaming, Bart nods so quickly his head blurs. “Yeah! I did a quick run of the area when Cassie brought it up – there’s an ice cream truck nearby that’s still open, even with the whole giant, sentient tree thing that just happened!”

“Sweet!” Kon cheers, bouncing to his feet as Cassie hoots in excitement.

Trying to avoid Superboy’s prodding, Robin glares out from under the black leather jacket he’d draped over his head. “How close is the truck? Is it really close, or is it five miles away?”

Red snorts at the way Bart deflates at their friend’s suspicious words. “Come on, man, that only happened once!”

“More like it happened five times, but you only messed up the distances with Robin once,” Kon tuts lightly, grinning.

“Why are you being mean to me?” Bart whines, pouting as the boys gang up on him. “I’m trying to get us to the ice cream! You should be nicer!”

“I’m not getting up unless it’s actually close,” Robin reiterates, trying to flop back onto his side. Kon pokes him repeatedly, earning an annoyed hiss for his troubles.

“It’s just outside of the park,” Bart swears. “Right next to the entrance, I promise!”

“If you’re sure, then lead on,” Red says, shaking his head. “Baby Bird, get up or I’m telling SB to carry you.”

Catching Red’s attention, Cassie wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as Rob groans loudly and Kon splutters in embarrassment. Red laughs, and Cassie feels victorious.

Things calm down once they manage to get everyone vertical, automatically clumping into a messy line trailing after Bart as he leads them through the only kind of damaged greenery. They make it to the ice cream truck without incident, though many comments get thrown around over the various choices Cassie’s teammates make when ordering.

Cassie’s more than thrilled with the off-brand Dippin’Dots she picks, and it looks like Bart’s having fun with his own warhead flavored ice cream cup, making faces every time he takes a bite even though there’s no way it’s actually that sour. Kon and Robin are making fun of their melty-featured Batman and Superman popsicles, doing silly voices as they pretend to say dumb things in their respective hero's voices to each other. Red even took off the red face mask in order to take quiet bites from his vanilla cup he refuses to be teased for.

Humming happily, Cassie spins in a circle as they slowly meander back to the Tower. It’s been a good day – they kicked butt, no one got hurt, and they got ice cream. The weather is beautiful, the sky is clear, and the citizens are happy.

There’s a loud thump as someone falls off of the bench they’d been sleeping on, accompanied by a scratchy groan.

Turning, Cassie blinks at the guy they’d just passed. He looks kind of rough, dark circles and stubble the most predominant features on his face. She has to contain her judgement over his fashion sense, working very hard to keep from saying her thoughts out loud – who wears a trench coat when it’s this close to summer?

“Where am I?” The guy asks blearily, grimacing and bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his head before moving it to cover his nose. “What the bloody hell is that smell?”

Weird guy is apparently British, and probably very drunk, Cassie notes.

“You’re in San Fran, dude,” Kon replies, turning to square his shoulders in the guy’s direction. Interestingly, Robin ducks behind their tall friend instead of judging this guy along with the rest of them.

“America again?” The dude groans, sounding annoyed. “Tell me, do all of your cities smell like grave dirt, or is my luck just absolute shite right now?”

“You always have shitty luck, Constantine,” Red scoffs, and Cassie has to bite back a groan of her own. Really? Red knows this guy?

Blondie – Constantine, apparently – jerks at the sound of his name. He snaps his attention to Red, narrowing his eyes. It looks ridiculous, since he’s still basically pinching his nose like he just smelled something really bad. “What the hell are you supposed to be, mate?”

Red bares his teeth at the man in something even the most tone-deaf person would be hard-pressed to call a smile. If this is the kind of expression he makes behind his mask, then maybe it’s better that he keeps it on all the time – he’d freak out way too many people with his face, otherwise. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me? You’re the expert, after all.”

Finally taking his hand away from his face, Constantine breathes in deeply as he leans forward, staring intently at Red. Grimacing, he mouths something to himself, looking like he’s running through a list, before the blood drains from his face. “Fuck me, not again.”

“That’s not an answer, Magician,” Red taunts, but the British dude is working himself into a disgruntled fit as he curses expressively under his breath.

“Really! Again? It’s only been a month since our last zombie apocalypse, I’m still low on supplies! I need to go pack – you four!”

Cassie startles at the sudden address, pointing at herself as she shares an uncertain look with the boys.

“You’re probably heroes – contain that one, make sure it doesn’t bite anyone. I’ll be back with reinforcements.”

“What?” Bart asks, voicing their collective confusion, but the guy just waves him off.

“Don’t die, don’t get reanimated, and all that. Ta.” The man disappears.

Just... poof. Gone.

Looking at the space of pavement that used to have a dude on it a second ago, Cassie gapes. “What the heck?!”

“That’s John Constantine, for you,” Red shrugs, nonchalant. “Never there when you need him, sometimes there when you don’t. Come on, let’s get back to the Tower before he decides to show his face again.”

“Who’s John Constantine?” Kon asks, frowning. “And why do you know him?”

“John Constantine is a Magician and member of the Justice League Dark,” Robin speaks up, wrinkling his nose as he comes out of his hiding place. “B warns all of his Robins about him.”

“Why?” Bart frowns, intrigued.

“He’s a member of the Justice League?” Cassie asks, dumbfounded. “I thought he was homeless!”

The boys all stare at her, and she can feel herself flushing in embarrassment.

Finally, Kon bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, Cassie, you can’t just say that!”

“What? I just, he –” spluttering, she tries to defend herself.

“He does tend to give off that impression,” Red huffs, amused. “To answer your question, happy feet, it’s because B hates magic, and Constantine hates logic. They’re a match made in hell.”

“Why’d he think you were something weird, though?” Cassie questions, willing her face to stop impersonating a tomato. “And he kept acting like we smelled!”

“I blame Hood,” Robin replies, to the man’s great affront. “Constantine said something similar a few months ago, and it was right after I came back from the Tower. He’d asked if I’d gone graverobbing?”

“I don’t smell!” Red snaps, huffy. “The idiot doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Seriously, he sees one zombie and immediately assumes we’re being overrun. What a hack.”

“I don’t know who else would smell like grave dirt, but okay,” Bart mutters under his breath, and Cassie chokes.

“I heard that, Bart,” Red growls, and the burnet pales.

Leaning over, Cassie whispers loudly, “I think you might wanna run, dude.”

Snickering, Kon chimes in, “Yeah, who knows if he’s feeling particularly bite-y right now.”

Robin hums, considering. “I don’t know – Hood strikes me as the type to go after people with brains, so you might be safe.”

“Guuuuuys,” Bart whines, burying his face in his hands and dropping his ice cream in the process. Startled, he turns to stare as it splats sadly against the sidewalk. “Aw, ice cream.”

Red takes a threatening step forward, growling theatrically as he takes an exaggerated bite of nothing.

“Maybe we should all run,” Robin revises his statement.

Sharing a look, the Titans take off, laughing as Red chases after them, arms raised and calling out for their brains.

...

Trying to stave off a yawn, Dick stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He’s an adult, he has a full-time job, and a night job as Bludhaven’s only vigilante. It’s actually really annoying that he has to come up to the Watchtower every other month to tell a bunch of heroes that he won’t give up those responsibilities just because they want him to join their club.

Plus, it’s always super weird when B’s in these meetings, staring at Dick like he’s trying to tell him not to join with just his eyes. The man knows damn well Dick doesn’t want to be a part of the Justice League, not while he’s still trying to clean up Bludhaven and really solidify Nightwing’s grip on his city, but B still treats him like he’s an impulsive child.

The only good thing that comes out of the man’s overbearing tendencies is how wrong the other League members take the Bat’s brooding. Since B’s allergic to giving out information to more people than he absolutely has to, most of the heroes Dick meets on these little trips don’t know about his connection with Bruce. Instead, they think that B absolutely hates him – it’s beyond funny, the kind of shit Dick gets away with saying to B’s face, just because he knows that it freaks out a bunch of people who assume they know what’s happening.

As he’s contemplating whether or not he should call Bruce another nickname to get out of listening to Oliver Queen’s half-hearted recruitment pitch, John Constantine slams the conference room door open, startling the small gathering inside.

“I’ve got everything we need!” The blond proclaims around the unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. “But none of you get to complain about how late I am, since nobody decided to tell the magician about a bloody zombie apocalypse.”

Dick straightens out of his slouch. This sounds much more interesting than Queen’s bullshit.

“What apocalypse?” Clark asks, frowning.

Gesturing at the box he’s got tucked into his elbow, Constantine raises his eyebrows incredulously. “The latest zombie outbreak! That apocalypse! I had to go and pull this fuckin’ thing out of my arse, since the one we used to stop the last infestation was destroyed!”

“There is no zombie outbreak,” Bruce growls, causing a good number of heroes to startle at the sound of his voice.

Constantine looks like he just bit into a lemon. “Then why the bloody hell did I just see one of the undead waltzing around in America, Bats?”

Hm, Bruce seems super sure about there not being an actual zombie invasion, but Constantine looks annoyed enough that he probably did see something.

Raising his hand to get the Magician’s attention, he grins disarmingly. “Where in America did you see the zombie?”

Constantine blinks in surprise at his interjection. “I dunno, some kid said it was a place called San Fran? I wasn’t there to go sight-seeing, and the damn thing made it so I didn’t have time to ask for a bloody map.”

The man’s nostrils flare at the end of his statement, and the blond frowns.

San Fran, that’s where Tim is. If Dick’s got his dates in order and remembers Jay’s visitation schedule right, then it’s possible that... “Oh, that’s probably nothing.”

“You smell like death, too,” Constantine grumbles. “Why do so many of you buggers smell like graves? This is starting to get ridiculous.”

“John?” Clark asks, concern in his voice. “What do you mean, Nightwing smells like death?”

“I mean he smells like an open grave!” Constantine drags his free hand over his face, taking the chance to rub at his nose. “Weird scent, that one. Can’t really mistake it for anything else. Do you know how something dead could have latched onto you? The last one I tried to talk to ran away before telling me anything.”

Oh, Dick knows. He also knows just how disgruntled Tim had been after he’d run into this man two months ago, so he decides to give the man exactly enough information to be frustrating, rather than helpful. “I don’t know if I’d call him clingy, to tell you the truth. He’s more of the hovering type, in my experience!”

“Nightwing?!” Clark’s cry of distress almost drowns out Constantine’s thoughtful hum.

“A long-term attachment, then. And you’re still not dead, despite how possessive it feels. Interesting... do you know who’s latched onto you?”

Dick beams under the weight of B’s searing glare. “Oh, sure!”

“You don’t know for a fact that it’s him,” Bruce grinds out, voice tight.

“Nonsense!” Dick waves a hand in Bruce’s direction, much to the astonishment of everyone else in the room. “Of course I do! Who else could it possibly be, aside from Little Wing?”

“Who’s Little Wing?” Constantine questions. “What personal connections do you have to him, and do you know what’s keeping him connected to this realm?”

“You know, I tried asking him about it, but he didn’t really tell me anything that would be helpful right now.” Dick sighs, shaking his head sadly. “He never wants to answer my questions. If we’re being literal, then I’d say it’s most likely his body keeping him here! You know, since he’s probably the zombie you saw earlier today.”

“That’s not possible, the impression clinging to you feels more like a shade or a reverent, not something corporeal,” Constantine disputes.

Shrugging, Dick shoots the man a helpless grin. “Eh, that sounds like him! He was never really into rolling over and playing along with people’s expectations, but that’s little brothers for you!”

Uncle Clark’s face clears with understanding as B glowers at him. Constantine frowns, rolling his cigarette from side to side as he processes Dick’s statement.

The rest of the room, though, is in quiet chaos – whispers go flying about the new hot gossip, people glancing over at him every couple of seconds, before swapping over to Constantine, then Bruce.

Settling back into his seat, Dick pulls out his phone to send a quick text to his brothers, feeling beyond satisfied. If he’s lucky, this will postpone the next “let’s drag Nightwing into the Justice League!” meeting for at least a couple of months.

In seconds, he gets an artful shot of Jason chasing after Tim and his friends, acting like the world’s most acrobatic zombie, captioned with a simple “Bart called him smelly, now we all have to pay. The blame for this lies squarely on Constantine’s tacky, trench coat covered shoulders – you know what you have to do to avenge me”.

Dick laughs.

(1 Week after Batman's "Confrontation" with Red Hood and the Titans)

It starts with a text.

No, that’s a bloody lie. It actually starts with that sodding zombie one of the bat-brood somehow knew existed but didn’t tell anyone about. 

John, in order to save himself from being the only one arsed to care about a potential world-ending threat, had put the matter of that one strangely eloquent and well-connected reanimated corpse out of his mind. He’s not about to fight off another apocalypse by himself, and since Big Boy Blue himself decided that this specific zombie gets a pass, he officially doesn’t have to care.

He wishes that was the end of it, but no. Now he has to deal with yet more issues stemming from this... problem.

Zatanna looks up at him, raising an eyebrow at the way he’s stalling. Wiggling the phone she’d just shoved under his nose, she asks. “Well, what do you think? I’m pretty sure that it’s soul magic.”

There’s a picture of the zombie, sent as a text. The re-animated man is in the middle of one of those fancy training rooms those idiots running around as heroes tend to spend most of their time in, wielding an Italian soul-fire weapon. He’s holding the sword in one hand, the blade lit up with bright orange Flames that seem to move even through the stationary medium, and his other hand is displaying his middle finger.

There’s glitching centered around his body, characteristic to most shades or apparitions, which shouldn’t happen with zombies.

The Flames engulfing the sword are very clearly a product of soul magic, which should be impossible, because zombies don’t have souls. They are re-animated bodies, nothing more. The fact that some of them can even string together a moaned sentence or two is bloody ridiculous, but one of them having the ability to wield something that requires a soul?

“I need a goddamn drink,” Constantine mutters, pinching at his nose as if it does anything to help relieve his pounding headache. “Who sent this to you?”

Crossing her arms in irritation, Zatanna frowns. “Nightwing did, as a favor for his brother. Apparently, this guy, Nightwing’s other brother, refuses to say whether this ability of his is magic or if it’s because he’s a meta, so he sent this picture to me to get my opinion.”

“He’s not a meta,” Constantine grits out, digging out a cig and lighting up. At least he’s not in that metal coffin of a space station and can actually smoke.

“So you agree, it is soul magic?” Zatanna clarifies.

“Sure looks like that,” he sighs. “Don’t know how he’s doing it, though, since he’s undead.”

Making a surprised face, Zatanna blinks. “Ah, it’s that brother! I was wondering if he’d gotten another while I wasn’t looking. Oh, he texted me again.”

Morbid curiosity causes John to lean over, peering at the phone as his fellow magician pulls up the latest text.

It’s an apology – apparently, Nightwing had sent evidence of the wrong soul-fire sword. The zombie was pranking both him and Robin by letting them take the picture he’d just sent.

“That does sound like Jay,” Zatanna hums, amused, as she texts back a question asking if the other fire-swords really exist, or if the prank was that the zombie was actually just using the Italian sword all along.

It takes a moment for her to get a response, but when it comes, it doesn’t inspire hope that this mess is anything less than a disastrous clusterfuck.

Wing-dings: Baby Bird bit me when I asked him if Little Wing actually had fire swords ☹☹☹

Wing-dings: but yes, Robin says they are very real

Wing-dings: even if they’re not very good at stabbing, apparently? Not sure what that’s about, lol

Wing-dings: thanks for looking into it, Z!

Not his problem. This is not his problem at all, and he’s going to drink until he forgets all about the idiot who can’t decide if it’s a shade, a living being, or a zombie.

(2 Weeks, 3 Days after Batman's "Confrontation" with Red Hood and the Titans)

“What the bloody hell are those?!”

Looking up from where he’s just dispatched another set of creepy, nameless demons, Jason clocks none other than John fuckin’ Constantine in all of his rumpled glory, glaring at him.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me, Magician?” He taunts. The guy’s so easy to rile up, it’s ridiculous. And hilarious.

“Well, they look like physical manifestations of the soul, which shouldn’t be possible!” Constantine yelps, ducking under a swipe from his own demon opponent, carelessly throwing a spell over his shoulder to send it flying backwards. “You’d have to have a soul to be able to use them.”

“Now that’s just cold,” Jason gasps, bringing a hand up to his heart even as he stabs another motherfucker in the chest with one of the aforementioned soul-swords. “I’m obviously pouring my heart and soul into my work every day, and this is the recognition I get? It’s not my fault you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you. Clearly, his report on your reputation was accurate.”

The blond narrows his eyes at that, shooting an unreasonably suspicious glare Jason’s way. “What do you know of me? Who gave you your information, zombie?”

Letting out a deep chuckle that always gets him in trouble with the Titans for being “ too creepy Red, seriously, stop it!”, he arrogantly tosses his head back, spreading his arms out to the side theatrically. “My father was very clear in his warnings about you, Magician. He told us never to approach you, never to entangle ourselves in your mess, least the worst happen.”

A light scuff of sound is almost completely drowned out by the sound of Constantine getting hit in the back by the demon he’d zapped a couple of seconds ago, the man stumbling over his feet and falling into a heap of trench-coated sadness. He recovers quickly, though, and jumps back into the fight with more aplomb than Jason thought he had left in his sarcastic, jaded body.

“There are more of you, then?” Constantine grunts, clearing out the last of their demonic interlopers and leaving them facing each other in a battle-torn construction site in the middle of some poor town unlucky enough to be the center for dumbass cultists bored enough to try summoning their master.

Breath hissing out through his teeth in irritation, Jason rounds on the source of the sound from earlier, letting the All-Blades shimmer out of existence now that they’re no longer needed. No sense in giving the old man any more information than is absolutely necessary, after all. “What are you doing here?!”

Constantine stalks up to Jason. “You’re not getting me off guard with that one. I’m not nearly stupid enough to think that -”

Batman steps out of the shadows, his posture tight, probably embarrassed at being called out for creeping on Jason.

Spitting out a curse that manages to hurt Jason’s ears somehow, Constantine refocuses on the newest member of tonight’s entertainment.

“Fuck me, there was actually someone there,” Constantine mutters under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair.

“This is a little far from Gotham for Bats, B,” Jason snarls, hands creeping towards his thigh holsters. “So either tell me what the hell you’re doing here, or do both of us a favor and get fucking lost.”

Bruce pauses awkwardly, but does eventually break the tense silence. “You still think of me as your father?”

Constantine chokes, and Jason can feel himself blushing. Fuck, he did said that his father warned him about Constantine.

“Batman is your father?!” Constantine rounds on Jason, gesturing at the emotionally stunted man incredulously.

“Wha- no he’s not!” Jason splutters. “He’s clearly not cut out to be anybody’s dad! He’s lame!”

“You didn’t think my Constantine Awareness brief was lame,” Bruce tries, his voice weirdly tentative even through his signature growl.

“Because you spent the whole thing making fun of him!” Jason defends, crossing his arms. “That doesn’t count.”

“I thought you were a normal human,” Constantine interjects suspiciously. “There’s no way you’ve been able to hide from my senses for this long. Is his mother the entity, then?”

“B’s not my biological dad,” Jason shakes his head, refuting that little bit of scarring mental imagery immediately. “Fuck no, can you imagine how awful that’d be? Don’t even suggest that crap.”

“Do you acknowledge that I am your adoptive father?” Bruce asks, hopeful.

Huffing, Jason points at him. “You were a shit dad before I died, B. Don’t fucking blame me for not wanting to saddle myself with that horrible experience again, now that I have a choice.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Constantine interjects, darting looks between the two of them. “The returned never do come back the same, and any attempts from the family to recreate the original connections to them only even ends in bloody tragedy.”

A cold shiver goes down Jason’s spine at the words, but he resolves himself against the feeling. This plays into his point perfectly, after all. “See, even Constantine gets it! Stop living in the past, old man. I’m not your son.”

The blond nods along even as Jason can see the muscle in Bruce’s jaw tick with emotion. This is really getting to the man, for some reason.

“You should let this go, Bats. This thing’s act might be convincing, but it’s not your son.”

“Wait, thing? It?!” Jason recoils, startled.

Constantine spares him an almost pitying look, which is downright insulting coming from him. “It just isn’t possible to try and reclaim what you had before. No matter how much it looks like him, this isn’t your son. It’s not capable of human emotions or connections.”

“Fuck you too, man! What the hell do you think I am?!” yelling, Jason curls his hands into fists. “I feel plenty of emotions, and I’ve got tons of connections! You think I can’t connect with B because I’m some kind of weird demon? Well, sucks to be you – I’ll be the best undead fucking son you’ve ever seen!”

Shit.

The guarded confusion in Constantine’s face is cut off by the sweep of a black cloak obscures Jason's vision as two strong arms wrap firmly around him.

He freezes, waiting with baited breath for the pain to follow. Obviously, B bought into Constantine’s bullshit about him being some kind of pretender demon, and he’s going to have to actually fight with Bruce. For real, this time, not just the little slap-fest they got into with Robin and the Titans.

“Jaylad,” Bruce breathes out haltingly into Jason’s ear, dropping his forehead onto Jason’s shoulder as his arms close around him. “Jay, I’m so sorry.”

“...What?” Jason croaks, throat suddenly dry.

“I’m so sorry I let you die, I’m sorry I let him get away with it. I pushed you away,” B mumbles, and Jason shakes his head.

“That’s not – why are you just accepting that I’m me? You didn’t believe Robin, or Nightwing, or even Auntie D or Uncle C. Why now?”

Bruce’s embrace tightens at his words, but Jason actually gets a response. “I needed time to process. To run through all of the evidence. I wanted to see you in person to talk before making my final judgement.”

Hesitantly, Jason brings his hands up, hovering over Bruce’s back. “And... you believe it? You really think I’m back?”

Bruce lets out a shaky chuckle, the sound bringing tears to the corner of Jason’s eyes unbidden. “Jaylad, you said that you would be my son just to spite Constantine. You’ve never been one to bend to anyone’s expectations, and I’m sorry that I forgot that about you.”

Sniffing, Jason lets himself grip onto the strong figure he’s missed for far longer than he’s willing to admit. “’M not gonna be your little Jaylad again, B. I can’t be that person, anymore.”

Bruce doesn’t let him go, doesn’t push him away. Instead, he squeezes Jason closer. “We’ll figure this out together, chum. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Blinking furiously to try and clear his eyes from all of the fucking water coming from nowhere, Jason buries his face into Bruce’s shoulder. Through a mouthful of cape, he mutters, “Maybe T was right, when she said that you wouldn’t be a completely terrible dad.”

Bruce freezes.

“What?”

Oops.

(Constantine hovers in the background of this very touching moment, debating whether or not he should intervene. Eventually, he decides that he doesn’t want the Bat to tear his face off for trying to protect him from something he’s been convinced is actually his son returned from the dead.

Going back to the House of Mystery, he spares a thought to try and figure out just what exactly that kid is – while he looks like a normal human, with a heartbeat and breathing and everything, he feels like a zombie. Confusingly, there’s definitely a soul in there somewhere – the blades he wielded wouldn’t be anywhere near that responsive to him if it had been stolen, so it’s probably even his own, somehow. There’s also the matter of those concerning spiritual impressions he leaves on the people around him, that smell more ghostly than anything else. 

Urgh, none of this is his problem, not until the little bugger decides to take out the Bat and start trying for world domination or the like. He can worry about it then – for now, he needs a smoke.)